Prickly Romance: Single Dad AMBW (Billionaire Dads)

SAZUKI

“I can’t believe you’re just going to throw away that many roses…”

As she speaks, Dejonae slips her fingers into mine. The slide of her hand against my palm fills me with a heat that rivals the sun.

I never want to let go of this hand.

“How much did you pay for those?” she insists.

I open my mouth.

She turns her face away. “Stop. Don’t tell me. It’ll make my heart hurt.”

I chuckle.

She chews on her bottom lip worriedly.

My eyes linger there.

That mouth—brown and full and ripe for the looting.

On the stage, I could not stop myself from tasting her. She was sweeter than I expected. Softer still. I do not know how many minutes passed while I kissed her. Time, as a concept, seemed distant. Like we had transformed to a plane outside of it.

It was only one of my men walking in on us that pried my mouth away from hers. A necessary interruption. I was enjoying myself so much that I could have easily devoured her for hours.

A sudden silence in the car snaps me back to focus. I notice Dejonae smirking at me.

“Are you going to keep doing that? Zoning out on my lips when I talk to you?”

“Your mouth is distracting,” I admit.

She smiles prettily. I find her lack of pretention appealing. Dejonae knows she is a beautiful woman and accepts all of my compliments with a mixture of grace and confidence.

I rub my thumb over her mouth. Her lips are slightly swollen, fuller from the way I’d bitten them.

“Does it hurt?”

“Nope. But you did rub all my gloss off.” She grazes my lips with her thumb. “It’s a good thing I don’t normally wear lipstick or your lips would be brown by now.”

“I do not have a problem with that.”

“I do.” She narrows her eyes. “I don’t want to leave any clues for people at work to find out about us.”

Heat spreads through my veins. “Are you saying you are open to being affectionate at work?” An image of Dejonae on my desk, her nails raking down my back as I quiet her with a kiss explodes in my mind.

“No, that’s not happening either.”

My eyebrows cinch together.

“People at the foundation can’t find out about us.”

“We are not doing anything wrong.”

“You’re my boss.”

“Technically, you are interning.”

Her expression turns scolding. “Same thing.”

“That is not a good reason.”

“You’re older than me.”

“We’re both adults.”

“We can’t expect people to understand. They’re going to think that you’re… my sugar daddy.”

“Me? A…” It is so ridiculous I cannot even bear to repeat it. “You and I both know this is not the case, so why should we care whether others understand or not? As long as we know the truth, this is all that matters.”

“I’m not ready for the scrutiny yet. Telling people about us would make things awkward for me. And Sheila… ugh. Sheila would give me the stink eye of death.” She shakes her head. “We don’t need my co-workers in our business.” I think of Taylor and add, “My classmates either. We can’t let them find out.”

“I do not have a problem with keeping our relationship quiet if it is what you truly wish. But I do have a problem if we are keeping it quiet in order to please others. There is no need for us to inconvenience ourselves to make them more comfortable.”

She tilts her head. Her lips pucker. “This feels like a fight.”

I think about it. “Is it?”

“It’s a disagreement. So, technically, yes.”

“Then let us fight.”

“Wrong answer. From now on, you’re supposed to let me win all the arguments.”

“I do not think I can do this.” I rub my chin and in a dry voice, I tease her, “Letting you win might be too much for me to handle.”

“Sazuki.”

“Ryotaro,” I correct her.

“I told you I’m not saying that.”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Because?”

“It’s too intimate.”

I bear down on her, drawn to her body with a strength I cannot resist.

My lips cover hers.

She wraps an arm around the back of my neck. Her lips grasp mine passionately, so impatient, so willing, so filled with dark need.

I could plunder her right here in the backseat.

She would not push my hand away if I slid it beneath her skirt.

But I have decided to restrain myself.

I want her to know that I am not with her for her body or her youth. Dejonae seems to be influenced by other people’s opinions, so I am determined to ease all her doubts. She is not a way to ‘experiment’ as Akira once insinuated.

She means more to me. There is a rightness to being with her. A sense of a missing piece slipping into place.

Her thick eyelashes remain closed even when I pull back. I swipe my tongue across my top lip, testing whether her mouth is, indeed, pure sugar.

“Oh Lord, if this is a dream, do not wake me up,” she mumbles.

I smile.

