Prickly Romance: Single Dad AMBW (Billionaire Dads)

SAZUKI

“Slow down, Niko, or you might choke. Here, drink this.”

I slide a glass of freshly squeezed juice over to her. Niko grabs the mug and takes a sip. Shyly, she glances at me and I nod my assurance.

Her shoulders hike to her ears and she looks around self-consciously. Tiny fingers sink below the table where she is, undoubtedly, gripping the edge of her skirt.

The food called ‘fry jack’ had distracted her so that she forgot to be nervous. Now, I see the uncertainty steal into her eyes again and it makes my heart pinch. Perhaps it had not been wise to let her accompany me.

“Do you like it?” A small woman with two grey plaits hanging down her shoulders asks. She’s wearing a loose cotton blouse with an embroidered hem and a colorful red skirt.

Niko bobs her head.

“Thank you,” I answer for my daughter. “It is very good.”

“Your daughter’s beautiful,” another woman says to me. She’s tall with long black hair. She and the elder have similar facial features and the same reddish-brown complexions. “You must be very proud.”

“I am,” I say simply.

Cheers erupt in the living room. I observe the group of three children who are scattered on the ground playing a card game. Niko notices them too. Longing enters my daughters eyes, but she chews on her bottom lip and stays seated.

“Would you like to join them?” I sign.

She shakes her head vehemently.

“Sorry about that.” Holland Alistair stalks into the kitchen. He takes the seat beside me. “There was a small emergency at Belle’s Beauty, so I had to take the call.”

“Anything I can help with?” I ask.

He waves away my offer. “Ezekiel has it handled. Promoting him to manager was one of the best decisions I ever made.” His eyes skate across the table and land on a woman with dark skin and curly hair. “Apart from marrying my wife.”

Alistair’s wife laughs brightly.

“Stop undressing my best friend with your eyes, you creep. There are children around,” the woman with long hair scolds.

One of the children leaves the living room and trods past the dinner table. He gives Niko a curious look, which she quickly pretends not to notice. The boy adjusts his circular glasses and carries on.

On the way back from the kitchen, he grips a glass of water and stops at the table. “Mom, I think someone’s outside.”

“I wonder if Vanya’s finally arrived,” his mother answers.

“I haven’t seen her and Baby Ollie in ages,” the elder moans.

“Who is it, Sunny?” Alistair’s wife asks.

Sunny checks a monitor in the kitchen. “She looks familiar. Wait… isn’t that? I think it’s Vanya’s friend.”

My ears perk up.

“Vanya’s friend? The one who performed at the gala?” Alistair’s eyes widen. He shoots me a panicked look.

I don’t know what he is imagining and I don’t care either.

Tapping Niko on the shoulder, I sign, “Dejonae is here.”

The dark cloud that had been hovering over my daughter disappears. A brilliant smile charges across her face and it’s almost blinding.

Niko hops out of her seat and makes a mad dash for the door.

Every head swings to her.

Even the children in the living room stop their game to stare.

My daughter does not notice. She throws the screen door open and wraps her arms around a very shocked Dejonae.

I watch for any hint of disdain to cross the college student’s face. After all, Dejonae must be aware of my agreement with the school by now. If there is so much as a whiff of anger or hatred in her response to Niko—or any sense that she may take out her frustrations on my daughter—I will whisk Niko away immediately.

But Dejonae shows no signs of annoyance.

Her face lights up and she grabs my daughter back, holding her as if she plans to swallow Niko into her body.

I stare at them, my gut churning.

Niko trusts this woman.

How? When? Why?

Because of one encounter in an alley?

The connection between Dejonae and my daughter seems to be getting stronger at every meeting. Niko so rarely opens up to people. Now that she has, I cannot let her joy end in disappointment.

As if she can sense my fierce inspection, Dejonae glances up.

There is a stark difference between her reaction to Niko and her reaction to me. With me, anger gathers like storm clouds, spitting thunder from her expressive brown eyes.

Niko tugs on Dejonae’s hand, breaking our stare.

My daughter points to the table where the fry jacks are gathered in baskets. “Have you tried that?”

“Not yet.” Dejonae motions to her mouth three times. “But I’ll probably eat a lot.”

Niko giggles.

