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“She speaks English. You don’t need to speak to her in her native language,” I say as I sit next to her, pulling her shoulders to me.
She’s enjoying flirting with him. Toying with him in my presence.
“But I don’t speak it very well. So, it’s best you teach me in Spanish.”
“In fact, it’s better if you learn a new language from your second and not your native tongue,” Hiroshi corrects her.
“You seem to have forgotten your hand!” I bark as I break up this little flirting game, because he is still holding her hand. I toss his to him the same way I would trash.
A vision starts in my mind, which makes me nearly pop a vein. I can see them sitting down and him trying to put a loose strand of hair from her bun behind her ear. Then he leans in, and they kiss. I’m not married to Leticia officially, so she wouldn’t be unfaithful, especially after the way I’ve been treating her. If anything, I’ve directed her right into the lion’s den.
Not on my fucking watch!
“In fact, I’ve decided you don’t need to teach my wife. I can do that.”
His smile turns to a frown. I know his version of teaching billionaire wives Japanese may be completely different in his culture compared to everyone else’s. Maybe that’s why he comes so highly recommended. Because he entertains wives, not teach them. It would be like the classic case of the tennis coaches in America that are hired to teach the men’s wives tennis but end up entertaining them with off-the-court activities.
I didn’t hire him for that. I need this deal to go through, and if the Japanese weren’t so traditional, then we wouldn’t be here now.
“Oh no, Diego. You said my English is so bad. Isn’t it better that I have a professional?”
“I am a professional,” I snarl.
“So am I,” Hiroshi responds.
“No one asked you!” I yell at Hiroshi.
“You drag me here when I should be on my honeymoon after the emotional experience I went through, and now you’re sacking the teacher. Diego Aranda de Hernandez, what do you want?” she asks as she puts her hands on her hips.
I ignore her and I turn my head toward Hiroshi.
“Hiroshi, you can see yourself out. I’ll pay you for the time you could have been spending teaching her.”
He hesitates, but then maybe it is the way my eyes flare that makes him change his mind and nod his head.
“Sorry, Hiroshi,” she sighs, pouting and biting her lip.
I grab her hand again as Hiroshi finally leaves.
“You want to know what I want? Let me fucking show you!”
Leticia doesn’t protest as she shuffles in her kimono, struggling to keep up with me. I know with her small frame, one stride of mine is like two to three for her, but I’m a man on a mission, one not to be messed with, especially by my fake wife. Silence is the only thing keeping me from not taking her here and now, or so I thought. She jerks her hand back as we reach her bedroom door.
I kiss her with a hunger that should scare the hell out of her, then pin her against the wall. My hands take on a mind of their own as they run up her sides and leave no part of her upper body untouched until I reach her ass and squeeze.
“Ah,” she moans into my mouth.
I hold her up until our mouths are at the same height, then she loops her arms and legs around me to pull me closer. Her dress is riding up, and my length is near her entrance. It turns me on even more.
“You’re so fucking wet!” I growl. I can feel it through my pants.
I bring one hand up and wrap it under her chin to make eye contact with her.
“Do you want me to show you what being my wife means?”
“Yes.” Her voice trembles.
“Be careful what you wish for.”
