BILLIONAIRE SERIES: HIS AMBER

Chapter 8: Uncomfortable for him

AMBER'S POV

"Mr. Satoh! You really are a crazy man. That sense of humor of yours is too much," I said with a smile.

"A man can never make a woman laugh too hard. If there aren't tears in her eyes from the joy I bring, then what point is there to making a woman smile?" he asked.

"Her face really lights up with her smile. It's my favorite attribute in her," Simoun said.

I looked over at him before I leaned in close to his body. I was enjoying our "date." I was enjoying pretending to be his fiancée. Especially when he got flustered at how close I was to him. For a billionaire, he really did blush like a virgin. And I enjoyed it greatly. But he acted as if he hadn't been dating much, because he was still pretty reserved in his actions. I made a mental note to do a little googling of my client once we parted ways for the evening. I always got a brief rundown of Matilda and her files, but most men weren't interested enough to research more thoroughly than that. Usually, the information in her files was enough.

But Simoun? There was something about him that was endearing. Something about him that was innocent behind those devious eyes. He was like a lost little puppy, and I wanted to know him better.

Even if I could only get that information from the internet.

"Miss Amber, do you work at all?"

Simoun practically choked on his wine as my eyes fell onto the only other female at the table.

"Simoun is struggling to swallow his drink because I do," I said. "And usually, that isn't found in the personal circles he keeps. I run my own business. It's certainly not to the scale my fiancé has, but it supported me before I met him and it supports me now."

"Beautiful and independent. How in the world did you get so lucky?" Onel asked.

"Don't worry. The second we start having children, I have no intentions of continuing to work. I told Simoun I would never give up my business until we began filling our home with children. Then? It would be time to be a mother."

"Simoun, if you're not careful, I might just be looking at my second wife," Onel said.

"Don't let your wife catch you speaking that way. She might give you the boot for someone richer," I said playfully.

"I dare you to find someone richer than old royalty."

"Is that a challenge?"

Onel was a character, but all of the folks at the table were typical old money. Entitled. Elitist. Sexist in the most covert ways. Generally more ignorant than they let on. So, I had to play into that mindset. I had to paint myself as the exact kind of woman people like them would want standing at Simoun's side. Even if none of it was true. I leaned back against my chair as Onel continued to laugh at our banter, and I felt Simoun slide his arm around my waist.

I had to hold back a shiver as his warmth cascaded along my skin.

I was painfully aware of how focused Onel was on us, which meant I had to stay on my toes the entire dinner. It was obvious Simoun wasn't

trained at lying on the fly, and since he had actively avoided me, it sat on my shoulders to dig him out of the hole he fell into the second someone asked him how we had met. A cover story for this kind of thing was imperative. Did he not know that? It didn't matter. Because of the way I lived my life, I was incredibly skilled at coming up with legitimate-sounding backstories.

"Oh, Amber. I do wish my wife could have been here. She would have loved your sense of humor," Onel said.

"I do hope to meet her sometime," I said.

"I'm sure if she caught the eye of a man such as yourself, she would be a wonderful woman."

"A little opinionated some of the time, but she knows her place," he said.

"Until you ruffle her feathers, I'm sure. I bet she's a fighter, isn't she? Like her husband?" I asked.

"Amber, I think you're carrying the conversation away a bit too much," Simoun said. "We do have other things to discuss."

I turned my gaze to look over at him and tried not to give him the weirdest look imaginable.

"My apologies," I said. "I have a tendency to be a chatterbox."

"Nonsense. We're enjoying learning more about you."

"I do want to touch on one subject, however. Onel, has your lawyer looked over the paperwork I sent off a few weeks ago?" Simoun asked.

I nudged him underneath the table with my knee. He wasn't reading the mood of the table. He was attempting to force a conversation Onel wasn't ready to have yet. It wasn't the time to make deals and talk shop. Onel Satoh had an ego, and he was the type that needed buttering up. I was familiar with his kind. The first half of the dinner alone would be spent volleying his questions and taking a very astute interest in his life, no matter how boring or idiotic it was.

"Oh, such boring talk," I said with a smile. "Onel, I want to hear more about these family jewels."

"A woman can never hear too much about expensive things," he said.

"I'm a sucker for about a story of royalty."

"You sure you want to marry old Simoun over there, then?" Onel asked.

"I think you might need to talk with your wife before you go proposing to a woman who's engaged," I said with a giggle.

I was glad Simoun backed off and read my signals. I kept Onel engaged in conversations about himself because it served two purposes. One, it got the attention off us spinning more lies to keep up with; and two, it continued to butter him up and get him slickened for talking business. The lights of the restaurant finally dimmed and our dessert plates were taken away, and Onel gave me the signal all fat, rich men gave.

He leaned back in his chair and ordered himself a glass of Scotch.

"Well, I enjoyed this evening far more than I had intended," Onel said.