“Hi, everyone.” Dejonae keeps her eyes trained away from me as she nears the table. “I’m Dejonae. Vanya’s friend. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Welcome. Welcome. The more the merrier.” The elder waddles around the table with a swish of her thick, embroidered skirt. “Vanya told us you were coming.”

“Speaking of,” Sunny checks her phone, “where is Vanya?”

“She’s not with me,” Dejonae says.

“She and Hadyn were supposed to have arrived already.” Sunny chews her bottom lip.

Alistair’s wife looks up worriedly. “Dawn and Max said they were running late. Maybe Vanya sent a message saying the same?”

While Sunny and Kenya check their phones, Dejonae’s eyes flick to me. What are you doing here?

I jut my chin at her. Can’t I be here?

She scowls.

“I’ll give her a call,” Sunny says.

“And I’ll give our new guest the grand introduction.” Alistair’s wife glides around the table. “Hi, I’m Kenya. We didn’t get to meet formally that night. Everything was so chaotic. But I wanted to thank you for helping us out of a tight spot.”

“You’re welcome.” Dejonae casts me a dark look. “And I don’t blame you for how chaotic things became. It wasn’t your fault.”

I arch an eyebrow.

She stares daggers at me.

If she is expecting remorse, she will not get any. I can still see that moment at the gala like it happened yesterday. Music pouring into the hallway. The doors opening. A young woman, head bowed on the stage, her heart bleeding all over my piano as she played a raw, emotional version of Brahms.

She was a stranger touching my keys.

Touching my art.

Touching me.

Did anyone expect me to smile and applaud her in that moment? Would anyone welcome such a private and personal invasion?

“Okay then.” Kenya flashes an awkward smile. “Let me introduce the rest of the gang.” She points to her husband who is seated around the table smearing jam on a fry jack. “That’s my husband, Alistair. You met him.”

“I did. Hi.” Dejonae waves with her free hand.

Niko, cutely, waves along.

“The cooking genius responsible for all of these tasty Belizean dishes,” Kenya juts a finger at the crowded table, “is Mama Moira. She has a habit of adopting grown adults and turning them Mayan at heart no matter what race or culture they are, so don’t be shocked if she sews you a cute embroidered outfit and you end up loving it more than your other clothes.”

“Noted,” Dejonae says with an easy laugh.

Niko watches Dejonae laughing and smiles too. I expect Dejonae to ignore my daughter, as so many tend to do. But she drops to one knee and signs out a summary of everything Kenya said.

Kenya waits patiently until she’s finished.

When Dejonae rises again, Alistair’s wife looks at her with fresh eyes. “You know sign language?”

“My sister is deaf,” Dejonae signs.

“Oh.” There’s a moment of pause as everyone soaks in that information.

I have learned that people live in their own worlds, locked into their own bubbles, and until that bubble is popped, they go about believing everyone is exactly like them.

“You should bring your sister the next time she’s in town.” The elder breaks the silence first.

“It’ll be a while before my sister comes home. She’s busy with work.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a model.”

Happy wrinkles gather around Mama Moira’s eyes. “How lovely. Another model in the family. Well, whenever she drops in, we’d love to have her.”

“Come on. Let me introduce you to the children before another war breaks out.” Alistair’s wife gestures with dark fingers. “Competitions get loud and rowdy around here. I’d suggest you prepare yourself before they drag you into a game.”

“I’m pretty competitive myself,” Dejonae says.

Niko skips happily beside her.

I hear chair legs scrape the ground and feel Alistair sitting closer to me. When I turn, I find his eyes boring into mine.

“Is there still a problem between you and Dejonae?” he asks.

I reach for a fry jack to keep from having to answer immediately. The pastry is golden and smooth like the top of milk bread, but the inside is puffy.

“If I’d known she was coming to the house, I wouldn’t have invited you for dinner,” Alistair adds.

“To protect me or to protect her?”

He mulls it over. “That depends on who would do the most damage to the other.”

“A wise response.”

“I’m always on top of my game when I’m facing off with you, Sazuki.” He tilts his fry jack toward me.

My eyes dart to Dejonae. She is sitting among the children. Niko is beside her, so close that her thigh is on top of Dejonae’s.

Dejonae is signing out an introduction for my daughter.

“Why are you doing that with your hands?” A little girl with dark hair, pale skin and big brown eyes looks on in awe.

