Chapter 14: Friends Don’t Look At Friends That Way

Aizen's POV

The evolution of my relationship with Desiree has been nothing short of transformative. I find myself drawn to her and falling deeper with each day we spend together. Once, I viewed love as a vulnerability, a weakness to be avoided at all costs... Desiree is my strength and the only person to calm my storms. I know it's selfish, but I don't want this to end. She's everything to me. 

Kenji and I went through the grind today, both in the corporate world and in our clandestine endeavors. Being entrenched in the yakuza lifestyle is no walk in the park. With each passing day, I find myself contemplating the future, particularly the weight of responsibility that will be thrust upon me once my father transfers the reins of the empire. It's a daunting prospect, one that leaves me wondering how much more time I'll have to spare for Desiree amidst the chaos of it all. 

"Hey," Kenji's voice breaks through my musings, his troubled expression mirroring the weight on my mind. He passes me a glass of whiskey, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. 

"What's with the face, Kenji?" I inquire, sensing the gravity behind his troubled demeanor.

A moment of silence lingered between us before Kenji finally voiced his concerns. "We're falling behind on schedule with the new drug," he began, his tone laced with urgency. "We need to stay focused if we want your father to hand you the company sooner rather than later.

"Kenji, you know as well as I do that we can't rush the science," I countered, taking a sip of the whiskey he offered. "Some things are beyond our control."

"You've grown soft," he remarked, downing his own drink. "Your father won't take kindly to that."

"My father respects our marriage," I asserted, setting the glass down firmly. "Desiree isn't just a distraction. She's my wife, and he's grown fond of her. So, let it go."

"Your fake wife," Kenji corrected, his expression unyielding. "Remember that, Aizen. She's not yours."

"I retorted, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. "Desiree Nara is my wife."

Kenji sighed in frustration, refilling both our glasses. "Whatever. I'm just looking out for you," he cautioned, his voice tinged with worry. "I've seen what losing her did to you before. In five years…"

"She won't leave," I interjected firmly, draining my glass. "Trust me, Kenji…"

He regarded me with a mixture of concern and skepticism. "Just be careful," he cautioned, his tone heavy with warning.

I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, offering a smile. "Thanks for looking out for me," I acknowledged, "But Desiree is here to stay."

"Do you think she'll stay once she finds out what you're hiding?" he pressed, his concern palpable. 

"We'll make sure she never finds out," I vowed, determination lacing my words. "I love her, Kenji. And as long as she doesn't know, she'll stay by my side."

"You promised you wouldn't risk her life," he reminded me sternly. "If you continue down this path, she'll be in constant danger."

"I won't let anything happen to her," I assured him, my resolve unwavering.

Kenji chuckled softly, a hint of disbelief in his tone. "Looks like you're sticking with the selfish option, huh?" He finished off another glass of whiskey, a resigned acceptance in his demeanor. "But hey, count me in, no matter what."

"Brothers," I said, offering my fist for a bump.

Kenji nodded, reciprocating the gesture. "Brothers."

As I returned home, I indulged in a long shower, allowing the hot water to cleanse away the remnants of my clandestine activities. Once refreshed, I slipped into my robe, determined to shed the weight of my hidden life. Entering our shared bedroom, my gaze fell upon the serene form of my beloved. 

Desiree lay before me, the very picture of Sleeping Beauty incarnate. Clad in her nightgown—a delicate ensemble of pale blue adorned with intricate yellow lace and slender spaghetti straps—she exuded an ethereal beauty. Her long, obsidian locks cascaded around her, framing her delicate features with a soft halo of darkness. 

Gently, I settled beside her, drawn to the warmth of her presence. Leaning in, I pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, a silent promise of my love and devotion. With her near, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, lulling me into a tranquil slumber beside the woman who held my heart. 

As I stirred from slumber, I found Desiree's body entwined with mine, her form draped over me with a delicate weightlessness. Her breaths were soft, rhythmic whispers against my skin, and her presence brought a sense of serenity to the morning light. Running my fingers gently through her hair, I marveled at the peacefulness she exuded. 

Desiree shifted, her gaze meeting mine with a drowsy warmth. Snuggling closer, she nestled her head against my neck, her embrace tightening. "Let's sleep a little longer," she murmured, her voice soft and content. 

Though her touch ignited a primal desire within me, I hesitated, torn between the intimacy of our embrace and the promise I'd made to her. "This isn't a good position, Desiree," I murmured, attempting to gently disentangle myself. 

Confusion flickered across her features as she peered at me, unaware of the effect her proximity had on me. Her innocent gaze turned to embarrassment as she felt the undeniable evidence of my arousal, her cheeks flushing crimson as she quickly shifted to my side, hiding her face in a pillow. "Sorry!" she mumbled, her voice muffled by embarrassment.

Covering my face with my hand, I felt a mix of embarrassment and frustration wash over me. At this moment, it was I who should feel ashamed. 

"I really didn't mean to," she said, face still covered behind the pillow. "You were comfy… I didn't notice how close we got and that I was doing something that could awaken your desires."

"It's not your fault," I assured her, trying to calm myself down. "You have nothing to apologize for. It's just one of those things that happens sometimes."

The tension dissipated as we stepped out of the bedroom, replaced by the bustling excitement of a Saturday outing. Today's mission: finding the perfect dress for Desiree to wear to the upcoming party next week. We ventured into several designer stores, scouring racks of exquisite garments in search of the ideal ensemble. Despite our efforts, nothing seemed to catch her eye. 

As I waited for Desiree to emerge from the fitting room, the fatigue of the day began to weigh on me. Yet, all traces of weariness vanished the moment she stepped into view. My eyes widened in awe at the sight of her, taking in every captivating detail. 

