Billionaires in Tokyo: A Dom Vs. Domme Story by Cynthia Dane

Author:Cynthia Dane [Dane, Cynthia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Alpha Billionaire Romance
Publisher: Barachou Press
Published: 2017-03-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

IAN

I wake up again a couple hours later. I wish I hadn’t, because my headache is insane and my stomach feels like someone punched it a hundred times over.

I’m alone. What scares me more is that my senses return strong enough for me to recognize a hospital room. A private one, with some Japanese movie playing on a TV in the corner. A single vase of daisies is on my bedside, but other than that, the only personal touch to my current predicament is my bag of clothing on the bottom shelf of the closet.

Fuck me. What the hell happened?

I don’t have the strength to panic, but I have enough to push the call button for the nurse.

One shows up almost immediately. Petite, no makeup, her only interest in the world is apparently the fact that I’m awake. Naturally, she does not speak English, and even if I could speak Japanese, it’s not coming out of my muted mouth right now.

Since I’m not freaking the fuck out (externally, anyway,) she checks my vitals. She then says something in Japanese. I don’t care how soft-spoken and reassuring she sounds when I don’t know what she’s saying. When she leaves, she says, “Doctor.”

Five minutes later I’m greeted by a genial doctor who does the same round as the nurse accompanying him. The only difference, besides his gender, is the fact he can speak some English. “Good evening, Mr. Mathers,” he says. “Good to see you awake. I’m Dr. Iwamoto. I’m not your primary doctor who’s been treating you, but he isn’t here, nor does he speak English. So, you have to talk to me.”

“What…” That’s the only thing I can utter. My voice must sound like dust rolling across Death Valley, for the nurse brings over a cup of water and helps get the straw in my mouth. Sucking shouldn’t be this hard.

“Fish allergy.” The doctor goes through my chart while he speaks. “Says here you had a particularly nasty reaction to something you ate last night. Not food poisoning. If you had that on top of the allergic reaction, you’d probably be dead.”

Thanks, Doc. “I don’t…” The water is taking a long time to make things work in my mouth. “I don’t have fish allergies.” I’m allergic to very few foods, and the ones I am allergic to only cause mild intestinal distress. Nothing like this.

“You may have never had this fish before. Very rare. Very expensive. The man who brought you in said you went to one of the few places in the city you can get this fish.”

Still calling bullshit, because I’ve been rich enough my whole life to have the rarest shit wherever I go. Don’t even have to ask for it, like last night, but I guess it’s possible coincidence kept me away from this deadly stink. I did have sushi, didn’t I? Fuck.

“You’re going to be all right, Mr. Mathers. We want to keep you for a couple more days until you get your strength back and so we can observe you and make sure you don’t have a secondary reaction.

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