"Likewise," I said. "It's been an absolute pleasure."

"She's good for you, Simoun. You should keep her away from men like me," he said.

"I'll take that to heart," Simoun said.

"What are the two of you doing tomorrow morning?" Onel asked.

"Oh, the mornings are for us," Simoun said.

I nudged him again underneath the table as he pulled me closer to him. Holy hell, the man was an i***t. Was work the only thing he was focused on?

"The reason I ask is because I want the two of you to attend temple with me tomorrow. I've never missed a Sunday, and neither has either of my family," Onel said.

"We would love to. It's a real honor for you to invite us, thank you," I said.

I felt Simoun's fingers dig into my side as I plastered a smile on my face.

"Then it's settled. The two of you will join me and my family for temple in the morning. The service starts at ten. I'll send a car for you. Where are you staying?" Onel asked.

"Amanemu- ishe- shima National Park" Simoun said.

"Beautiful taste in women and hotels. See? We need more men like you in this world," Onel said.

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual," I said with a smile.

All of us stood from the table and I could tell Simoun was perturbed. But if he was really under the impression that whatever deal he had on the table would've been signed tonight, then he was sorely mistaken on how business trips like this worked. Another thing that made him peculiar for the billionaire he was. Wasn't he used to this sort of thing?

We went down the line, and give bows to each other. A proper Japanese farewell to the firing squad we had just come under fire from. I got to the last man in the line and after I bowed at him, his hand slip a little lower than I enjoyed. I attempted to give the piece of paper back from him prematurely, and his hand gripped my hip, bringing his lips a little too close to the corner of mine. I tried to smile and play it off before sliding my hand down his arm and wrapping it around his wrist. I was an engaged woman for the week, after all. He had no business touching me in that fashion.

Then, he tried to slip me his number. With his wife standing right next to him.

It just went to show me that money could never buy class.

We walked away from the crowd of people, and I slipped my arm into Simoun's. I leaned in close, then turned my lips to his ear to say something. I wanted to make a very intimate exit, both for the sake of the ruse and for the man that fondled me in front of his wife. But the second my lips fell upon his ears, he tensed. He was uncomfortable with the closeness.

But I didn't want to back away. We needed to put on a good show.

At least, that was the reason I gave myself.

"You did great tonight," I said into his ear.

He turned his face toward mine as the two of us headed out the front double doors.

"I could say the same about you," he said.

He escorted me into the car before he wrapped around and got in. But he sat farther away from me than I figured he would. I knew he wanted me. It was painfully obvious by the way he stared at me and constantly shifted his pants. Truth be told, I wouldn't mind sleeping with him as a client. He was attractive. Intelligent. Just a dash of awkward. Very headstrong. And his body in a suit called to me in ways I attempted to bat away from me all evening long. I enjoyed being around him, more than I usually did with my clients, and I thought that sleeping with him might be a fun way to pass the rest of the evening before ushering us into the temple.

After all, what better ruse was there for an engaged couple than to go to a temple a little worse for wear?

I attempted to slide a little closer to him, but he scooted farther away. Despite the bulge growing against his pants, he was eager to get away from me. So I didn't press it. I didn't want to upset him in any way. And the last thing I needed was to blow this for Matilda. She would fire me in a heartbeat, and I would be back at square one trying to find a job with my necessary need for anonymity.

But the tension in the car was too much for me.

The way his eyes darted over to me. The way he drew in deep breaths through his nose. The way that flush crept up into his cheeks. He was physically fighting it, and I didn't know why. I was here to serve him. To please him. To help him pull this off. And part of my résumé was to give him what he wanted-sexually or otherwise. So, why was Simoun fighting it so much? Why not simply take what he wanted? He had no issues, almost destroying his chances at landing whatever contract he was fishing for, but he had issues sitting close to me?

I didn't buy it.

We got back to the hotel, and he stepped away from me the second we got into the elevator. And in some respects, it made me feel ugly. As if I was the exact opposite of what he wanted to be seen in public. But the way he cleared his throat and the way he stood with his legs a little further apart told me otherwise.

"If you don't want to fight it, then don't," I said.

His eyes whipped over to mine as a grin slid across my cheeks.

"I'm yours for the week. And what we do doesn't have to all be pretend," I said.

I felt his eyes scoot down my form as the elevator doors opened into the penthouse suite. I walked into the room and paid attention to the way my heels clicked against the floor. That was the only hint I knew to drop. The only thing I knew to say that would get his attention and let him know that I was open to the idea of it. He didn't specify anything in that arena on the paperwork, but now that I had been around him, I got the distinct feeling that the subject embarrassed him. Maybe he didn't want to designate anything like that because he simply wasn't that type of man.

Maybe Simoun Cardenas wasn't the kind of man to require that of a woman, even if he was paying for her services.

So, I figured I'd got ahead and throw my consent out there for him to chew on.

After all, the worst he could say was no.