“Belle, don’t be rude,” an older boy with thick hair and sullen eyes scolds.

Belle frowns. “Why?”

“It’s okay,” Dejonae says. “It’s not rude to ask a question.”

“Sazuki, would you like to discuss business on the balcony?” Alistair offers.

“Just a moment.” My daughter can get overwhelmed around strangers. I want to be close enough to jump in if there are any issues.

Dejonae nudges my daughter when Niko tries to retreat from the conversation. Smiling kindly, she tells Niko, “Go ahead. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m deaf,” Niko gestures with a hesitant frown.

A beat of silence passes as the children struggle to understand.

The boy with the glasses speaks first.

“Cool!”

Cool? I freeze in shock.

Niko smiles and relaxes into Dejonae’s chest. I have never seen my daughter so confident and at ease in front of strangers before.

“Niko has a good relationship with Dejonae,” Alistair observes.

I keep my eyes on them, still alert. “Miss Williams knows sign language and Niko finds that reassuring.”

“Speaking of sign language, Kenya’s already talking about signing us up for classes.” His expression remains stone-cold, but his eyes soften. “I’ll sign Belle up for it too. It would be good for her to know more than one language.”

“That is very kind of you.”

He arches an eyebrow. “I’m glad you’re here, Sazuki, but I’m guessing you didn’t accept my invitation just so we could talk about sign language.”

“No.” I turn fully to Alistair. “I want your coding expertise. More precisely, your patterning algorithm.”

He rubs his chin. “You’re entering the coding space?”

“No. It’s—”

Dejonae’s laughter rings out, temporarily distracting me.

I glance into the living room again.

The children are on the floor playing cards. Niko is still tucked against Dejonae’s side.

“What does deaf mean?” Belle asks, setting down a yellow card into a pile.

“It means she can’t hear,” the boy with the glasses says smartly.

“Then how can she play with us?”

Dejonae grins. “She can play just like you can.” Turning to my daughter, she signs, “Play this card, Niko.”

Niko sets down her card.

Dejonae screams. “UNO!”

Niko signs, “One.”

My lips twitch. When I return my attention to Alistair, he’s looking at me.

“Were you saying something?” I ask. “My apologies. Can you repeat it?”

“No need to apologize. I’m hyper-aware of where Belle is at all times too.” He pauses. “I’m also hyper-aware of Kenya.”

A self-conscious wave crashes into me.

I tug my collar away from my neck and pretend not to have heard. “My team and I are working on a sound wave prototype. Unfortunately, we hit a road block a few weeks ago. I believe the answer is in the programming.”

“Who’s your engineer?”

“Adam Harrison.”

“Brilliant guy,” Alistair says.

“Indeed, but programming is not his forte.”

“So you want me to help you design the coding for this gadget?”

“Precisely.”

“I’d like to, Sazuki, but I’m not sure I can handle the demand on my time.” Alistair stares into the distance. “Between Fine Industries, Belle’s Beauty and my family, I’m booked out.”

“If it is too much strain on your schedule, we can license your technology. I will hire someone to take over the research.”

He inhales deeply.

While Alistair thinks it over, I focus on Dejonae again. She is helping to clear up the UNO cards.

“Okay, guys,” she says. “Since Niko and I are the new kids today, we’d like to propose the next game.”

“What game?” Belle asks.

Dejonae’s eyes sparkle. “Gestures.”

“I’m in,” the boy with dark hair says.

“Me too.” The boy with glasses raises an arm.

“Don’t start without me!” a new voice cries.

The screen door bangs open and a little girl with light brown skin and hazel eyes rushes in.

She sends a distracted wave toward the table. “Hey, Mama Moira!”

“Hi, Beth!” the elder returns.

Beth makes a running leap and drops to her knees, smoothly sliding across the hardwood floors. She gains speed and barely manages to stop before she crashes into the older boy.

He extends a hand and steadies her.

“Thanks, Mikey,” Beth says.

“Don’t call me that,” the older boy grumbles.

“What took you so long?” the one with the glasses asks.

“Mom and dad had a meeting at Stinton Auto.” Beth rolls her eyes. “They took for-ever.” The newcomer whips her head around and notices Dejonae and Niko. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Dejonae grins.

