A/N:
I own nothing, nor do I ever intend to. I'm just giving life to some fangirl fantasies.
Chapter Two:
He really should stop judging people by first impressions. He was usually wrong. Asami wasn't just a stone cold, heartless bastard concerned with only money. He had his own honor code that he adhered to strictly. Kirishima was not a wuss in a fight, despite how he looked in glasses. Plus he had a really hot wife. Takato, though blonde, was not a dumb blonde. That was Kou, contrary to his dark hair. Suoh had a sense of humor once you got him away from Asami.
And Kirishima Saho––Urara Saho at work–– was not the airheaded bimbo Akihito first thought she was. She had a knack for asking uncomfortable questions that the photographer had never deigned to think about.
"Suoh will send someone to pick you up when you are finished," Asami straightened his jacket as the limo smoothly meandered through downtown traffic. "Just have Saho text Kirishima."
"Why can't I take the bus?" Akihito tilted his head to the side, hazel eyes meeting gold. "It will be quicker."
"I will not have you wandering the streets at night alone," Asami undid the button on his suit jacket. Akihito had helped him get redressed after a round of limo sex, which is why he was looking worse for the wear. Asami was pristine as ever, but apparently suits were not to be buttoned while sitting.
"How long could it possibly take?" Akihito leaned to the seat, his hands cupping the back of his head nonchalantly. "I am sure you have it all planned out. She just wants me to give it the stamp of approval." It would be a quick meeting, in and out, leaving the rest of his day wide open.
"Actually," Asami smirked as his kitten's face scrunched up. "Saho knows my tastes extraordinarily well. She can make decisions for me. She wants your input today. And every other meeting. You will be planning this wedding with her."
Akihito paled. "No fucking way!" he groaned, his open mouth swinging in tandem with the car's turns. "I don't want to plan anything!"
"Saho is adamant that you participate," the yakuza chuckled dryly. "It is going to be the event of the century."
"It's your wedding!" he protested again. "Your idea. I'm just along for the ride!" No way. No way was he giving up any of his limited free time to plan some stupid ceremony that he would not remember. If he had his way, it would be a quick exchange of vows and some cake.
"It's your wedding too, kitten," drawled Asami. "It is only natural that the bride help plan it…"
"I am not your damn bride!" Akihito shouted, though his cheeks turned a rosy pink. "I am a man, not a woman!"
"Asami-sama," Suoh rolled down the privacy screen. "We are here,"
It was unusual to see someone besides Suoh in the driver's seat. Today, the incredible hulk sat in the passenger's seat, while a nameless goon chauffeured them around. It always freaked Akihito out to see people other than Suoh and Kirishima with Asami. Their protection always seemed more official, more secure than the nameless drones that Asami employed. But, he supposed that even faithful body guards had to have days off. They probably worked on days that Asami did not, come to think about it.
"Be nice to Saho," said crime lord pressed a kiss to the photographer's soft, pink lips. "She can be mean to hissing kittens when they misbehave," it was both a warning and a taunt. Stupid ass.
"I can handle you," Akihito pushed away from Asami's grabby hands. He ducked his head so Asami would not see him blush when the heavy hand squeezed his rump. Hard. "A pregnant lady will be a piece of cake."
Asami chuckled. "Behave, kitten. Kirishima will grouse if Saho complains."
"Yeah, yeah," Akihito waved over his shoulder as Suoh opened the door. If Kirishima was pissy, there was nothing he could do to fix it. Kirishima Saho's office was in the heart of Shinjuku, at the top of one of the countless skyscrapers. Another body guard opened the door and Suoh escorted him inside. Akihito felt like he was being passed off from one handler to another, like some prized show pony. He growled in indignation.
"Takaba Akihito?" a redhead woman greeted him the moment he walked the lobby of the high rise building. She was dressed in tight fitting black skirt with a white, ruffled blouse tucked into her skirt. Suoh arched an eyebrow as she collected him, and Akihito saw two of Asami's goons check out her pert butt when she turned around.
"Hi," he shook her head and startled slightly. She was much stronger than she looked.
"My name is Merav Tayeb. I am Saho's second assistant. She asked me to show you up to our offices."
