Chapter XVIII: Just Wonderful

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Lance paced back and forth, thinking about Andrea and how she managed to use that technique of hers on the first week. He went to the bar and poured himself some port, he never was and is a man who consorts to alcohol, but he has nothing to do. He's on the other side of the world, and his business will be crumbling to bits if he does not stay and go through three more meetings on the next three days. 

He closed his eyes as he try to let go all the stress. 

Dammit! Why didn't I bring that neon stressball! He thought to himself as he heard a knock sounded on his hotel room's door. 

"Come in," he barked, not really in the mood to be polite and respectful. 

The door opened and Bianca's head popped in, "Sir, Mr. Nagasaki's here," she announced. 

His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. Mr. Nagasaki is the man who owns thirty percent of his company, second to his forty-nine, and the man who has been threatening his company, buying off other people's share, topping his prices. 

"Should I let him in, Mr. Gallagher?" she asked. 

He straightened up his dress shirt and looked at his reflection, before deciding he looked presentable and nodded to Bianca. 

She disappeared for a second, before opening the door wider revealing Mr. Nagasaki and his secretary. 

"Konbanwa, Nagasaki-san," he greeted as he walked over to them and held out his hand. 

Mr. Nagasaki nodded and took his hand, "I want this conversation to be just between us. Tatsuya, please wait for me outside," Nagasaki said in a deeply accented voice. 

"Hai," Tatsuya said hesitantly and Lance nodded for Bianca to guide him. 

"Take a seat, sir," he gestured to the leather couch. 

"Save the niceties for the board, call me Takinaga, and I believe I could call you Lance?" Nagasaki inquired, a touch of a smile forming on his wrinkled face. 

Lance nodded, "Of course. May I offer you a drink?" he asked. 

Nagasaki shook his head, "I want to live longer," he smiled. 

Lance looked at the port glass he's holding and put it back to the bar, he also want to live longer. 

"Lance, how old are you?" Nagasaki asked as Lance sat down on his single-seater. 

"Thirty-nine," Lance answered, confused. 

Nagasaki nodded as if taking it in, "Any family?" 

"None," 

"Wife?" 

"None," 

"Lover?" 

Lance caught himself before uttering an answer. He could not understand his relationship with Andrea. They kissed, yes, but that is all there is except of course, the always present explosions and butterflies that seems so cliche and sounded like a hormonal teenager's words.

"I see you are confused," Nagasaki broke into his thoughts. 

Lance looked at the elder man, "As much as I don't want to admit it, yes," he admitted. 

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