“She’s deaf!” Belle points at Niko.

“Cool,” Beth says, nodding as if impressed.

Niko smiles tentatively at her.

“For this game, I’ll be the points keeper,” Dejonae says. “Everyone knows how to play Gestures, right?”

The children nod.

“I’ll add a new rule. Anyone who uses sign language correctly will get two extra points.”

“Oh, it’s on,” Beth says.

The two boys nod and lean forward as if they’re ready to run a race.

Dejonae chose Gestures intentionally. The realization hits me right between the eyes. In other games, Niko would be at a disadvantage. By choosing Gestures, Dejonae did not simply even the playing field.

She gave Niko the upper hand.

I can’t explain why I feel a sudden shiver.

“Okay,” Alistair says.

I startle and face him with guilty eyes.

His lips are tense when he nods. “I’ll make the time. I’ve heard about what your foundation plans to do for the deaf community. I think this is an important project and I want to be a part of it. I’ll talk to Kenya and work out a schedule that she’s comfortable with. I’d like to work hard and fast so the program is completed as soon as possible.”

“That sounds like a deal.” I shake his hand.

The door opens, admitting another couple. Right behind them is a man. The three send their greetings to the children who are so engrossed in the game that they barely acknowledge them.

Dejonae is the only one who turns and dips her head, shooting out a quick introduction.

“Vanya isn’t picking up,” Sunny says, emerging from the kitchen. She glides to the man who just entered and gives him a peck on the lips. “Hi, honey.”

“Sorry I’m late. The therapy session went longer than expected. Did you say something about Vanya and Hadyn?”

The elder jumps to her feet. “Darrel, I brought soursap juice for you to try. It’s in the fridge.”

“Thanks, Mama Moira,” Darrel grins.

The new couple notice me and lift their hands in welcome.

Alistair gestures to them. “This is Max and Dawn Stinton. Dawn is our resident mechanic. If you ever have car trouble, give her a call. There’s never been a vehicle she can’t fix.”

Max Stinton smirks as he takes off his suit jacket. “That should be your motto, Dawn. There’s never been a car she can’t fix.”

“I want royalties if you use my catchphrase,” Alistair says with a straight face.

Their easy camaraderie makes me feel strangely alone. My whole life, I set my identity in my family, but I never quite fit in.

The nail that sticks out is struck.

I learned to work together for the greater good, following the path set before me. But eventually, my heart wavered and I fell off the path. It cost me the family’s respect and approval.

Seeing this gathering, I wonder if all families are so severe.

And I wonder if some families are stronger even when they aren’t connected by blood.

It is with an uncanny eagerness that I send Niko off to school the next morning.

She signs ‘I love you’ as usual.

I remind her not to run from her music lessons and then return the gesture.

After waving to Akira, my daughter slips out of the car and heads into the school building. The private school has its own on-staff interpreter, which was one of the reasons I chose to enroll her there.

“She seems eager to go to school this morning,” Akira says, glancing at me from the rear-view mirror. “As eager as you are to go to work.”

I pretend to scroll through the news on my phone. “Holland Alistair invited me to a gathering yesterday. I took Niko along and she made friends with the children. They all promised to sit with her at lunch.” I pause. “Except the little one. I believe she is in a different grade.”

“Niko made friends so easily?”

I nod.

“Can they sign?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

“Then how does she plan to communicate?”

I think about how Dejonae helped Niko get over her shyness while simultaneously allowing the other children to see my daughter as just another peer. After that first game of Gestures, Niko opened up completely and Beth, especially, seemed to take to her.

“They will find a way.”

Akira’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “You do not seem concerned.”

“Is there something to worry about?”

“Children can be cruel. Especially to someone who is different.”

“My daughter is strong. And I believe that her new friends will be good for her.”

“Are they… of Miss Williams’ complexion?”

I slant her a warning glare. “They come from respectable, wealthy families and two-parent households. They seem smart, driven, and well-spoken. Most of all, they were very kind. Their skin tones have nothing to do with their ability to keep my daughter company, so I do not understand the question.”

Akira keeps quiet.

On most occasions, I would let her opinion pass. Akira grew up in Japan with very little exposure to other cultures. While in America, she suffered an incident which proved the stereotypes about Americans in general and black people in particular to be true.