He nodded. She turned away and did not check to see if he followed her. A nameless goon let out a wolf whistle, and he chuckled. Waving goodbye to Asami over his shoulder, because he knew his crimelord lover was watching, he stepped into the artfully painted elevator.
"Top floor," she crisply addressed the elevator boy. The building had an elevator boy who did nothing but escort people up and down all day. That had to be one of the most boring jobs in the history of the world.
The boy, he looked about fifteen, turned a cherry red and quickly bobbed his head. A moment later, the metal box was rapidly climbing the skyscraper. Merav said nothing until the doors chimed open. "This way, please," she gestured to the marble floored room.
As expected, the entire office was modern, full of stark colors and crisp lines. He walked past the bubbling water feature and the half moon receptionist desk where a tawny haired man with thick rimmed glasses leaned over the shoulder of a rotund, middle aged woman. She flushed when he whispered something in his ear. Dark eyes flicked up to watch Merav strut by. She seemed to know that the man could n take his eyes off of her, and Akihito suddenly appreciated working with all men.
Girls just made things confusing.
"Do you do lots of parties?" Akihito asked, trying to strike up some kind of conversation. Merav was a strange woman, most certainly foreign because her words were laced with a heavy accent. She was dark and bold, something that was not native to Japan.
The entire office was stark: a crisp orange accented by dark browns and whites. It was a minimalist transition into autumn, and he wondered how frequently Kirishima Saho redid her decor. Behind the water feature and pond were accent walls, paintings worth millions, and overpriced but comfy furniture. Akihito already had a dozen images in his mind that would showcase the interior. He would kill to shoot some promotional shots for Urara Saho.
"Yes," she answered. "Up to one hundred a year."
Holy crap. That was a ton. That was two or three a week. He was exhausted after Friday nights going crazy with Kou and Takato. The photographer could not image doing it multiple times a week. His liver could not handle it.
She seemed to sense that he wanted to hear more about the business, and she obliged him. "We do birthday parties, luncheons, grand openings, business parties––anything you can want someone to plan. Saho goes to most of them, especially if it is a repeat client or an event that we have invested substantially in.
"Each event has its own binder, which holds everything that pertains to that event. They are organized by name, and chronological order for repeat clients, like Asami," Merav led the way past the rooms of shelves, her deep voice lilting with an accent. Akihito tried to keep his jaw from dragging on the floor as they walked by. It looked like a freaking library!
"H–how many parties has Asami had?" he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
"He has his own cabinet," the woman shrugged. "Saho has been doing his parties since they met, and that was nine years ago."
She really did know Asami well, then. His fiance was not kidding just to piss him off. The photographer tried not to be jealous that they were obviously close, and that Asami had never mentioned it. Because Aki had friends too––like Takato and Kou. Takato was married, but he never told Asami that. Same thing, right?
"So how do you get away with calling your boss by her first name?" He had to lengthen his stride to keep up with the Amazon. "All of mine frown on that kinda thing,"
"Saho is an intimate person who thrives on familiarity," Merav shrugged. "Also, I am Israeli. We do not speak so formally in my country." She opened a door that was part of a glass wall. Inside was a conference room, with a long, European style table. Instead of having hard, plastic chairs, chaise lounges and sofas surrounded the table. It looked warm and inviting, especially with the panoramic view of Shinjuku.
"Oh." Now he knew why her name was weird.
"Yes, now sit." The redhead pulled out an oversized chair. "Can I get you anything? Food? A drink?"
"No, but thanks," he slowly sat in the plush chair, careful to stay out of her reach. Though Merav had smile politely and kept up the pleasant chitchat, Akihito felt the same powerful tension radiating off her that he associated with Suoh. With the Israeli woman, it was an undercurrent and not an attitude, but Akihito still thought she might suddenly snap his neck.
"Saho will send for food several times," Merav poured him a glass anyway. "She still has the strangest cravings."
"My mom put chocolate on her noodles when she was pregnant with me," he volunteered just to keep the awkward silence at bay. "I remember her saying that my dad used to gripe about it."
"Yesterday, it was deep fried pickles smothered in sour cream."