Dejonae Williams is anmitsu.

Savory, satisfying, and addictive.

My hands cup her cheeks.

I have not allowed myself to want someone in so long.

Yet, I long for her.

Everything about her.

Everything that she is willing to give.

And even that which she would rather keep hidden.

She is my light in a dark, chaotic world.

“If it bothers you so much, I can have the rose petals boxed up and delivered to your apartment.”

She scrunches her nose. “In a few days, those will be dead roses and then bugs will crawl in and eat them.”

“Hm.” I muse.

The glinting silver lights of the city splashes across her face. She looks up at me suspiciously. “What?”

“You are un-romantic.”

She swats my arm.

I smirk down at her.

“I am very romantic, okay? But I’m also rational. You spent a fortune so that I could walk on roses. Which is nice. I’m not saying it wasn’t. But it was excessive.”

I bring her knuckles to my lips and kiss it. “If you wish, I will refrain from further ‘excessive’ displays.”

“Aw, you’re letting me win?”

“If…” I add sternly.

She sighs and eases back. “I knew there was a catch.”

“If you agree to tell others that you are taken.”

“Sazuki.”

“Ryotaro.”

She gives me a dark look.

“I am not asking you to tell them that we are dating,” I gesture between us, “only that you are involved with someone.”

The angry stare softens a smidge.

“I do not trust that men will leave you alone if you pretend to be single.” My fingers clench. “Especially your ex.”

She laughs and, if I was not so irritated by the thought of her previous lover, I would kiss her again. Her laughter is big and magnetic. There’s warmth in it, the kind that invites a man to get comfortable.

“You didn’t seem like the jealous type,” she says with a grin.

“This is not jealousy. This is common sense. When a man sees a beautiful woman, he will pursue her. Even saying you have a boyfriend may not be enough of a deterrent. If anyone continues to bother you,” my voice darkens, “I would like to be informed.”

“So you can go and beat them up?” She sounds amused.

“It depends.”

When her eyes meet mine, my heart quivers. I have stumbled into very dangerous territory. Miss Williams has the power to turn me in any direction she wishes and I would follow her willingly.

“If Jordan ever gets on my nerves again, I’ll tell him that I have a boyfriend,” she promises.

“The boys at your college as well.”

She chuckles and settles back into my arms.

“Do we have an agreement?” I mumble.

“I’ll think about it.” She smiles when I glare at her. Her hand caresses my chest, soothing me as if I am a wild animal. “I’m not ashamed of you, if that’s what you’re afraid of by the way. I’m just being cautious. People have already seen you at my college. They’d put two and two together.”

“Me showing up at your college and us dating is a big leap.”

“You showed up and walked me all the way to class. It’s not that big of a leap.”

I squint at the passing city. “Touché.”

“I wish I could say ‘screw them’ and focus on my own life, but I’m not that brave. You’re the owner of the foundation and I’m lower than an actual employee. People like us don’t get together.” She sighs. “I want the foundation to do well, especially after this scandal with the reporter. If I cause another stir, it’s not going to help us get where we need to go.”

I rub her shoulder. “I see the wisdom in that.”

For a moment, the car falls silent.

Dejonae clears her throat. “Can we… talk about your ex?”

Surprised, I look down at her.

Her voice is carefully poised. “Niko told me that she’s a singer currently working on a cruise, but that’s all I know.”

“You can ask me anything.”

“Are you serious?” She sits up.

“I am an open book.”

“Your last name is Sazuki. You are the very definition of a closed book.”

“My family chooses to live a quiet life, away from the cameras and the pressures of being a celebrity. This is a lifestyle choice, not a personality. We are private, not secretive.”

“Can I really ask you anything?”

“There is nothing in my past that I regret nor is there anything in my past marriage that would hold me back from giving you what you deserve. You do not have to be afraid of asking.”

She gives me her full attention. “How long were you married for?”

“Three years.”

“Why did you get a divorce?”

“On paper? Irreconcilable differences.”

“And in reality?”

“Ashanti came to Japan along with a singing troupe. Her goal was always to travel the world and perform. After we met and got pregnant, I asked her to marry me. She said yes, but it was not a yes to the life she wanted. Soon, our differences became spikes that we inflicted on each other.” I pause and reflect on that time. “This was my fault. We did not know much about each other when we married.”

