Claire stretched lazily, sinking deeper into the silky embrace of the California king size bed. She had never slept so well in her life. The sheets were cool against her skin, the mattress soft yet supportive—everything about this penthouse felt designed for pleasure.
She rolled onto her side, letting her fingers trail over the smooth fabric. The events of the previous night replayed in her mind, sending a shiver down her spine. Morgan had opened a door she never even knew existed, and now… now she wasn't sure she ever wanted to close it again.
After a few moments of pure indulgence, she finally pushed herself out of bed, slipping into the plush robe that had been left for her. The penthouse was even more breathtaking in the daylight, sunlight streaming in through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, casting golden hues over the luxurious furniture and priceless artwork.
She took her time exploring, admiring the way everything was arranged so perfectly, as if the space itself had been curated. She found a private study, a spa-like bathroom with a sunken tub, and a walk-in closet that looked like it had just been stocked with designer pieces just for her.
But when she wandered into what she assumed would be the kitchen, she stopped short.
There was no stove. No oven. Not even a microwave.
Claire frowned. No kitchen?
Sure, she had grown up in wealth, but even her parents' estates had kitchens, even if they rarely used them.
Shaking her head, she grabbed her phone and quickly typed out a message.
Claire: There's no kitchen?
Morgan's reply was almost instant.
Morgan: Why would there be?
Claire blinked at the screen.
Claire: To cook?
Morgan: Sweetheart, you don't cook in a place like this. You have food brought to you.
Claire sighed, shaking her head with a smirk. Of course, Morgan would say something like that.
Claire: So how am I supposed to eat?
Morgan: Check the door in ten minutes.
Claire frowned in confusion but did as Morgan said, taking a seat in the lavish living area while she waited. She had barely settled in when there was a knock at the door.
She hesitated for only a moment before opening it.
A sharply dressed man stood there, clad in a pristine white chef's uniform. His posture was perfect, his presence commanding yet refined.
"Ms. Claire?" he asked smoothly.
"Uh, yes?"
"I am Chef Laurent. Ms. Pierce has arranged for me to prepare your meals. I will be at your service for the remainder of your stay."
Claire's mouth nearly fell open. A private Michelin-starred chef?!
Laurent stepped inside without another word, wheeling in a sleek cart filled with fresh ingredients. He moved with practiced ease, setting up at what she now realized was a fully equipped but hidden prep station near the dining area.
She crossed her arms, watching in stunned silence as he swiftly began working, his knife slicing through ingredients with precise, almost hypnotic movements. The scent of fresh herbs, butter, and something rich and savory filled the space.
Morgan had sent her a chef.
Not just food.
Not just takeout from some exclusive restaurant.
An actual, personal, world-class chef!
Claire wasn't sure whether to be overwhelmed or turned on.
"Ms. Pierce has instructed me to prepare something light yet nourishing for you this morning," Laurent said without looking up. "I hope you enjoy seafood. I've prepared a crab and avocado omelet, served with a side of truffle-infused greens and freshly baked sourdough."
Claire's stomach growled at the description, her earlier concerns completely forgotten.
As she took a seat at the elegantly set dining table, watching as Laurent placed the beautifully plated dish before her, one thought ran through her mind.
This wasn't just a new life.
This was an entirely different world.
------
Morgan sat at the head of the long conference table, listening—or at least pretending to listen—to yet another tedious client droning on about contract disputes. Normally, she thrived in the art of negotiation, her sharp mind dissecting every legal loophole with precision.
But today?
Today, her thoughts were elsewhere.
She could still feel Claire's body against hers, still hear those soft, breathless moans. Claire had been intoxicating—eager, pliant, hers.
Morgan resisted the urge to smirk as she sipped her espresso, the dark liquid doing little to curb her growing hunger for something far more enticing than legal jargon.
Her phone buzzed on the sleek mahogany table. A message from Claire.
Claire: There's no kitchen?
Morgan chuckled softly, shaking her head. Of course, she would ask.
Morgan: Why would there be?
The back-and-forth amused her, but what truly entertained her was the thought of Claire's reaction when she realized exactly what Morgan had arranged.
A personal Michelin-starred chef.
Claire wouldn't know what to do with herself.
A sharp *ahem* from across the table pulled Morgan's attention back to the present. She arched a brow at her client, who had clearly noticed her distraction.
"Something amusing, Ms. Pierce?"
Morgan smiled, all charm and razor-sharp confidence. "Not at all, Mr. Calloway. Please, continue boring me to death."
A few associates stifled laughs, and the meeting resumed.
------
Hours later, as the sun dipped below the Manhattan skyline, Morgan finally finished her last meeting. She leaned back in her leather chair, rolling the tension from her shoulders.
Now for the real fun.
She picked up her phone and texted Claire.
Morgan: Pack a bag, sweetheart. Something elegant, something comfortable, and something you can take off easily.
Claire: Why? Where are we going?
Morgan: Tokyo.
A beat passed.
Claire: You mean… Little Tokyo?
Morgan smirked.
