Intimate Betrayal (31 page)

He began to laugh, a slow laughter that built in volume and speed until tears welled in his eyes and fell unchecked across the light stubble on his cheeks.

Who could he turn to? He had no one. The woman he'd loved for so long was still obsessed by a dead man. His daughter, if she really was his daughter, wanted to have
nothing to do with him. The Air Force was only days away from requesting his resignation. And what would become of him when they found out about Hamilton Delaware? His actions would never be sanctioned.

He covered his face with his hands as his shoulders heaved and shuddered with his silent tears.

Then an idea slowly began to take shape in his mind. His head came up, his green eyes sparkled. Yes, there was a way, he thought. A fragile sense of hope buoying his spirit. He hadn't accessed those files in years. But his codes were probably still active. Yes, it could work. He sat up straighter. Timing was essential. He had less than two days to save his life.

Tokyo

Maxwell steadily paced the carpeted floor as he listened to Reese describe her visit with Sukihara. If he'd been asked, at that moment, how he felt, there would have been no way he could have described the sensation that ran rampant within him.

It seemed as if a dark cloud had somehow engulfed him, taking away his light. Never before had he experienced such absolute emptiness. Even if he tried to deny what Reese said, he knew deep in his soul that she spoke the truth. His mother was alive. His father had lied to him all of his life. His mother denied his existence. Each fact repeated itself, reverberating in his head like a maniacal mantra. The hard knot that lodged in his throat pounded with a life of its own. He could feel the muscles of his heart constricting, threatening to explode from the pain.

Reese was struck by the outward calm that Max exuded. She knew that her revelations were emotionally devastating. Yet, he appeared as though he were listening to the weather
report. The only clue to the emotions that raged within him was the darkening of his obsidian eyes and the slight flare of his nostrils.

“Is that all?” he asked in a hollow monotone. He turned to look at her, and for the first time Reese saw his eyes glisten with tears that he refused to shed. Her heart slammed against her chest, as a cry of despair rose to her throat and froze.

With slow, measured steps she came to him, her heart aching for him with every footfall. Their eyes met in an embrace of total understanding. She slipped her arms around his waist and tenderly pressed her head against his chest.

Maxwell's arms hung loosely at his sides. He shut his eyes and tilted his head toward the ceiling, taking silent shallow breaths. Unbidden, a shudder threaded through him and Reese pressed her warmth closer.

“It's all right,” she whispered. “I'm here for you, Max. It's all right.”

Unseen by Reese a single tear slid down his cheek in silent answer to the ones that flowed from hers.

 

Sukihara had sat unmoving in her room since the impromptu visit by Reese. For the past few hours she tried to figure a way out of her dilemma. Her only choice was to keep the truth from Murayama. But how?

Finally, she rose from her spot by the window. Wearily she rubbed her hand across her face. Deep in her heart she knew what the right thing was. But was she strong enough to choose it?

The life that she'd lived for more than thirty years was not the type of life that prepared you to do or be anything more than what she was—a geisha. She was still considered beautiful. But who, other than Murayama, would want her outside of “this life”? As it stood, their decades-old liaison
was never discussed and most outside of the house considered it only a rumor.

She knew she could not delay the inevitable. Sooner rather than later she would have to come to terms with her fate.

 

Chris rang the doorbell and was met by a melancholy Reese.

“Did something happen?” he asked, his eyes darting from her to the interior of the suite. He crossed the threshold.

“I think he needs to talk,” she said softly, indicating a reclining Maxwell with a tilt of her head. Unobtrusively she left the room.

Chris took off his jacket and dropped it on the chair by the door. Thoughtfully he approached Maxwell who seemed oblivious to his presence. But Chris knew better. Maxwell was always totally alert to everything in his space. Chris sat on the love seat, stretching his long denim-clad legs out in front of him. His thigh muscles bunched and rippled beneath the fabric.

“Let's talk about it, my
kyodai.
”

Hearing the endearing Japanese term for
brother,
Maxwell was immediately reminded that what he and Chris shared was as strong if not stronger than any blood ties called family.

Slowly he lowered his lids, rose and his dark gaze met Chris's light one. He nodded, and like a cup overflowing, he poured out his story.

 

“You know at some point you're going to have to confront her. You have to confront her so that you can regain your inner peace and bring closure to this.”

“I know. I plan to before we return to the States.”

Chris reached across the space that separated them and heartily slapped Maxwell's rock-hard thigh.