“Were you really that different?”

“Our values, our way of life, it was all different. She thrived in going to new places and meeting new people. I do not like going out and I keep to myself. Meeting others is tiring. I could not be the kind of man she needed.”

“And your family? How did they react to her?”

“Not… well.”

“Did they treat her badly?”

“They did not acknowledge her at all.”

“Because she was black?” Her entire body is tense.

I run my hand down her arm and she relaxes a bit. “This may have played a part in it, but any foreigner would have been met with dismissive treatment. My family views all foreigners in a negative light. Especially Western women.”

“Why?”

I arch a brow. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Of course I want to know. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked,” she says sassily.

My lips twitch. “The western world is known for its instability. ‘Hook up’ culture, weak families, multiple divorces, and single-parent homes. Family is very important to us. It affects everything, even our business.”

“If family was so important, then they should have welcomed Niko’s mother with open arms. She was your wife and the mother of your child. She deserved that respect at least.”

Such passion.

I stare at her, soak her in, and wonder if I can survive loving a woman like her.

“What?”

“We are discussing my ex-wife.”

“So?”

“So, had I not divorced Ashanti, we would not have met.”

She purses her lips. “It’s the principle that bothers me. People should be treated fairly and with respect.”

I kiss her forehead tenderly. “You are right. My family chose to shut her out because of their ignorance. The elders made assumptions about Ashanti before she had ever been introduced to them. Because of the way we had gotten pregnant before marriage, they assumed she was overtly sexual and unreliable. Because she wanted to sing, they thought she was after the family’s fortune and glory.”

“So you just… let her face all that pushback on her own?” Dejonae’s voice carries a hint of accusation.

“I distanced myself from my family and warned them that I would not see them if they continued to treat Ashanti this way.”

“What happened?”

“They cut me out.”

She gasps. “They kicked you out just because of that?”

“Without their support, I had to scramble to make my own money. That is when I forced myself to perform on stage.”

Her eyes glint. “When you said you made that album for a friend…”

“I was desperate to make my marriage work, to prove my family wrong, to make a name for myself so that I could provide for them and keep my wife and child together. But seeing me go on tour while she was forced to stay at home alone was a prison for Ashanti. She did not know the language and had made few friends in Japan. It was not an ideal situation.”

“You were doing what was best for them,” Dejonae defends me.

I want to kiss her again, but I keep my hands to myself . “She was broken and I did not see. It was not her fault.”

“But—”

“I did not give Ashanti what she needed. Reassurance, love, understanding. I believed that I was meeting her needs when, in reality, I was only pushing her away. When she asked for a divorce, the distance between us had already been growing for a while. I did not fight for her to stay.”

“You loved her.” It is a statement, not a question.

“I did. She gave Niko to me. I will never regret the way we met or the way we ended because it gave me my child.”

“Do you still have feelings for her?”

I wrap my arms around Dejonae. “No.”

“How do you know?”

“Because when I end something, it is truly over. I do not allow room for regrets.”

Dejonae burrows in closer. “Did you ever date a black woman before her?”

“No. And I never seriously considered marriage to anyone before I met her either.” I rub my chin. “Suddenly, she was pregnant and we became a couple. What mattered was the family we were going to create, not the color of her skin.”

“Were you always so open-minded or…?”

“Perhaps because of my mother. She was the only one who would visit our home when the family turned their backs. I believe Ashanti managed to stay so long in Japan because of my mother’s welcome.”

As I confess it all to Dejonae, my heart feels strange. Heavy. What happened with Ashanti tore the both of us, but it left more damage on her. Now that I am starting again, I feel a sense of caution. I never want to inflict the same wounds on Dejonae.

I play with one of her curls. “My first marriage taught me that being a father and being a man are not the same as being a husband. I had to hurt someone to learn that lesson, but I am not the type to make the same mistake twice. Thankfully, Ashanti found someone who could be the man I couldn’t be for her and they are happily traveling the world together.”

“I’m glad for her. After everything she’s been through, she deserves that.”

I press a kiss to her temple and murmur, “And what do I deserve?”

“A beautiful college student.” She laughs.

“That is more than I deserve.” I encircle her waist and drive her as close to me as the seatbelt will allow. Tucking my lips to the side of her throat, I whisper, “Everything that happened in my life led me to you.”

