Lorelei James: Unwound

“Thank you. So are you. Your rope work is stunning.” She paused. “It’s really a shame you’ve sworn off public demos.”

Shocked, he said, “What?”

Her eyes turned serious. “Look, I’ve wrestled with bringing this up with you, so I’m just going to say it straight out; I don’t want you to give up such an integral part of who you are.”

Ronin stared at her silently, unsure if he’d heard her correctly.

“I’m not saying this because I’ve got some secret desire for you to bind me in front of large crowds at a sex club on a regular basis. But, sweetheart, a sex club isn’t the only place you can teach and give demos. You have plenty of space at the dojo to offer private lessons. You could hold basic beginner classes on tying techniques for couples, or offer classes to Doms and Dommes who want to learn advanced techniques. You are a master—and that comes with responsibilities. You have to teach and pass on those skills. I would feel guilty if your hesitation to continue demo teaching was solely because of me.”

“It’s not.” He brushed his knuckles across her jaw. “Haven’t you noticed that I tend to have the all-or-nothing mind-set?”

She gasped with total sarcasm. “No. Really?”

He playfully swatted her rear.

“There is a catch, however.” Amery smiled—all teeth. “I am your rope model. Your only rope model, whether we do a full demo or a simple chest harness. I’ll be whatever you need.”

“Baby, you already are what I need.” And she was. He slanted his lips over hers, starting the kiss out at a slow pace, reveling in how she unraveled him. He’d just cranked up the intensity when he heard the ping of the elevator doors.

That ripped him out of the moment. “What the hell?” No one breached his inner sanctum.

“Maybe there’s an emergency at the dojo.” Amery was looking over her shoulder, and the movement caused the gap in her robe to widen.

Momentarily distracted by the sight of her taut nipple, he glanced up when Amery stiffened. Then his gaze followed hers to the woman standing in the entrance to the living room.

“Mother? What are you doing here?”

At the word mother , Amery scooted off his lap so quickly she nearly fell.

His mother answered in Japanese and crossed the room.

Protocol demanded he stand. He met his mother halfway. After pressing his cheek to hers, he offered her a slight bow. “What a surprise.”

“Not an unpleasant surprise, I hope.”

“Never.”

She laid her hand on his cheek, and her eyes scrutinized every inch of his face. “Ronin-san. You look wonderful.”

“As do you, Okasan.” At age sixty-three, his mother was still an attractive woman.

“Who let you up here?”

“Your sister. Her greeting was less . . . enthusiastic than yours.”

“Is everything okay? You never—”

“Everything is fine with me and your grandfather.”

“So would you like to sit?” And tell me why the hell you’re here?

“In a bit. I’d like a tour of your home first.”

Amery secured the robe. “I’ll just ah, go . . . get dressed.”

Ronin tugged her to his side. “Amery, this is my mother, Tamara Okada. Okasan, this is my”—everything—“Amery.”

Amery acted unsure on whether she should offer her hand, but she clasped his mother’s when she offered it. “It’s a pleasure.”

“For me as well.”

Before Amery fled, Ronin kissed her temple.

He led his mother to the elevator and eyed her outfit. Some flowing silk thing and a pair of ankle-breaking heels. “We’ll start on the roof. Should I get you a jacket? It’s chilly up here.”

“I will be fine.”

They ducked inside the bubble, and she wandered from poolside to garden side. “I imagine this is lovely in the summer months.”

“The view is great too.”

She perched on the end of a chaise and gestured for him to sit across from her.

“So why the impromptu visit?” In the fourteen years he’d lived in the United States, his mother hadn’t visited. It hadn’t seemed like a big deal because he saw her at least once a year in Japan, and she was so busy traveling with his grandfather, she preferred to stay home in her down time.

“Both of my children are here. Plus I was worried.” She remained perfectly still, her hands clasped in her lap. “I’ll get right to it. You never talk about this kind of thing with me, but Shiori indicated that you went back into the ring after Amery ended your relationship and you ended up injured? On multiple occasions?”

Rather than confess the extent of his injuries because his mother would have a mini meltdown that he hadn’t told her, he countered with, “Did she tell you why Amery broke it off? It was Shiori’s fault.” He sounded like a petulant kid.

“Yes, she summarized the situation, but I do agree with your sister on this. You should’ve told Amery about your family connection.”

Ronin opened his mouth, and she did the one-finger silencing action he remembered from his childhood.

“You’ve chosen a different path. Your grandfather never believed you’d stay on it. I knew you wouldn’t deviate. That’s what defines a family—accepting those divergent paths in those we care about. Your grandfather and I both worried when we hadn’t heard from you personally in weeks . . . I came to check on you.”

He thought back to the ugly scene with Amery’s parents. Their accusations, ultimatums, and embarrassment about the path Amery had taken. He’d watched her crumble after swearing it didn’t matter. But that kind of rejection is hard, no matter how old you get.

Then he had a pang of awareness—had he done the same thing to his family? Rejected them because he believed they wouldn’t understand his life choices?

Sobering thought.

“Ronin-san?”

He smiled at her and the only term of endearment she ever used. “How is Grandfather?”

“Old.” She ran her hand through her hair. “I’ve never said that about him because he’s always seemed so invincible. But he’s had some health issues in the last year. Which doesn’t sit well with him.”

“And you are bearing the brunt of that?”

She shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

“Why didn’t you ever remarry? Then you wouldn’t have to be at your father’s command.”

“He doesn’t command me.” She sounded affronted. Then she sighed. “I wondered if you’d ever ask me about this.”

Ronin waited.

“None of the men in my social circle hold a candle to your father. He was an electric charge; other men were dim bulbs. My father kept trying to fix me up because he didn’t want me to spend my life without a companion like he had.”

“But I thought Grandfather was mad that you eloped.”

She frowned. “He was upset because he couldn’t give me a proper society wedding. I eloped because I couldn’t imagine my life without your father. And after he died, your grandfather understood what I was going through and he begged me to return to Japan.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“How could you have? You were eight. I grieved. I grieved to the point I couldn’t care for you or your sister. He had to step in.” She squinted at him. “Don’t you remember him working with you on your Japanese language issues?”

An image jumped into Ronin’s head of sitting at the table with paper and pens, Shiori curled up in their grandfather’s lap while he patiently drilled Ronin on reading and writing. “I’d forgotten that.”

“I’m not trying to paint Nureki Okada as a saint. But he’s not a villain either.” She smiled softly. “Well, not all days.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

She stood. “Because you, your sister, and I need to discuss some family things.”