Don't Ever Stop: A BDSM Billionaire Romance by Vivie Rock

scared, too. Terrified that I was uncovering something that shouldn’t be uncovered. That I was on the cusp of something far bigger than any of the idle gossip I’d been hearing around the office since I started.
    I needed some air. I’d go and get some lunch. I knew what I needed to have.
    Just then I noticed another email pop up. It was him. Shaking, I read it:
     
    Meet me at Tambara, at 7pm tomorrow night. I will buy you dinner, and give you an explanation.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER NINETEEN
    Cards Are On The Table
     
    Tambara was the most expensive restaurant I had ever been to. I could tell that before I had even set foot in the place. It wasn’t the restaurant I saw Mr. Cooper outside the other day, when I was with Patrick. This one was even deeper into the pricey end of Midtown. The door of the restaurant did not have a menu outside, advertising its food. Instead, the restaurant name was presented in elegant gold lettering, and the archway leading inside was woven with hundreds of tiny, bright flowers, forming a sweet-smelling lattice to welcome its customers in. It must have needed re-weaving every couple of days, and was surely at least eight hours’ work. It was absolutely beautiful.
    I took in a deep breath of jasmine as I walked through the archway and into the restaurant.
    Inside, it was even more exquisite. The walls contained intricate wooden carvings, and the candlelight shone in such a way that gentle, shapely shadows danced across them, drawing the eye around the artwork in all directions. On each table was a beautiful cut-glass vase, containing sprigs of lavender, filling up the room with their sweet-smelling perfume.
    I could also smell cedar wood and spicy miso, fresh fish and the sharpness of lemon. It was a feast for the senses, and it was heavenly.
    The waitress, a beautifully-groomed Japanese woman, in a tight, seashell-pink kimono, walked me over to a private table in the corner. Mr. Cooper was already there. He watched me walk over to him, his expression hard and severe. When I sat down, he softened. ‘Rose,’ he said gently. ‘Thank you for coming.’
    The waitress handed me a menu, and I thanked her, feeling woefully out of place in this beautiful environment. I was wearing a fitted blue dress, made out of t-shirt material, with three-quarter length sleeves. It felt both too frumpy and too casual. I never seemed to get my outfits right. ‘Thanks for inviting me,’ I said pathetically, waving my menu around in the air out of embarrassment. Sometimes I really was a goofball. ‘So what’s the best dish here, then?’
    ‘I’ve already ordered for us,’ Mr. Cooper said. ‘You won’t be needing the menu.’
    ‘Oh. Okay.’ I put the menu down. I knew my boss was controlling what I ate, but surely not when I was out at a restaurant? I’ve never had the opportunity to go to a fancy place like this in my life. I was kind of disappointed I didn’t at least get to pick one thing off the menu.
    ‘I’ve been here before,’ he said, as if sensing my disappointment. ‘I know the best dishes.’ He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as if savouring his surroundings, and then his gaze flicked back to me. ‘They make their own silken tofu here. The wasabi is grated fresh. The spicy miso with lobster is a specialty. I’ve ordered plenty. Don’t worry.’
    I felt embarrassed; I didn’t want him to think me ungrateful.
    The waitress appeared, said something which sounded Japanese to Mr. Cooper, and he nodded, handed her the menus back, and then said something in Japanese to her. ‘There are over 40 types of saké on the menu,’ he told me. ‘Wait until you try this one.’
    The waitress brought over a small ceramic flask, along with two small, cylindrical cups. She bowed and then walked away.
    ‘Juyondai,’ said Mr. Cooper, ‘is a much sought after, rare brand of saké. It’s produced by the Takagi Shuzo brewery, which was established in the seventeenth century. The