Ew. Thankfully, he did not lose his lunch and Merav had no obligation to keep him entertained. There was a muffled clacking, like heels on the hard wood, and then the glass doors were opened by a skinny man with tawny hair. He nodded to Merav as the ever pregnant Kirishima Saho bounced it.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," she said in lieu of a greeting. Sitting a thin binder on the table, she plopped down on the chair beside his. "My ultrasound took longer than expected."
Merav's face lit up, and Akihito knew that she was dying to see the pictures. "It's okay," he shrugged. It was not like he could be upset that she was taking care of her baby. Besides, Asami had cleared his schedule for the entire day. The thin binder gave him hope that he would be out of there in an hour so that he could play video games for the rest of the day.
"Has Ryuichi told you what is going to happen?" she asked as her assistants began to lay books and folders on the table. There seemed to be a definitive order, and as he looked at the increasing thickness of the, Akihito could not help but feel a little worried.
"He said that you wanted my opinion because you know his tastes."
"We are going to plan your dream wedding, kid." Pale, thin fingers opened up his black binder. It was empty, but there were labeled tabs. "This is going to be our life for the time being. It will hold every single thing about your wedding: budget, flowers, seating arrangement, receipts––you name it. It all lives here.
"And this––the official copy––lives with me. You will have your own copy, which is given to you the day after every meetings. You can make your notes and requests in that one, so we can discuss them at our next meeting. Both books will always be completely current that way."
"What if I want something impossible?" It would never happen, the photographer was far too practical for that, but the photographer wanted to know how far he could push her.
"It is my job to make your dreams comet rues," Saho absentmindedly patted his hand. "It will happen."
The line was corny but it rolled out of her mouth so easily that he wondered how often she was asked that. Her clients must have thought themselves unique and fantastically extravagant. She probably got strange demands all the time. Unless he wanted the dead there, or a pumpkin carriage pulled by mice, he would get it. "Cool," because that was the only appropriate response.
"Ryuichi will also receive a copy with the same regularity as you, for him to make any notes." Saho kept talking, "We will meet at least once a week, but we aren't limited to that. I have some clients who want to meet every other day. Any questions so far?"
Nope. Not a one.
"Today is just to give you an idea of how we do things, and to clue me in on what your dream wedding actually is. We can hammer out the specifics as we go along." The woman talked a lot using her hands, he noticed. Every sentence had an accompanying gesture.
Akihito kept nodding. It still was looking like a short meeting. "That sounds good to me."
Saho gave him a bright smile. "So walk me through your dream wedding," she encouraged him. Merav handed her a hot pink tablet case, complete with blinged out tablet pen. Saho flipped it open, and held the soft-nose pen just about the screen, ready to scribe his every whim.
He had to swallow before he could speak. "Well," he curled his hands into fists as he tried to describe something he had never contemplated, let alone plan. "I guess I'll be there. Asami, too. We will exchange vows, and rings. The rings are important to Asami, so we have to have them." He watched Saho make a note of that. Then her pen stilled, poised and ready to record his dreams. "After that, we will eat cake."
Plain and simple, get it done and over with so they could eat.
Saho glanced at her assistants who both shrugged. She tapped the end of her pend against the iPad thoughtfully. "That was a good dry run," she said after a moment. "Let's go though it again, from the top with a little more detail."
"That's all I got,"
"Please say you're kidding," she sighed.
"Nope," the twenty-four year old shook his head. As long as Asami ate a piece of cake, Akihito was good. He would make that bastard like sweets if it was the "last thing he ever did.
"So you don't want a hundred white doves to be released when you walk down the aisle? Or maybe tuxes hand designed by Elie Saab?"
"No! What's so hard for you to understand? It should be a simple, quick and cheap," Akihito cried. "Plus rings and cake!"
A pointy black nail was thrust under his nose. "Don't you ever say cheap to me again," Saho said slowly. "Hibiki," she glanced at the man, "Make a reservation at Guillermo's for eight-thirty and then call Kei. Tell him I lost the bet."
Akihito balked when he realized that the couple had bet on his tastes. A scorching insult was tumbling out from behind his teeth when Saho dropped the tablet pen and collapsed back into the chair. "Oh my God. This is going to be so much harder than I originally thought," she moaned while rubbing her temples. "That asshole played me."
