Lana(12)

I wanted to pull out my hair; he was so frustrating. “I didn’t want to sleep on the beach. Like I told you, I got lost.”

“Why did you take off like that? I told you to wait outside.” He didn’t look up at me as he spoke, still rubbing his temples, but I could tell from his voice just how angry he was.

His words made me angry, as well. “Did you think that I was just going to wait patiently for you outside while you made up with your girlfriend?” I asked, trying to make my voice sound steady, instead of hurt.

His head snapped up at that, his eyes wild and baffled. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

I waved off his comment. “Whatever it is you call her, I didn’t want to wait on standby while you went through your usual makeup/breakup routine with her.” I stood up and took a step, intending to walk out of the room. I needed to escape to the restroom, or anywhere, really. I just needed to get out of his sight before I burst into tears.

The abuse I’d inflicted on my starved body in the last twenty-four hours presented itself at that moment, when I stood so fast that my vision went fuzzy. I swayed on my feet for an endless moment right before I collapsed into a dead faint.

I couldn’t have been out for long. I was cradled in his arms when I came to, and we were still in the hotel, though Akira was striding out the door even as I roused.

“Where are we going?” I asked him in a weak voice.

He glanced down at me, his hard face showing relief that I was awake. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

I shifted in his arms, trying to get down. He just squeezed me tighter. “I don’t need to go to the hospital. I probably just fainted from hunger,” I told him, flushing. I felt like a particularly irresponsible child at the confession.

He blanched at my words, turning around to stride back into the hotel, heading straight into the promenade that led to the large selection of restaurants that the resort hosted. His face was hard and bleak, his mouth turned down in a stark frown, as he studied me. “When did you last eat?” he asked in a gruff voice.

“I ate at Tutu’s yesterday, right before I ran into you. But I was…sick, right after I left your house, so I’m not sure if that counts.”

His lower lip trembled a little, as though with strong emotion. I blinked up at him, wondering if I was seeing things. I was exhausted, dehydrated, and starving, so it wasn’t much of a stretch to think that I might be having hallucinations.

“I’ll order some food, and just eat it in my office. I need to get some things done, so I can set up the meetings that I came here for, before I head back to the mainland. You can put me down. I’m okay now.”

He squeezed me tighter. “Just shut up, Lana.”

My eyes snapped open in shock. Never in my life had he told me to shut up. It was so out of character for him that I actually obeyed.

He carried me into the first restaurant we came to. The staff recognized both of us on sight, and ushered Akira to a secluded table. He ordered as he walked. “She needs to eat immediately, so just bring us whatever is available right away.”

“Yes, sir,” the hostess said, striding away to comply.

He tried to set me in my own chair, but my arms just wrapped around his neck of their own volition.

He sighed, then sat. I sat up, turning until my back was against his chest, my head laid back against his shoulder. It felt so good, in spite of everything, just to be held in his massive arms. His arms had relaxed as I shifted on his lap, and I pulled them tightly around me again. He made a little humming noise, his cheek just touching the top of my head, and tightened those arms just how I wanted.

“You’ll be the death of me, baby,” he murmured against my hair. “Just what am I going to do with you?”

“I’ll be gone soon enough. So nothing, I suppose,” I said, feeling despondent at the thought.

His arms squeezed me. “Tell me about this mainland life you seem to need. Is it so much better for you, living in California?” His voice was very serious, as though he expected a very thorough answer.

Again, I thought it was unmercifully cruel for him to ask me that. I mulled over the question, feeling all of my old wounds as though they were fresh. “California? Is that where you think I live?” I asked, baffled by that. My parents lived there, and I traveled there frequently for work, but by no stretch of the imagination did I live there.

He gave me a little shake. “Your father and brother both told me that was where your residence was, when I asked them about you.”

“You asked them about me?”

He tugged on a lock of my hair, hard. “Oww!” I told him.

“Of course I ask them about you. You don’t talk to me. How else could I check up on you?” His tone was chiding, and I detected a genuine hurt in it as well. I was surprised into silence by the realization. Had he expected me to call him?

After all of the ways I had embarrassed the both of us, seducing him with absolutely no shame, and then professing my undying love for him afterward. He couldn’t have been more clear about the fact that he could not return my feelings, and I had been mortified and devastated. He had felt guilty, and been embarrassed by the whole sordid thing. The thought had never even occurred to me that he would ever want anything to do with me again.

“So where do you live, then?” he asked after a long silence.