Billionaires in Tokyo

“Do you know where they went last night?”

Junri shakes her head. “I can guess, but my aunt would know. We’ll ask her.”

“I should have gone straight to her, but I didn’t think you would be having a night off. I’m sorry for interrupting your, uh… evening.”

Junri shrugs. Nothing about her expression suggests she wants to keep up a façade. “It’s a date. I can see them again later.”

Good job, Kathryn. Cock block a woman who works twice as much as you do in a society where free time is the most precious commodity. Junri probably needed this night to keep her sanity, and what do you do? Drag her away from a date!

“You don’t have to help. I can find your aunt.”

“Oh, no. She’s not at the hotel. I know where she is. I’ll take you. Wait a moment.”

She goes to her date, bends over, and whispers something in the man’s ear. A low, gravelly voice reassures her before they share a kiss. The man pulls out a cigarette as soon as Junri settles the tab with the restaurant. They give each other one last glance, and good God, is it painful. I know what it’s like to put on airs in public, to throw people watching off your loving scent. This is the sort of thing that transcends culture. When two people are deeply in love but don’t want to admit it.

Is this the person they were talking about last night? The person below an heiress’ station? He looks like a scruffy bad boy, even in his pristine dress shirt, jacket, and slacks. The masculine, over-the-top alpha way he takes Junri by the hand and gives her a kiss in front of me is both meant to be a parting gift – and a display of ownership to the whole room.

A room full of women, but whatever.

Junri’s blushing like a schoolgirl as she passes me with her purse on her shoulder. “This… this way.” Now I feel even worse. I was tearing this hardworking woman away from a guy who was probably going to fuck her until she couldn’t breathe anymore. That’s absolute cruelty in my world.

“You really don’t have to do this.” I follow her down the stairs and onto the narrow street. She pulls out a tissue and wipes her nose before hailing a taxi on the corner. The driver automatically opens the doors for us, and we slip in, my head constantly turning back toward Life of Lily. “If you tell me where your aunt is, I could go find her myself. Maybe she could help me contact the police.”

“Don’t involve the police.” Junri doesn’t bother to buckle up as she gets on her phone. I’m assuming she’s calling her aunt. “We can find him ourselves. If something happened on my family’s watch, I would have found out. You would have found out. I promise you that my family is not involved with Mr. Mathers’s disappearance, but they may have a solid lead.”

“But? You’re leaving something else out.”

She shudders. “It has nothing to do with this situation.”

Right. I took her away from her hot date. I’d be annoyed too.

We drive north toward a ward called Ikebukuro, another party hotspot that is crawling with tourists and young clubbers alike. On the surface it looks the same as every other main neighborhood in Tokyo, but I guess many of the people traipsing up and down the crowded sidewalks are different from what you see elsewhere.

Of course, none of them look like Ian.

Fujiko Isoya would have been completely elusive to my foreigner eyes if it weren’t for her niece leading the way into an upscale karaoke lounge. The howling sounds of ‘80s music blasts through the chambers every time someone opens a sound-proofed door. Occasionally a well-dressed man or woman emerges to use the restroom. There are no other foreigners here, and I definitely get a look when I walk in behind Junri.

I don’t know what she says to the receptionist, but five minutes later Fujiko graces us with her presence from the very last lounge down the hall.

She’s wearing a sleek, emerald green wrap dress that accentuates her svelte figure and the green scarf wrapped around her head. A cigarette perches between her delicate fingers as she gives her niece a hardened look. Gone is the mischievous demeanor from last night. I’m hoping we’re not interrupting something terribly important.

Aunt and niece exchange words I can’t understand. Junri is soft-spoken and deferent, while Fujiko keeps things curt. I could choke on the power imbalance in this room. (What does that make me? A complete non-entity? Probably.)

“You can’t find Mr. Mathers?” One eyebrow arches in my direction. Cigarette smoke trails up toward the ceiling, the stench offending my nostrils. “After the party with my brother and nephew?”

I shake my head. “I’ve been looking all day and trying to contact him. His assistant can’t find him, either. I’m really starting to worry.”