A shadow of a smile flickered around Maxwell's mouth.
He gently rubbed the tip of his finger across the small scar on his eyebrow.
“Arigato gozaimashita, kyodai.”

“No thanks are necessary,
kyodai.
” Chris smiled then blew out a long breath and stood. “Have you heard from Larry Templeton?”

“As a matter of fact he called this morning. I told him to forget about coming here. Everything is under control.”

“Cool. But listen, will Reese be all right today? I have practice this afternoon for about three hours, maybe longer.”

“No problem.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “I plan to…” The ringing phone cut him off. “Excuse me.” He crossed the room and picked up the phone that rested on a white marble and gold stand.

“Kon'nichiwa,”
he said into the mouthpiece. “Yes, of course. Three o'clock will be fine with me.
Arigato gozaimashita.
”

He turned toward Chris, his dark almond-shaped eyes sparkling. “Things are happening faster than I expected.”

“What things?” Reese asked entering the room and the conversation.

“That was Tasaka's secretary. He wants to meet with me today to close the deal.”

Reese's amber eyes widened in delight. “Fantastic. That was quick.”

“Tasaka must be getting old,” Chris chuckled. “He's been notorious for dragging out negotiations to the limit. Or maybe he saw today's paper. Have either of you checked it out?”

They both shook their heads.

Chris retraced his steps to where he'd put his coat and extracted the paper.

Maxwell took it and read as he paced. His eyes raced over the article.

“Well, what does it say?” Reese asked, seeing that it was in Japanese.

Maxwell let out a sigh. “It seems as though the heat is on.” He explained what was in the article.

“Whew. But I still don't see why this would push Tasaka into signing.”

A slight shift of eyes passed between Maxwell and Chris. But not so slight that Reese didn't catch it.

“What?” she demanded. “I know there's something you're not telling me.”

Maxwell swallowed. He knew that revealing this information could be potentially hazardous to his company if the information was leaked. Rapidly he tossed around the veracity of telling her. He did trust her. And he knew that she would never betray that trust.

“Sit down for a minute Reese.” He put his hand on her shoulder and ushered her to a seat in the living room.

Walking the short distance she kept looking at him over her shoulder, trying to get a clue, to no avail.

Maxwell pulled up a chair and sat, leaning forward, bracing his arms on his thighs. “I haven't discussed this with you because it's very sensitive. If word of it got out before the right time it could be financially crippling for M.K. Enterprises.” He paused a beat. “In ten days, the company is going public. We plan to hit the NYSE and NIKKEI simultaneously. A partnership between myself and Tasaka guarantees him twenty percent of the shares. He knows they will skyrocket because of the potential dollars arising out of the computer fraud. Not a word of this can be written anywhere until after the fact. The Federal Trade Commission doesn't take too kindly to inside trading.”

Reese swallowed, digesting the implications. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. I won't breathe a word.”

“I know,” he said with a smile. He patted her knee and
stood. “Now, if you two will excuse me, I want to pull my papers together for this meeting.”

“I'm cutting out anyway,” Chris announced, slipping into his coat. He gave Reese a light peck on the cheek, saluted Maxwell and headed out.

Reese angled her head in Maxwell's direction. “I'll work out here. I need to put in some major time on this article. So go ahead and do what you have to do.”

Her low, throaty voice vibrated through him. What he really wanted to do was take her in the bedroom with him. Her casual cream knit top that subtly defined her breasts and the matching Lycra pants that outlined every nook and cranny of her lower body was enough to give him hot flashes. But he knew once they got started, they would never get anything done. So instead, he gave her a wink and set about his work.

 

The night lights of downtown Tokyo punctuated the sky with a multitude of vibrant colors. Bone weary, but mentally charged after three hours of talks with Tasaka and his associates, Maxwell was determined to make one last stop before returning to the hotel.

“Drop me off at Tasaka House, Daisuke, please. Then you can call it a night. I'll get a cab back to the hotel.”

M
axwell stood with his back to the door staring out onto the deck, watching the early-evening strollers meander along the walkway. What would he say? His stop here had been totally impromptu, and he had not had the opportunity to really think through his actions. He was running on pure emotion: anger, a sense of betrayal and a need to find out from his mother if he was ever loved.

“Knight-san,” came the soft voice from behind him.

Maxwell spun around and eyes so much like his own connected and held. His insides tightened with anxiety then did a slow somersault before settling down. He bowed low. “Tasaka-san. Pardon me for just dropping in, but I needed to speak with you.”

