Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
A servant falls prostrate on the ground, only lifting his head so that his lips aren’t scratching the floor as he speaks.
What is he saying?
Ryoichi nods slowly, and his response is almost contemplative. He turns to me. “I must go.”
“Where?”
“I have company. Under no circumstances are you to leave the room, Ryann. Please.”
As always, when stuck in an anxiety-ridden situation, I snort and reel it back into a hesitant laugh. “We’re keeping open communication, right?”
Ryoichi's a second from walking away when his knuckles softly skim my jaw. “Osaka Tatsun has arrived. He never visits unannounced. I’m assuming he’s coming to finish what you failed to do yesterday when you were still angry with me.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
Sorrow edges one side of his mouth upward. “To cut my head off for repudiation. The two of you are the only ones I’ve ever made vows to. And it would seem my actions require atonement on both accounts.”
Ryoichi was adamant I stay in the room, but after five minutes, my heart was damn near ready to leap out of my chest. This is love—like every romance film where the dummy in the relationship realizes it too late and sprints their asses off in a crowded airport, train station, or whatever.
I slip into the outfit I wore yesterday morning. I think about how a steamy shower and brushing my teeth might give me the gumption to address a yakuza boss, but there’s no time for that. I dash out of Ryoichi’s room and beg the first person I see to point me in his direction. Unfortunately, it’s the same dude that gave the lousy directions to Ryoichi’s cherry blossom tree.
I’m growling for him to escort me when Umito circles the corner. “Ryann, please.” His hand sweeps toward the bedroom.
“Take me to Ryoichi now.”
“You may attack me. Ryoichi will kill—”
“Now!” I order, approaching an end table to grab a vase to clobber him. I’m not sure what’s come over me. I was never this person. He makes me this person.
“As you wish,” he says between pinched lips.
As we stroll down a corridor, I mutter an apology. I haven’t finished getting the guilty feeling off my chest when Umito stops before an archway carved in jade.
Inside the sitting room’s a throng of Japanese men in suits, and they’re all glowering at Ryoichi, who kneels at the feet of one with silver hair. The boss runs a hand over his beard. His disappointment is evident in how he paces back and forth. He speaks in a tone that hasn’t risen in pitch yet conveys his meaning. That has to be Osaka.
Damn, I should’ve taken Japanese!
“Ex-excuse me . . .excuse me, please.” Geez, Ry, now’s not the time to be meek.
Osaka’s eyes snap toward me, as does everyone else’s. Ryoichi lifts his upper body, leaning on his haunches to groan.
I bow. “Do you speak English? I understand it’s rude to ask, especially since I’m in your country and—"
“I do. Come here, Miss Moore.”
“You know my name?”
Osaka smiles like one would after meeting a newborn baby who spit up on his tie. “I do. In fact, I’m here to verify your safety.”
“I’m safe. Very . . . very safe . . .” I edge forward.
“You appear frightened.”
“No.” Too fast, girl. I can’t say, “Because of your chosen career, I’m creeped out!”
Is being in the Yakuza a career?
Are there guns beneath all their jackets?
Girl, why would you even? Yes, they have tailored suits and probably guns with pearl handles.
Or jade handles.
Oh, or diamonds.
Okay, Ry Pie, you’re freaking out here.
I clear my throat. “Just a little thrown off. I’m the only woman in a room full of men.” Yeah, that makes sense.
“Is Ryoichi holding you hostage?”
Osaka gestures with his hands, encouraging my response. After a few beats, he gently prompts, “Keeping you against your will? Are you a captive?”
“Oh, no.” I shake my head.
“Please sit with me.” Osaka’s request is followed by a chair being placed directly behind him. Man, his men are on point. Another chair is positioned across from it, a few feet away.
On trembling legs, I go toward the seat and thank God my legs haven’t failed me upon sitting. I glance at Ryoichi.
“You mustn’t worry about him, Ms. Moore. I must apologize. Until recently, Ryoichi was the most respected saiko komon ever initiated into my . . . family . . . business.”
Your gang.
“He will be reprimanded for his current behavior. You say that you’re here—”
“Of my free will.” I gasp. “Sorry to cut you off. But Ryoichi’s still the same guy you once―”
“None of these are Ryoichi’s men, Ms. Moore.” Osaka glances around. “They’re all mine.”
My brow dips. I don’t get it.
“Please be honest. These men are here because I assure you Ryoichi will be punished, as well as any of those who assisted him with abducting you. Now, you have family in the States searching for you as of twenty-four hours ago. On various social media outlets, people plead for your safe return. You were last seen in Santorini, Greece. Upon leaving your hotel, you were with men who fit the description of Ryoichi Ziatso and his men.”