Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sierra
The dinner is fancy, served by a lady in a kimono. The wooden platform-looking serving plate has only ten nigiri pieces, but that’s perfect. I’m not overly hungry because of our late brunch.
Griffin checks the time as we finish up. “Excellent. Our driver should be waiting for us.”
“We have a driver? I thought we were taking taxis. I read they’re pretty fancy.”
“The concierge arranged it for us. If you want to try a Japanese taxi, we can do that too. But not today.”
Okay, my curiosity is definitely piqued. We’re both dressed fairly casually, but our ride is anything but. Where are we going? I can’t get any clues from Griffin’s impassive face, and I have a feeling he isn’t going to tell.
In the lobby, a uniformed doorman bows as the huge glass doors slide open automatically. A gorgeous white limo is idling outside, along with a few other gleaming cars. Bellhops take suitcases as several sharply dressed Japanese men enter the hotel, their temples gray, their faces set in odd expressions somewhere between stoic and grim.
Man. They don’t know how good they have it. If I got to live in Tokyo, I’d tap-dance to work every day.
Griffin leads me to the ivory limo.
“Oh my God, that’s our ride?” I say, trying to sound cool and failing. It isn’t my first time riding a limo, but it feels so extravagant, especially after the first-class flight, the stunning suite and the lavish soak and massage. I’ve never splurged like this, not even on my honeymoon.
“Yup. Told you the concierge arranged for everything.”
“But a limo?”
“Why not?” He shrugs like it’s nothing.
A driver in a black suit and hat opens the door, his hands in snow-white gloves.
It’s so formal. I feel like I should do whatever the Japanese version of a curtsy is. Then the driver adds to the formality by bowing.
Griffin says something to the man in Japanese and they have a short exchange.
I stare. Griffin speaks Japanese, well enough to communicate with our driver. That’s so hot. My libido is surging, and I have a crazy impulse to kiss him again.
Come on, Sierra. Control yourself. He isn’t interested in you that way.
I wince inwardly at the brutal voice in my head, which somehow sounds like Todd, then slap it down. The old negativity from my ex-husband isn’t going to mess things up. Plenty of men find me interesting.
Besides, I noticed Griffin checking out my ass as we left the sushi restaurant. He’s probably just being a gentleman.
The limo moves in a stately way through the traffic. There are tons of cars and buses crawling along incredibly narrow lanes on busy streets. All the vehicles gleam like they’ve just been washed. But what’s most fascinating is the massive number of pedestrians on the sidewalks.
There are cyclists too, but not like the ones you see in L.A. They aren’t wearing helmets or fancy cycling outfits. They’re in regular street clothes and riding bikes with baskets in front for their bags or other belongings. A few are on basket-less bikes, but they either have back packs, or their bags are dangling from the handlebars.
“Don’t your eyes get dry when you keep them wide open like that for so long?” Griffin says.
“Nope. I’m not going to miss a thing. I’ve never been this fascinated.” I turn to him with a huge smile. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh. “What? You have something even more amazing scheduled than the trip and the massage and this limo ride through the city?”
A corner of his gorgeous mouth tilts upward. “Yup.”
“Like?”
“Oh, you’ll see.”