Sukihara's heart beat an almost unnatural rhythm as she gazed, once again, upon her son. Every fiber of her being warned her to avoid this moment, to make an excuse to
Honniko why she could not see him. But a power greater than rationale gripped her: a mother's undying love.

A part of her wanted him to leave and never come back so that she could return to the life she'd always known. But that other part of her knew that from this moment on, her life would never be the same again.

Ethereally she glided into the room, a tentative smile trembling around her rich red mouth. “Why don't we sit down, Knight-san. I'll send for some tea.”

“I prefer to stand,” he said in flawless Japanese. “And tea is not necessary. Thank you.”

Sukihara hid her shock and pride behind a noncommittal mask. “As you wish.” She, however, took a seat on the low bronze brocade couch. “How may I help you?”

“Perhaps with the truth,” he began, his voice low and even, his gaze steady. “I'd like to know about you and my father. I'd like to know why I was told all of these years that you were dead. I'd like to know why you didn't want me.”

“I think you are mistaken Knight-san. Why would I know these things you speak of?”

“All I want is the truth. Do you have any idea what life has been like for me, never knowing on what side of the fence I should stand, never fitting in the black world or the Japanese, always feeling that there was part of me that was missing? I think I deserve to know.”

Suki rose and turned away, her conscience doing battle within her. To admit to the truth would ruin her; and would it really help him to know that she'd chosen a way of life over her own flesh and blood?

Slowly she turned back around and faced him and when she did she faced herself. She began in a low, halting voice as she took him back with her to where it all began. Nearly an hour later Suki concluded her story.

“This is all I have…my son. I know you may never forgive
me for the choice that I made, but at eighteen I believed there was no other way. Your father was already married. What was I to do?” She reached out to touch him, but halted, unsure of his reaction. “All I ever wanted for you was the best of everything. That would have never happened here. You have grown and prospered well.”

He thought he would somehow feel better to finally hear her admit that she was his mother, that she'd given him up to pursue her life. But he didn't. All he felt was a different degree of loneliness.

“I know you may not think much of me, or the choices that I made. But…I…did it because…I loved you, Mioki.”

Maxwell's head snapped in her direction.

“Yes, that was the name I'd given you when you were born.”

Maxwell felt as if a dam had burst. Slowly the missing pieces of his life slipped into place like a Rubik's cube.

“Mother,” he uttered in a ragged whisper.

“Son.” She stretched her arms out to him and he walked into her embrace.

Inch by inch he felt the void begin to fill and he let himself become engulfed in its comforting warmth.

Sukihara was the first to break the tenuous contact. A soft smile lighted her lips. “I'm glad you came, Mioki. A great burden has been lifted from my spirit.” She bent her head and slipped her hand inside her pocket, extracting a small, worn black-and-white photo. Almost reverently she handed it to him.

Maxwell stared down at the photo of his mother looking adoringly up at his father.

“I want you to have it so that you will always know that you were born out of a great love.” She took a deep breath. “I need you to know this, because I must ask you a great favor.”

Maxwell tore his gaze away from the photo and looked down into his mother's dark eyes. “Ask me.”

“I must ask that you not…reveal our relationship.”

Maxwell felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach, all of the wind gushed out of him at once, but he did not speak. He couldn't.

“Murayama would never…”

“Please, don't say any more.” Maxwell turned way and picked up his overcoat from the chair. His jaw flexed as he turned dark, dangerous eyes on her. “I suppose the lies will never end, will they…Mother?” With that he brushed past her and strode out the door, still clutching the photo in his fist.

 

“Oh, Max, I'm so sorry,” Reese uttered, his pain reflected in her voice.

He turned away from her touch as if burned. “It doesn't matter,” he responded in a deadly calm. “I found out what I wanted to know.” He flashed her an unreadable look. “Thank you for all of your help. We're leaving on the next flight out. My business here is finished.”

“Max. Don't do this.”

“Don't do what?” he boomed, his voice jettisoning out of the monotone he'd maintained for the past hour.

“Blame me, because that's what you're doing.”

“Your instincts are all wrong, Ms. Delaware.” He spun away and strode off into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Reese shut her eyes and tilted her head toward the ceiling. “We'll get past this,” she whispered. “We will.”

Releasing a weary breath, she opened her eyes, letting them sweep the room. Automatically she picked up Maxwell's overcoat to hang it up when she saw the tip of a photograph peeking out from his inside breast pocket. Sure that it must
be the same photo he'd told her about, she pulled it out and stared at the unmistakable face of the man she'd seen the night before her parents were killed.

That night, in horrific clarity, the final pieces fell unrelentingly into place.