Her comments have never crossed the line, so I choose not to fight with her. I know her loyalty to me and to Niko is unchanging. But this time, I feel compelled to discuss the topic.

Leaning forward, I ask, “Why did you assume that their complexion would have any bearing on their character?”

“You may choose to believe that it doesn’t, but I know differently.”

“You cannot judge an entire race because of a few bad encounters,” I inform her sternly.

“Forgive me, Ryotaro, but I am feeling particularly protective of young Niko.” She pauses. “I identified the boys who were harassing her in the street. Would it interest you to know that two of the four were black?”

I stiffen. A few days ago, I tasked Akira with finding the bullies that Vanya and Dejonae described. It had been easy enough to convince the shop owners to give up their security feed, but identifying the children had proven more difficult.

“Who are they?” I growl.

Keeping her eyes on the road, she lifts her tablet from the passenger seat and hands it to me.

I accept the device and turn it on.

There are four pictures of twelve-year-old boys. As Akira stated, two of them have dark skin, one is white and the other is racially ambiguous.

Akira flashes me a knowing look. “Now that you have seen it, would you still like to lecture me?”

“Akira.”

“Am I not allowed to judge them on their actions?” Her voice trembles. “Am I not allowed to be outraged by their behavior?”

I grit my teeth. “Of course you are allowed to be angry—as am I—but painting an entire race with your bad opinion is not only unfair, it is extremely hurtful to Niko. My daughter is both black and Japanese. She cannot deny one or the other. To speak badly of an entire race is to speak badly of my daughter and her mother. This is unacceptable.”

“Ryotaro.”

“I cannot control your thoughts, but I ask you to guard your words.”

Akira dips her head, still tense. “I will try.”

I tap my fingers on the tablet screen, thinking about my next move.

“What would you have me do about the bullies?” Akira’s eyes glint with revenge.

“Niko already dealt with the bullies. There is no need to go after them.”

“Are you saying we will do nothing?” She sounds disappointed.

“I did not say that.” Turning off the tablet, I set it aside. “How long will it take to find the names, addresses, and backgrounds of the children’s parents?”

“Not long. If they attend Niko’s school, they are likely wealthy and in the public eye.” She slows the car in front of the music foundation. “What do you plan to do with the parents?”

I cut her a sharp look.

Akira laughs softly when it dawns on her. “I feared you had gone soft.”

“This is why you should never doubt me.”

A satisfied smile on her red lips, she nods. “I will get their addresses right away.”

I look at my watch.

Dejonae should be in her first class now. It will be another two hours until she arrives.

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I gesture for Akira to follow me into the office. “We will get it done within two hours. I have a very important appointment today and I do not want to be late.”

American parents are so used to being coddled that it takes little effort to get my point across. One particularly disgruntled mother tried to throw salt at me but, otherwise, I emerged from my visits unscathed.

Akira drives me back to the foundation where I call Adam, get an update on his work and finalize plans to show Dejonae the lab later today.

When there is a knock on my door, I give a distracted, “Come in.”

A loud creak fills the air as the door widens.

I hear her before I see her.

Quick-paced footsteps. A heavy sigh. The scrape of a watch against jeans.

The air carries a hint of cinnamon.

I look up and fall into Dejonae Williams’ stormy brown eyes hidden beneath hunkering brows. It is our fourth meeting and yet she remains just as adversarial today as she did the night of the gala.

She is surprisingly stubborn for someone so young.

And people rarely surprise me.

Miss Williams remains at the door as if she wishes to leave as much space between us as possible. Her T-shirt is short and shows off a strip of her toned stomach. Her jeans are tight around her legs.

A large clip holds most of her thick, honey-tinged curls at the base of her head. There is no makeup on her face, not even lipstick, and yet she looks fresh-faced and glowing.

The perks of being young.

I lean back in my chair, letting it swing just a little.

A glimmer of disdain lives within her obsidian gaze. Will the kitten strike with her claws today?

“Miss Williams.”

“Mr. Sazuki.” Her full lips round the syllables in a crisp, hateful manner. She possesses a unique ability to turn my name into an expletive.

I glance at my watch.

She huffs in annoyance. “I’m on time.”

She is.

Yet another surprise.

