The parking lot is a concrete purgatory, all oil stains and empty spaces stretching toward a horizon of gray. Irina and I have been sitting in her SUV for twenty minutes now, waiting for a woman who might be worse than Selena, though that seems impossible.
"Your tie is crooked," Irina says, reaching over to adjust it with quick, efficient movements. Her knuckles brush against my throat above the collar she removed ten minutes ago, the touch lingering longer than necessary.
I try not to lean into her hand, even though I want to. These past couple weeks have been confusing as hell. During our streams, she looks at me like I'm the only man on earth. Off-camera, she's distant one minute, loving the next. And then she'll whiplash into possessiveness. I never know which version of her I'm going to get.
"Is this one going to be as weird as Selena?" I ask, fidgeting with my cufflinks. The suit she's dressed me in today is charcoal gray, expensive-looking, and tight in all the wrong places. I feel like I'm playing dress-up.
"Reiko is..." Irina pauses, something flashing across her face that might be concern. "Different."
"Different how?" My stomach tightens. The last time Irina was vague about a client, I ended up discussing "whoremaxxing" over spaghetti with a cartel boss.
Instead of answering, Irina checks her watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Her jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping beneath her skin.
"Hey," I say, touching her arm gently. "You okay? You seem tense."
She pulls away from my touch like it burns. "I'm fine."
I reach for her hand again, this time wrapping my fingers firmly around hers. "Don't pull away," I say, my voice steadier than I feel inside. "Please just tell me what's wrong."
Her eyes flash with such cold fury that I almost let go. It's the same look she gave me when I first arrived, when I was just merchandise to her. My instinct screams to retreat, to protect myself from whatever storm is brewing inside her.
But just as my grip loosens, her fingers suddenly tighten around mine. The death glare softens into something more complicated.
"Remember," she says, her voice dropping to a whisper, "you belong to me."
"I know." The words come out automatically, a truth I've stopped fighting.
My crotch itches, and I reach down to scratch it without thinking. This morning, Irina shaved me completely bare, "Reiko's request," she'd explained while wielding the razor with clinical precision. The memory makes me squirm in my seat.
Irina's hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist before I can reach my destination. "Don't itch it," she says firmly. "You'll make it red."
I'm about to protest when a sleek black Lexus pulls into the space beside us, bass thumping so loud it makes our windows vibrate. The music cuts off abruptly as the engine dies.
The car door swings open, and Reiko Hayashida emerges in one fluid motion, like she's stepping onto a runway instead of a grimy parking lot. Her eyes find me through the window and light up with unmistakable hunger, her lips curving into a predatory smile that makes my stomach flip.
"Well, well," she purrs, striding to my side of the SUV. Her dragon tattoo seems to writhe along her arm as she moves.
She opens my door with a flourish, bowing slightly. "Matthew, I presume? It's my pleasure."
I glance back at Irina, whose face has gone completely blank, that perfect mask she wears when she's hiding something. My hand instinctively reaches for the collar that isn't there anymore, feeling strangely naked without it.
"Go on," Irina says, her voice tight.
I slide out of the SUV, my expensive shoes hitting the concrete with a soft click. Reiko's golden eyes scan me from head to toe, not even pretending to be subtle about it. Her gaze lingers on my throat where the collar usually sits.
"Irina didn't exaggerate," Reiko says, circling me like I'm livestock at auction. "You're quite the specimen."
"Thanks?" I manage, unsure if I should be flattered or terrified.
"Oh, and he speaks!" Reiko claps her hands together in mock delight. "How refreshing. The last one Irina loaned me just grunted and whimpered."
I feel Irina stiffen beside me. I didn't even notice her getting out of the SUV, but suddenly she's there, a protective shadow at my side.
"I told you the rules," Irina says coldly. "He's returned to me in the same condition I delivered him."
Reiko waves her hand dismissively. "Yes, yes. I remember your tedious requirements." Her golden eyes flash with something that might be amusement or malice. "I'll take good care of your investment."
Her hand lands on my lower back, fingers splayed possessively. The touch is light but somehow feels like a brand burning through my suit jacket.
"Sayonara, Irina-chan," Reiko says with exaggerated sweetness, wiggling her fingers in a mocking wave.
Irina's face darkens instantly. Without another word, she turns on her heel and marches back to the SUV. The door slams with enough force to echo across the parking lot, and the engine roars to life. She peels out of the parking space, tires squealing against the concrete.
I watch her go with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Now I'm alone with this stranger whose golden eyes seem to see right through me.
"Did Irina teach you what to call me?" Reiko asks, her hand still pressed against my lower back.
"Reiko?" I venture, glancing sideways at her.
She clicks her tongue against her teeth, shaking her head like I'm a disappointing student. "No, no, no. That won't do at all."
Her fingers slide up my spine, coming to rest at the nape of my neck where they squeeze just hard enough to make me tense. "You will call me Hayashida-sama. It shows proper respect."
"Hayashida-sama," I repeat carefully, testing the unfamiliar syllables.
"Very good," she purrs, her golden eyes gleaming with approval. "You learn quickly. That will serve you well today."
She guides me toward the hotel, her hand still resting on the back of my neck. Her grip is firm but not painful, just enough to remind me that she's in control. As we walk, I notice how people's eyes follow her fearfully.
The hotel lobby is all marble and crystal, way fancier than the place Selena took me. The staff practically bow when Reiko walks past, their eyes carefully avoiding direct contact with her. One glance at the dragon tattoo snaking up her arm and I get why, she radiates dangerous power like heat from an open flame.
"Your establishment continues to meet my standards," she tells the concierge, who responds with a deep bow and a keycard offered on both palms like some precious artifact.
The elevator ride is silent and tense. Reiko stands too close, studying me with those unsettling golden eyes like I'm a puzzle she can't wait to take apart.
When the doors finally open, she leads me down a hallway to a corner suite. The room she unlocks is massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. But what catches my attention is the enormous dining table in the center of the room, dark polished wood that gleams under the chandelier, surrounded by high-backed chairs.
"Now," she says, circling the dining table with predatory grace, "I want you to strip completely naked and lie down on your back on this table."
My brain short-circuits. "What?"