“You really are more romantic than you look.”

I smile against her dark skin. “Only in private.”

She pouts. “So no PDA for us? Darn it.”

I laugh softly. “Is it my turn to ask about your past relationships?”

“That’s on a need-to-know basis.”

“Very unfair.”

“Life isn’t fair.

I kiss her ear and chuckle.

It does not matter who Dejonae was with before me. From now on, she will be by my side. Nothing and no one can change that.

The car slows.

Our driver glances back at us with blank eyes. “We are here.”

I nod my thanks.

“I’ll see you at work Monday,” Dejonae says, reaching for the door.

“Monday?” The distaste in my voice is palpable. “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“I have to study. Thanks to someone, my weekdays are always hectic and I’m too exhausted to crack open a textbook when I go home.”

“I can help you study.”

“Yeah, slow down, buddy.” She places a hand on my chest to stop me from coming closer. “I’m smart enough to know how that ends.”

“How?” I whisper.

She kisses me softly. “Like that.”

“Mm. That is not so bad.”

“For you, maybe. But for my grades…”

“Is it Howel? I can talk to him.”

She rolls her eyes. “I want to graduate because of my own efforts. Not because my boyfriend threw his money and fame around.”

My disappointment melts.

I glance down and train my lips not to smile.

Boyfriend.

I’m far too old to get excited at such a word and yet, with Dejonae, I feel like a teenager with his first crush.

“Fine. You can have Saturday,” I allow. “Sunday is mine.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrows hike. “You’re not asking?”

“I will kidnap you away if I have to.” I give her a look of challenge.

“I believe you.” She laughs.

“Where would you like to go on our first date?”

“How about we stay home on Sunday?”

I frown. “I may not like to go out, but I will take you wherever you want to go.”

“I’m not saying that because of your preferences. I’d really like to hang out with you and Niko. A day indoors, sharing a meal and spending time with you both sounds like the perfect day to me.”

I am not a creature of impulse. Yet I cannot help unbuckling my seatbelt, lunging across the car and kissing her furiously.

I am greedy for her, obsessed with every flutter of her lips.

I do not even recognize myself anymore.

The porch light on her parents’ house comes on.

Dejonae notices and pulls back from me. “I should go inside before they send a search party.”

“Tell your parents I said goodnight.”

She leaves the car laughing loudly. “I am not doing that.”

I smile and watch her walk all the way inside before driving off.

As Dejonae requested, I leave her alone on Saturday, only exchanging a few texts back and forth.

On Sunday morning, I sit Niko down in the living room and inform her that we will be having a visitor.

“Who is it?” she signs sleepily.

“Dejonae.”

Her eyes brighten. “Really?”

“There is something else I have to tell you.” I hesitate. “Dejonae and I are dating now.”

Eyes going wide, Niko launches over and hugs me. She signs, “What took you so long, daddy?”

I chuckle and run my hand down her hair.

Niko moves her hands excitedly. “When will she be here?”

I check my watch. “In about an hour.”

Niko whirls around and hurries to her bedroom to get ready. While she is gone, I call Ashanti. I promised her that I would inform her if my relationship with Dejonae changed. Since that is now the case, I wish to honor my word.

However, her phone goes to voicemail. I send her a text.

Ashanti, I need to speak with you. Call me when you have the time.

Footsteps patter down the hallway. Niko runs into view, her arms burdened with natural hair oils, creams and gels. Smiling at her obvious excitement, I brush her hair, secure it in a ponytail and send her out to watch TV. After I finish getting dressed, I start the meal and then join her in the sofa.

Neither of us are paying the television any mind. We continuously look at the door like twin addicts.

At last, Dejonae knocks on the door, right on time. Niko glances up when she feels the shift in my energy. Together, we scramble to the door. My daughter wears her eagerness on her sleeve while I keep my expression plain.

Dejonae smiles at Niko first and my daughter makes a sound of glee. In a blink, she attacks Dejonae with a tight hug. The two embrace and then Dejonae glances up at me.

I smile in welcome.

She smiles back and the feeling of rightness settles over me again.

Niko signs, “We got you your own slippers.” She hands over a pair of music-themed slides that came as a three-pair set. Niko has been trying and failing to get me to wear the ghastly things around the house. “Dad and I have one too.”