"So you see that side of Asami, too?" Akihito's voice pitched in excitement. He crossed his arms, and tried to quench the annoyance that frothed in his stomach with happiness that someone else saw the yakuza for what he was. The photographer pretended that he did not like being the only one who knew him so well.
"Not Ryuichi, my stupid husband. We made a bet, and he played me like a fool." She too crossed her arms. "Merav, I need something deep friend and covered with chocolate."
The redhead Israeli woman immediately stood. "Do you want anything, Akihito?"
He nodded. "I'll have whatever she is having."
"Good choice," Hibiki grinned. "Can you bring me a salted caramel mocha, beautiful?"
The woman flipped her partner off. "Don't woo me, ass."
"No swearing in front of the baby!" Saho looked between the two of them. As Merav walked out the door, her hips swinging, Saho turned back to Akihito. "It is always such a pleasure to work with these two."
He chuckled. It was better not to mention that she just called her husband an asshole. Apparently, she was the only one exempt from the no swearing rule. "Sorry that I'm not being so helpful. At least, I'm not picky," Akihito shrugged sheepishly.
"Picky is easy," Saho grabbed a thick magazine filled with flower arrangements and flipped through it. "Picky means specific and specific gives me something to deliver. Uncertainty gives me nothing to work with."
He flushed. Oops.
"It's okay, sweetie. We will start simple: when do you want to get married?" she clicked her pen again.
Akihito licked his lips. That was easy, "In the afternoon." That way, he could sleep in. Undoubtedly, Asami would be particularly voracious the nearer the wedding drew, and he would keep Aki up late into the night. If he did not want black bags under his eyes, he needed all the sleep he could get.
The tawny haired man––Hibiki snickered. Saho glared at him, but he did not seem overly concerned. "That's good but I was asking more about a day or a month."
Oh. "Within the year," he looked at the assistant, daring him to laugh again. He was not making this easy, Akihito knew that. But the photographer truly did not know what he wanted. He figured Asami would plan it all, and all he would have to do was show up. Boy was he wrong.
"Sooner or later?" Saho kept pressing him for information.
"Later. My family may take a little while to convince." Especially considering how they did not know Asami was his boyfriend, and not just a friend.
"I understand completely," Saho made an actual note on the iPad document. "So next spring?"
It was just under a year, but he liked the idea of getting married when the earth was raw as it underwent its rebirth. It would be a fresh start, and it seemed apropos. "Yes."
"Do you know where you want to get married?" the pen scratched on.
"What do you mean? Like, a garden or in the penthouse?" He was quickly learning to be specific when it came to Kirishima Saho. She seemed to ask ambiguous questions but wanted a specific answer. Akihito was not going to let Hibiki laugh at him again.
"Do you want a marriage or an adoption? Gay marriage isn't legal here, so we would have to do it outside of the country for it to be legally binding. Or you could have a commitment ceremony in Japan, and Ryuichi could legally adopt you."
Asami would want both because he was a possessive asshole. On the other hand, Akihito had no idea what he wanted. Not once had he ever thought about it. He was giving up his independence, his family and his––holy fuck! He would be taking Asami's surname.
"Talk to Ryuichi, and get back to me," Saho prattled right through his epiphany. "A lot of the planning hinges around that. We can't choose a ceremony space until you decide, and you know how many people you can invite. Obviously flowers, invitations, and decorations are also dependent on that.
"Another thing to think about is your name," she finally stopped talking to look at him.
"Huh?" Akihito could barely process all that he had heard.
"When the officiate announces you after the ceremony, will you keep Takaba as your name, or adopt Asami? Or will Ryuichi start using Takaba?" At least she laughed a little when she asked the question. Saho was only being polite when she suggested they consider his surname as much as Asami's. It was ludicrous to actually contemplate, and if she had managed to keep a straight face, said photographer would have had a heart attack.
"He'll never––" he could not even finish the sentence.
Saho shrugged. "It is my job to make you consider all possibilities," she quipped. "No matter how ridiculous they sound."
"Like the bastard would ever consider taking my name," Akihito laughed uncomfortably. Takaba Ryuichi sounded like a mild mannered office clerk who sucked at golf on the weekends. Not a good image to conjure while controlling the East Asia underworld.