Clad in a stunning black dress, Desiree exuded an irresistible allure. The figure-hugging silhouette accentuated her curves flawlessly, while the sweetheart neckline and delicate spaghetti straps adorned with pearl-studded bow accents added a touch of elegance. Beneath the dress, she wore sheer black tights that accentuated the sleek lines of her legs, paired with chic black stilettos that elongated her frame. In that moment, she was nothing short of breathtaking. 

Desiree's voice broke through the momentary silence, her tone playful yet warm. "Guess I don't need to ask you how I look, seeing that's your reaction," she beamed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. 

"You're incredibly beautiful," I murmured, tracing the contours of her figure from her neck to her waist. Leaning closer, I added in a whisper, "And incredibly sexy."

A blush tinted her cheeks as she giggled in response to my compliment. "Is it too revealing, though?" she asked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "Maybe something longer?"

I waved off her concern. "No," I reassured her, my voice firm yet gentle. "The theme of the party is sexy. Every wife and girlfriend is expected to look the part, and so are the men." I looked at the attendant, gesturing for him to come over. "We'll take it," I said. 

The man looked at me with concern, shaking his head. "Mr. Nara, if I may, we've been working together for quite some time now, and I don't think that this suits your wife."

Desiree turned away, her expression hidden as she concealed the frown on her face. "Oh," she murmured softly.

I glared at him, arching my brow in disbelief. "Excuse me?" I questioned sharply, my tone firm and assertive.

The attendant's words struck a nerve, his tone dripping with thinly veiled judgment. "The dress may not be the most suitable for your wife's figure," he remarked, his words carrying a weight of societal expectation. "You understand the importance of adhering to Japan's beauty standards, don't you?"

In a split second, my patience wore thin, and without a second thought, my hands clenched tightly onto the attendant's jacket. "What the fuck did you just say?" I growled, my voice laced with a dangerous edge.

"Aizen!" Desiree's gasp snapped me back to reality, her urgent voice slicing through the tension. I felt her gentle hands on my arm, trying to pull me away from the attendant. 

"Apologies, Mr. Nara," the attendant bowed, "But I'm just expressing my concern. Mrs. Nara's thighs and legs are on the fuller side. I suggest that longer dresses would complement her figure better."

Before he could finish, my fist had already landed on his cheek, driven by an overwhelming surge of rage. How dare that bastard criticize my wife's appearance? He had no right to make such comments. Desiree was perfect just the way she was. 

Desiree intervened, positioning herself between us, her arms outstretched as if shielding the bastard who had just insulted her. Her gaze was steady and resolute, unwavering in its intensity. "Stop it, Aizen," she admonished, her voice firm and commanding.

I regained my composure, smoothing out the wrinkles in my suit. "I'm sorry," I murmured to Desiree, pressing a kiss to her hand. Gently, I guided her behind me, silently promising not to lash out again. 

Turning my attention back to the insolent attendant, I fixed him with a cold, steely gaze. "Apologize to my wife for insulting her," I demanded, my voice laced with venom and menace. "Get on your knees and beg for forgiveness."

"Aizen," Desiree interjected, shaking her head disapprovingly. "Please, rise," she urged the man. "I apologize for the altercation. My husband is simply protective," she added, bowing respectfully. "However, we would appreciate it if you could arrange for another attendant."

"Sincerely, Mrs. Nara," the attendant stammered, bowing deeply before hastily departing. 

Desiree's glare bore into me, her eyes reflecting a mix of disappointment and reproach. 

"What?" I inquired, reaching out to touch her shoulders. 

She brushed off my hands, stepping back with a solemn expression. "You shouldn't have done that, Aizen," she chastised. "You didn't have to resort to violence."

"He shouldn't have insulted you," I countered, gently taking her hand in mine. "I'm just surprised. I never imagined you'd let someone disrespect you like that."

"He was simply stating facts," she replied, turning away. "I'm fat."

The old Desiree wouldn't have stood for such disrespect. She was fierce, unyielding, a force to be reckoned with. Guilt gnawed at me, knowing I had contributed to her insecurity with thoughtless words in the past.

"Hey," I murmured, tilting her chin to meet my gaze. "You're not fat, Desiree. That guy is an ignorant fool." Letting out a frustrated sigh, I continued, "And I was an idiot. I shouldn't have made those comments about your weight before." Pulling her into a comforting embrace, I whispered, "I'm sorry, Des."

Desiree's words cut through the air with a heavy weight, her tone tinged with self-doubt. "Don't lie," she insists, her voice quivering slightly. "I know I'm fat."

"You're not," I counter gently, my hands tracing the curves of her body with reverence. "You're beautiful and sexy, Desiree," I whisper, my touch lingering on her thigh, eliciting a gasp and a blush from her. "Do you want me to prove it to you?"I murmur, desire thick in my voice as I press a tender kiss to her neck, feeling her shiver beneath my touch. 

"Aizen," she breathes, tugging at my jacket, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Not here." 

Leaning in closer, my eyes clouded with longing, I suggest, "Perhaps at home, then?" Planting a trail of soft kisses along her collarbone, I can feel her pulse quicken beneath my lips. 

"No," she manages to protest, gently pushing me away, her eyes betraying her own desires as she bites her lip. "You promised," she reminded me, pointing a finger.

I chuckle softly, nodding in understanding. "Alright," I concede, giving her one final lingering kiss. "If you only knew the things you do to me, Desiree."

As much as I yearn for her, I respect her wishes above all else. Holding her in my arms is enough for now. Until she's ready, I'll cherish every moment we have together. 

I love you, Desiree.