“I got you something too,” Dejonae says. She hands over a tin of cookies. “I hope you like them.”

Niko squeezes the tin to herself, her eyes alight with pleasure.

“Chocolate chip cookies are her favorite,” I explain.

“Lucky guess.” Dejonae’s eyes linger on me.

Niko grabs her hand and drags her off. Probably to show Dejonae her collection of mangas. Dejonae looks over her shoulder with a wry smile and a shrug. I watch her until they both disappear into Niko’s room.

I do not mind my daughter stealing my girlfriend away, as long as I get to steal her back later tonight.

Heading to the kitchen, I check on the roast. It is almost ready. I stir the soup on the stove and then set it to simmer.

Giggles erupt from Niko’s room.

Curious, I tiptoe up the stairs and peek in.

Dejonae has Niko sitting between her legs. Niko is flipping through the pages of a comic book, while Dejonae is spraying her hair with water and smoothing down the edges.

I lean against the door, enjoying the sight of them together.

Niko realizes I am there first. She always seems to sense when I am around.

Dejonae glances up.

Her eyebrows hike and she gestures to Niko’s hair. “Niko asked me to put in a new style.”

“It is beautiful,” I sign. Dejonae created little twists at the front, secured them with neon pink rubber bands and then crisscrossed them in an intricate design. The back of Niko’s hair is divided into two plaits that fall down her shoulders.

“The food smells great.” Dejonae’s lips arch. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I only know a few dishes. Do you cook?”

“Sometimes. I only know a few dishes too.”

“Then together, we can double our knowledge.”

Her eyes brighten and she laughs. “True.”

I did not realize how much I missed her until I hear that musical laughter. It is sweeter to me than any note of the piano.

My eyes linger on her body as Dejonae rises to her full height and brushes off the curls that had shed from doing Niko’s hair. She is wearing a long green dress. The fabric clings to her curves. The slit up the side offers a brief flash of her slender legs.

My self-restraint falters.

I do not think I will be able to keep my hands off her tonight.

“Should we take a picture?” Dejonae asks.

Niko nods.

My girls smush their cheeks together. Dejonae lifts her hand and takes the shot.

Niko gestures to me. I draw closer to the two of them. Slipping one arm around Niko’s waist and another around Dejonae’s, I pull them close.

“You’re too tall,” Dejonae says. “You take the shot.” She hands the phone to me.

Niko moves closer to Dejonae so I can fit us all in the screen.

I capture the moment.

“Silly faces now!” Dejonae sticks out her tongue.

Niko bares her teeth.

I narrow my eyes.

Dejonae takes the phone and swipes through the photos. When she gets to my silly shot, she glances up in censure. “Sazuki, what kind of silly face is that?”

“It’s subtle.”

Her lips part. “Are you kidding? You look like you were posing for a fashion campaign. You even smized. The point was to look silly.”

“What is ‘smize’?” Niko gestures.

“It’s from America’s Next Top Model. Tyra Banks.” Dejonae makes a disgruntled sound when she sees our confusion. “You’ve never seen the show?”

“We do not watch much Western television,” I fill in.

“Unacceptable. We’re going to binge every season,” she promises Niko.

My daughter smiles as if Dejonae just offered her the world.

I escort them downstairs for the meal. It is more lively than any meal we have ever had around the table. There is laughter, conversation and teasing. The way Dejonae communicates with Niko is confident. No hint of awkwardness. No hesitation.

In the past, when we ate meals with others, the conversation was often stilted. Even when all parties understood ASL, the delicate balance of eating, signing, and talking could not be achieved.

From the way Dejonae carries herself, I can immediately tell that her family dinners are full of life. Her excitement to get to know both me and Niko better—not only the deep parts of us, but the tiny ticks and quirks that make us unique—is genuine. She enjoys the conversation and does not seem tired by having to sign along with her words.

Her sensitivity and kindness move me almost as much as her beauty.

After the meal, we retreat to the living room. I want to sit close to Dejonae, but my daughter steals her away again to do puzzles. I watch from a distance, sipping on tea.

Dejonae glances at me with a heated look. “If all you’re going to do is stare, you might as well come and help.”

“You seem to have it well in hand,” I say.

“Is he always like that?” she signs to Niko.

“Boring?” Niko gestures. “Yes.”