"It was just a suggestion," Saho said breezily. "No swearing in front of the baby. Do you want there to be a theme to your wedding? Hibiki," she cut him off before Akihito could answer. "Go see how far away Sabiko is. And get us some hot white tea with some cumin. It's Sabiko's favorite drink," she said to Akihito.
He pouted goodnaturedly as Hibiki quickly left to do her bidding. "You said no to the cheap theme."
"Cheap isn't a theme, it is a mark of bad taste," Saho pursed her lips. Apparently, hormonal pregnant ladies did not get jokes. "You can have sophistication at any budget."
His mouth dropped. Budget: a familiar and comforting word. It gave him hope again for the wedding. Maybe he could reign Asami in, and not have all this frivolous spendi––
"You do not have a budget, so there is no need to worry about cheap." Once again, Kirishima's wife shattered his dreams.
"I don't want to waste millions of yen on a wedding," the protest was feeble. Rich people never seemed to care about overspending.
"Oh, don't worry. I am not spending one yen more than I have to." People did no stay rich by foolish spending. "Just think of it as economy stimulation. You are going to help many people make their monthly and yearly sales goals, if nothing else."
"That is what I'm worried about," he grumbled.
"Don't be. Now, we will discuss tuxes, or whatever you are wearing after we pick a venue. And a country.
"You will have some homework: start brainstorming what kind of food you want. A buffet? A sit down dinner? What foods will be served? I don't need a definitive list any time soon, but just be thinking about it."
"Ramen," Aki pointed to her iPadiPad. "Write that down." He was adamant about that. "There will definitely be ramen. And pocky and ice cream. Oooh! And beer. Asami will want brandy, too."
Saho was nodding as she scribbled. "We should have started with food. You know some of what you want there."
He flushed and an impish grin danced across his cheeks. "What can I say? I liked to eat."
Saho winked. "I know what you mean. Now more than ever," she rubbed her belly.
Akihito chuckled. "When are you due?"
"In six weeks, so it won't interfere with your big day," she sighed.
"I didn't mean––" he stuttered.
The woman giggled. "I know. Honestly, she can't get here soon enough. I feel like a blimp, all stretched out and swollen."
"Saho," Hibiki poked his head in the door. "Your tea is almost finished brewing, and Sabiko has arrived."
"I really would rather it be my food. Find Merav," she muttered. "I suppose he in an acceptable second. Send him in."
"You don't send me anywhere, darling," a short man with a glowing bald spot pushed his way past Hibiki. "I arrive," he gestured grandly. The flamboyant man embraced Saho before kissing both of her cheeks and then grabbing her belly. "How are both of my girls?"
"We're doing well. She's almost here, thankfully. This is Takaba Akihito," she gestured to Akihito.
"Don't get up on my behalf," Sabiko pushed Saho back into her chair before embracing Akihito in the same familiar way. "Your fiance spoke very highly of you," he told Akihito.
He flushed. He was pretty sure that whatever Asami had said, it was not as flattering as Sabiko Hiroshi made it sound like. It was probably something possessive that would have made his blood boil. "Huh," he grunted.
"We designed you a lovely ring, Takaba-kun. One of my personal favorites, I must say." Akihito saw Saho roll her eyes, and he realized that the saccharine fat man must say that to all of his customers. "I understand that you want your rings to be part of a matched set."
"Yes," he nodded. "Not matchy matchy, but…" Akihito struggled to find the words.
"Coordinated," Saho supplied.
"Excellent," Sabiko nodded to Saho who looked like she was going to start taking more notes. "Tell me about some of the elements that you want to incorporate into Asami-san's ring. What is the story you are trying to tell?"
Saho smirked. She probably thought he was as clueless about the ring as he was the rest of the wedding. He certainly was not going to tell their story in their wedding bands. Though it was a good story, its tumultuous beginning was not something either wanted to relive every time they looked at their rings. Akihito preferred to tell who Asami Ryuichi was through his wedding band. And he did just that.
A/N:
Sorry it took so long to update. I work full time, and am studying for the GMAT. I have almost no free time. I hope you all enjoyed it, and I could not resist making you wait for the ring descriptions. There is going to be a bigger reveal for them!