I gesture to the overstuffed chairs. Like my home, I prefer my office to be well-lit and free of clutter.

Miss Williams hesitates, watching me suspiciously.

I quirk a brow. “Move quickly, Miss Williams. As I mentioned before, I have no time to waste.”

“And yet you have no problems wasting mine.”

I lean my elbows on the desk and steeple my fingers. “It seems you have something to say.”

“I do.” She marches to my table and smacks her hands down next to my laptop. Leaning in, she says firmly, “I’d like to make myself clear. I do not want to be here, and I do not appreciate the methods you took to get me here. You don’t like your time wasted and I don’t like to be disrespected, so let’s try not to piss each other off by doing what the other explicitly stated they dislike. Hm?”

I hold her stare, keeping perfectly still.

She maintains eye contact and refuses to back down.

My lips twitch. Perhaps I was wrong to call her a kitten. Miss Williams is a tiger—claws out, teeth bared, ready to bite.

“Do we have an understanding, Mr. Sazuki?” she insists.

My eyes slide down her beautiful face to her lips, which are pursed in aggravation, yet still manage to look full and inviting.

The air thickens between us as I continue to study her mouth.

Dark in tone, almost maroon.

Soft.

How sweet would they be?

I get a sudden and unwanted urge to scrape my teeth against her bottom lip.

Ignoring the shifting in my pants, I stare her down. Miss Williams’ stormy expression clears away as the silence stretches. People who wish to fight need an adversary. When none is presented, they quickly realize their own folly.

Her face morphs from unwavering to uncertain.

She’s shaken so easily.

I blame it on her youth.

Or maybe her lack of real world experience.

According to her file, Miss Williams was raised by two loving and protective parents. They kept her close to home and provided everything she could need. She has not been taught how cold, how ruthless, the world can be as yet.

It seems I’ve been given the task to teach her.

A beat passes.

Two.

Her mouth softens. She withdraws from the table.

This retreat should not be so enjoyable. I do not wish to break Miss Williams, but I am interested to see how much of her fire I can withstand before I burn.

“Whether you like it or not, Miss Williams,” I rise from the desk and approach her, “you and I will be working very closely together until your graduation.”

“I’d rather report to someone else.”

“Not possible.” I stop directly in front of her.

“I don’t like you,” she states heatedly.

I lean close to her ear. “Is this any way to speak to the man who holds your future in his hands?”

Her eyes turn hot again and she slices me with a glare.

I walk past her to hide my amusement. “Come with me. We will start with a tour.”

She hardly seems enthused to follow me outside, but she bites down on her bottom lip and keeps a few paces behind.

The receptionist jumps to her feet when I leave my office.

“Mr. Sazuki, would you like me to…”

“It is okay, Yumi. I will lead Miss Williams’ tour.”

She dips her head and returns to her station.

I gesture to the cubicles upstairs. “This is the administration department. Since we rent out the concert hall, a small team is responsible for event scheduling, keeping accounts, and coordinating with the city.”

“Is the concert hall right downstairs?” Dejonae asks, sounding slightly intrigued.

I glance over my shoulder. “I will show you.”

She follows me into the elevator and stays all the way on the other side. Despite the distance, I am keenly aware of her. The way she worries her bottom lip. The way she grips her purse. The way she tries hard not to look at me.

Her perfume rides the air, filling my stomach with a strange, tumultuous feeling.

I am glad when the doors open and I can stumble out.

Dejonae disembarks more slowly, her eyes darting all around the hallway. “There are so many signs.”

“To make the venue more accessible.” I sweep my arm to the right. “The concert hall is right up those stairs. The practice rooms are to the left.”

A man exits a practice room and walks in our direction. He stops when he sees me and a shocked look crosses his face. I assume he is another fan and prepare myself for the usual exclamations, questions and requests for pictures.

But when we get closer, I realize his eyes are not on me.

“Dejonae?” The man gasps.

Miss Williams stops in her tracks. Her body tenses. “Jordan?”

“Do you know him?” I ask, feeling strangely possessive.

“Do you know him?” she whispers back.

I notice the badge on his shirt and remember that we’d recently hired an on-staff sign language interpreter.

Looking down at Dejonae, I say, “He is the newest member of our staff.”

She looks back up at me and hisses, “He’s my ex-boyfriend.”