last kick. The first round match-ups are random, so you never know who will be matched with whom. That’s what makes them far more exciting to the audience. Exhibitions win far more new students than championship matches, and we want the viewing public to hunger for you and Sheng Li after the tournament.” Her long, slim fingers went to her neckline, lightly playing with it so that Gian was forced to notice the deep plunge of her cleavage. “You make it very easy to hunger for you, Gian.”
The left side of his mouth hooked into a subtle grin when Kuriko’s toes grasped at the place his crotch had been. He gave them a light squeeze before moving her foot, guiding it back to the floor.
Kuriko pushed her coffee aside and rested her arms on the table. She sat up straight, instantly changing her p osture from bedroom to boardroom. “You don’t seem yourself, Gian,” she said briskly. “If you don’t think you’ll be prepared for the tournament, it would be best if you told Hok now. Better to delay the launch of Sheng Li than force it before you’re completely ready.”
“I’m on track with my preparations for the tourna ment. Don’t you worry. This thing will happen.”
“Then why won’t you come back to my hotel with me?”
At the nearest table, an older lady with a glossy blue rinse hid an amused smirk behind a fork wrapped in glassy rice noodles. Her dining companion’s eyebrows rose; his wide eyes darted between Gian and Kuriko. Shaking his head, he chuckled, and Gian knew exactly what he was thinking: You’re crazy for not going to the ends of the Earth with this woman.
“I didn’t know that I’d been invited.” Gian sighed. “You have a standing invitation.”
Or appointment, Gian thought. He ran his hand over his head. Kuriko had made it very clear that she desired nothing more than “a bit of fun” from him or any other man. Pritchard Hok Industries took her all over the world, and Gian had no delusions that he was her only fun.
But even as he recalled the many varieties of fun they had enjoyed in New York City, he had no desire to revisit them. Funnily enough, he had no desire for her at all. She had touched him intimately in a semi-public place, yet his flesh hadn’t stirred. He hadn’t been with a woman in months, not since his last visit to Manhattan for his ini t ial meeting with Pritchard Hok. He had looked forward to this meeting all day for its own sake—not because he had a sure thing in Kuriko.
Kuriko had sat before him all through dinner, teasing him with her eyes as much as her toes, yet her obvious interest had failed to dislodge the reason for his inability to devote his full interest to her. He couldn’t stop thinking of Cinder and what her toes might be doing to Chip.
* * *
The day after his meeting with Pritchard Hok, Gian stood in his kitchen waiting for his teaching staff to fill their plates and seat themselves in his media room. Karl jumped ahead of Sionne to pick over the spread Gian had laid out, heaping his plate with chicken wings, baked ziti, pasta salad, and spare ribs.
“Need any help with that?” Gian watched Karl top his mountainous plate of food with three steaming garlic knots.
“I’m good.” Karl plopped a dollop of bleu cheese dressing onto his buffalo wings, slopping a glop onto the floor. Tucking two bottles of Schlafly ale under his arm, he carefully stepped over the mess and left the kitchen. “I got dibs on the La-Z-Boy!”
Gian took a napkin from the package on the counter and stooped to wipe up the dressing. The bamboo flooring was durable, but the last thing he needed was one of his instructors slipping and breaking an ankle in t he midst of training for the most important tournament in Sheng Li’s short history.
“This is some spread, chief,” Sionne said, passing Gian a second napkin. “You cook, you clean. You’re gonna make a great little wife someday.”
“Up yours, junior,” Gian grumbled.
At almost three hundred
The left side of his mouth hooked into a subtle grin when Kuriko’s toes grasped at the place his crotch had been. He gave them a light squeeze before moving her foot, guiding it back to the floor.
Kuriko pushed her coffee aside and rested her arms on the table. She sat up straight, instantly changing her p osture from bedroom to boardroom. “You don’t seem yourself, Gian,” she said briskly. “If you don’t think you’ll be prepared for the tournament, it would be best if you told Hok now. Better to delay the launch of Sheng Li than force it before you’re completely ready.”
“I’m on track with my preparations for the tourna ment. Don’t you worry. This thing will happen.”
“Then why won’t you come back to my hotel with me?”
At the nearest table, an older lady with a glossy blue rinse hid an amused smirk behind a fork wrapped in glassy rice noodles. Her dining companion’s eyebrows rose; his wide eyes darted between Gian and Kuriko. Shaking his head, he chuckled, and Gian knew exactly what he was thinking: You’re crazy for not going to the ends of the Earth with this woman.
“I didn’t know that I’d been invited.” Gian sighed. “You have a standing invitation.”
Or appointment, Gian thought. He ran his hand over his head. Kuriko had made it very clear that she desired nothing more than “a bit of fun” from him or any other man. Pritchard Hok Industries took her all over the world, and Gian had no delusions that he was her only fun.
But even as he recalled the many varieties of fun they had enjoyed in New York City, he had no desire to revisit them. Funnily enough, he had no desire for her at all. She had touched him intimately in a semi-public place, yet his flesh hadn’t stirred. He hadn’t been with a woman in months, not since his last visit to Manhattan for his ini t ial meeting with Pritchard Hok. He had looked forward to this meeting all day for its own sake—not because he had a sure thing in Kuriko.
Kuriko had sat before him all through dinner, teasing him with her eyes as much as her toes, yet her obvious interest had failed to dislodge the reason for his inability to devote his full interest to her. He couldn’t stop thinking of Cinder and what her toes might be doing to Chip.
* * *
The day after his meeting with Pritchard Hok, Gian stood in his kitchen waiting for his teaching staff to fill their plates and seat themselves in his media room. Karl jumped ahead of Sionne to pick over the spread Gian had laid out, heaping his plate with chicken wings, baked ziti, pasta salad, and spare ribs.
“Need any help with that?” Gian watched Karl top his mountainous plate of food with three steaming garlic knots.
“I’m good.” Karl plopped a dollop of bleu cheese dressing onto his buffalo wings, slopping a glop onto the floor. Tucking two bottles of Schlafly ale under his arm, he carefully stepped over the mess and left the kitchen. “I got dibs on the La-Z-Boy!”
Gian took a napkin from the package on the counter and stooped to wipe up the dressing. The bamboo flooring was durable, but the last thing he needed was one of his instructors slipping and breaking an ankle in t he midst of training for the most important tournament in Sheng Li’s short history.
“This is some spread, chief,” Sionne said, passing Gian a second napkin. “You cook, you clean. You’re gonna make a great little wife someday.”
“Up yours, junior,” Gian grumbled.
At almost three hundred
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