She didn't wait for a response. Instead, she forwarded instructions to her driver Vincent and made her way to the private airstrip where her jet awaited.
---
Claire's heart stopped.
Before she could even wrap her head around it, a sleek black car was already waiting outside the penthouse. The driver greeted her with the same quiet professionalism she was beginning to associate with Morgan's world.
Still in disbelief, she slid into the backseat. The ride was smooth, her thoughts anything but.
Her mind spun as the city lights blurred past.
When the car finally stopped, Claire looked up, expecting to see little Tokyo.
But instead, she was met with something far more exclusive.
A private jet.
Her breath hitched. Of course.
The driver opened the door for her, and Claire stepped out, heels clicking against the tarmac.
The jet was sleek, modern, and undeniably extravagant. And standing at the top of the stairs, waiting with an unreadable smirk, was Morgan. That's when it dawned on her that they were flying out to Tokyo, Japan.
The private jet touched down smoothly on the runway at Haneda Airport, the city lights of Tokyo glittering like a sea of stars in the distance.
Claire stretched, trying to shake off the stiffness from the long flight. Despite the luxury of the private jet, she had barely managed to sleep. Her mind had been racing the entire time, replaying the past twenty-four hours and wondering what exactly Morgan had planned for her in Japan.
She barely had time to take in the foreign sights and sounds before they were ushered into yet another impossibly sleek black limo. The driver greeted them in polite, flawless Japanese before pulling away from the airport.
Morgan sat beside her, completely at ease, as if this were just another business trip.
"Where are we going?" Claire asked, her voice still tinged with awe.
Morgan smirked, her fingers lightly trailing over Claire's knee. "You'll see."
---
The drive led them out of the bustling city and into the mountains. By the time they arrived at their destination, the full moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the traditional wooden inn nestled among the trees.
Claire stepped out of the limo, the cool night air wrapping around her as she took in the breathtaking sight before her—a private onsen tucked away in a secluded garden. Steam rose from the natural hot spring, swirling in the air like mist. Lanterns flickered along the stone pathways, casting warm golden light on the surrounding cherry blossom trees.
It was like something out of a dream.
Claire turned to Morgan, stunned. "You rented out an entire onsen?"
Morgan chuckled, already shrugging off her jacket. "Of course. I don't like to share."
A staff member guided them inside, leading them through a beautifully decorated hallway before showing them to their private bathing area. Claire's heart pounded as she stepped onto the wooden deck.
Morgan stood beside her, calm and composed as ever, already undoing the sash of her robe.
"You're staring," Morgan teased.
Claire's cheeks flushed as she quickly averted her gaze. She turned her back to Morgan, trying to compose herself as she slipped out of her own robe and stepped into the steaming water. The heat enveloped her instantly, melting away the exhaustion from travel. She let out a soft sigh, sinking in deeper.
A moment later, Morgan slipped in beside her, the water lapping gently against her toned body.
"This is unreal," Claire murmured, staring up at the night sky.
Morgan smirked. "Only the best for you, sweetheart."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, letting the warmth of the onsen relax them. The soft sound of the water, the occasional rustling of the wind through the trees—it was a stark contrast to the chaotic city life they had just left behind.
Morgan turned to Claire, her gaze unreadable. "Tell me, darling… have you ever had real Wagyu?"
Claire blinked at her. "I've had Wagyu before, but I doubt it was whatever you consider real Wagyu."
Morgan's smirk deepened. "Then prepare yourself. Because after this, you're going to have the best steak of your life."
---
After soaking in the hot springs until their bodies were completely relaxed, they changed into elegant yet comfortable silk yukatas before being led to a private dining room. The table was set beautifully, the soft glow of paper lanterns illuminating the space.
A Michelin-starred chef—because of course, Morgan only dined with the best—presented them with an array of exquisite dishes, but the highlight was undeniably the Wagyu steak.
The moment Claire took her first bite, she nearly moaned aloud.
The marbled beef practically melted on her tongue like butter, rich and decadent in a way she had never experienced before. The delicate seasoning, the perfect sear—it was an otherworldly experience.
Morgan watched her with an amused expression. "Good?"
Claire swallowed, eyes still wide. "This isn't food. This is sin."
Morgan chuckled. "I told you."
They continued their meal, sipping on sake and indulging in course after course of the finest Japanese cuisines. By the time they finished, Claire felt like she had just experienced a feast fit for royalty.
As they returned to their private suite for the night, Claire was acutely aware of just how close Morgan was to her, the way this woman's presence seemed to command the space.
Morgan slid the door open to their room, revealing a lavish futon setup—soft, inviting, and impossibly luxurious.
Claire swallowed hard.
Morgan turned to her, eyes dark with something unreadable. "You must be exhausted."
Claire nodded slowly yawning.
Morgan smirked. "Then let's get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."
With that, she slipped off her yukata and slid beneath the covers. Claire hesitated for only a moment before following suit, her heart hammering as she lay beside the woman who was slowly unraveling her world.
As the lights dimmed and the room fell into silence, Claire realized something.
She had come to Japan expecting an escape.
But with Morgan… she was only falling deeper.