Dejonae looks back at me and shakes her head, eyes narrowed.

I lean forward and slide one of her curls behind her ear. In a dark whisper, I defend myself, “I become a lot more exciting after bedtime.”

She bites her lower lip.

My body instantly hardens in response, riveted by the sight of her full bottom lip surrendering to her teeth.

I smile wolfishly and steal a kiss when Niko is not watching.

Dejonae’s eyes pop open and she pushes me away, her gaze darting pointedly to my daughter.

I tilt my head in response.

One taste of her is not enough. I need more.

But Niko looks at us and Dejonae withdraws from me.

“What a complicated puzzle,” Dejonae says, her voice high-pitched and shaking. “I think I might have to stay all night to put this together.”

I pull my lips in to choke back my laughter.

After a few minutes, I get up to prepare snacks for the hardworking ladies. Dejonae’s competitive spirit has been awakened and she does not even notice when I leave.

But Niko’s footsteps follow me into the kitchen.

“Do you need something?” I sign.

My daughter gives me a secret smile.

I know she is here to speak to me about Dejonae. Though I have spoken to Niko about our relationship, the fact that Dejonae is spending the day with us is evidence that she is someone important to me. It is our first time having a guest over.

“Do you want me to go to sleep early?” Niko signs.

“And spoil the fun Dejonae is having with that puzzle?” I touch the top of her head, careful not to spoil the fancy hairstyle.

Niko smiles to herself. And then the smile dims. “Have you told mom?”

“Not yet.” I sign. “Later.”

“I’m worried.”

“There is nothing to worry about.” I kneel in front of my daughter and hold her shoulders. “Even if we are not together, your mother and I have one thing in common.” I touch her nose. “How much we love you.”

She signs, “Fine. And try not to be so boring, dad. Next time, take Deej out on a proper date.”

“Troublemaker.” I tap her nose.

She blinks candidly and signs, “I’m going to get ready for bed.” Her expression turns serious. “Don’t mess this up.”

My smile breaks free. I give my daughter a big hug.

“I love you so much,” I say into her ear.

Although she can’t hear me, Niko squeezes me back as if she understands.

We return to the living room, hand-in-hand. Dejonae is staring at the puzzle, her tongue sticking out slightly and her back bent over the puzzle box. When she glances up, it’s with surprise.

“What’s going on?” Dejonae asks, glancing between both our faces.

“Niko is going to bed now.”

“Already?” She checks her watch. Then her eyebrows arch. “I didn’t realize it was that late.” Dejonae stands gracefully to her feet. Her skirt sways around her ankles and a little more of her dark leg flashes at me. “I’ll help you take out those rubber bands.”

Niko places a protective hand over her head.

Dejonae steps closer to my daughter. “Okay, you can keep it in. But you’re going to have to secure your bonnet with bobby pins. If those twists get frizzy, it’s not going to look as good.” Her expression shifts and she looks up at me. “She does have a bonnet, right?”

“Of course. I am not an uncultured man.”

Dejonae laughs softly. She takes my daughter’s hand and looks up at me. “I’ll help put Niko to bed and then join you. Is that okay?”

I dip my chin.

Dejonae walks away with my daughter. I start to follow them when my phone rings.

It’s Akira.

My voice is a pleased rumble. “If you are calling to ask if I have seen the magazine article. I have.”

The pre-print edition was forwarded to me yesterday. There was a small paragraph of clarification about the social media post, but the rest of the article was glowing praise for The Sazuki Foundation. Miss Beverly is, indeed, a good writer. I understand now why she has so many followers online.

“I am not calling about that,” Akira says. “It is about your mother.”

My smile freezes.

“She is coming tomorrow.”

I inhale sharply but, when I speak, I keep my voice casual. “When will she be arriving at the airport? I will arrange to pick her up.”

Rather than be dismayed, I will take the opportunity to bring Dejonae into our family. The meeting of the parents might as well happen now. I have no doubt in my mind that Dejonae is a part of my future. The sooner I can meet her parents and she can meet mine, the better.

“She is not arriving alone, Ryotaro.”

“Is father coming to America with her?” I cannot hide my surprise. My father hates planes, traveling, and Western ideals with a passion.”

“No. She will not be accompanied by uncle.” Akira pauses. “She will be coming with your ex-wife.”