Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 96404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“He’s marrying her off to the Russian mafia.”
“What?”
“Lower your voice. You’re not supposed to find out about this.”
“He can’t marry her off. I got married so she’d stay safe.”
“His thoughts and yours are different. Both of you are assets of power that he’ll use to its fullest potential.”
“If she gets married into the Russian mafia, she’ll be eaten alive.”
“There’s that, but the bigger issue is that she’s agreeing to it.”
“She’s what?”
“You know Mio. Dutiful to a fault.”
“God. This is a disaster.”
“I agree.”
“Then tell him that.”
“He believes this to be the most logical choice to strengthen his ties with the Bratva and, therefore, won’t listen to me.”
“And you think he’ll listen to me?”
“No. Which is why you need to be careful, Ojou-sama. Don’t antagonize him.”
“If he marries her off, I won’t stand still for it.”
“Don’t tell me any details. I’m not your accomplice.”
“You’ve been my accomplice since the day you saved me, Kai.”
“Unfortunately. Maybe.”
I lean against the wall, catching my breath from all the things that have happened in the span of a day. Japan feels so much safer now. At the beginning, working from there was a challenge since Chester Couture is based in the States; I managed it well and even opened a branch in Japan so I could have something to focus on.
But now that I’m back in the States, I’m not so sure if it was a wise decision at all. Ever since I married Akira soon after Mom’s death, I’ve never thought about coming back here.
That’s a lie. But lying is better than the truth sometimes.
I straighten and face Kai. “Let’s go outside before they notice we’re gone.”
“Ojou-sama.”
“Yeah?”
“You spoke with him tonight?”
My heart skips a beat and a painful thud I thought would disappear claws its way to the surface. I don’t have to play dumb and ask who, so I nod instead.
“You survived then. You have to keep surviving by staying away from him.”
Kai thinks it’s that easy.
He believes surviving is a convenient thing that I can simply attach my mind to and it’ll follow my command.
I release a sigh. “I have to meet with him.”
“And make Akira suspicious?”
“That’s the main reason I need to do it. Akira wants to work with him and I have to prevent it.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“No! The last time you took care of something, he almost died.”
“But he didn’t die.”
“Kai…”
“Fine. Do it your way. But are you sure you can talk to him without sacrificing something in return? The man he is today is different from the quarterback you knew back then.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “I can handle him.”
Or so I like to believe.
20
Akira
Dear Yuki-Onna,
I’m only writing these letters for self-records now.
I lost hope that you’ll ever reply to my previous ones, let alone read this, but I guess old habits die hard.
Every week, I sit in front of my computer and type these things, not because I want to, but because something feels fucking missing if I don’t do it.
*insert shrug here*
My life is going downhill. I thought I hit rock bottom before but, apparently, there are fucking levels for that shit and I’m now in the middle.
Or maybe I’m barely scratching the surface.
I lost my soul. Yeah, funny, I know. The soulless guy actually lost his nonexistent soul.
My crisis is book-worthy, I swear.
But maybe it’s not a crisis, after all, and I’m only imagining things. Maybe my soul is indeed missing and I’m just being a dramatic asshole who needs attention.
I don’t, usually. I’m not you, after all.
Whatever it is, something is missing. And before your head grows in size, no, it’s not you. It’s something in me. I felt it before, but now it’s just empty and soundless.
Maybe it passed away during my sleep.
Maybe Yuki-Onna came through my window, after all, and is now confiscating whatever I have to offer.
Maybe you’re the one who put her up to it. Or maybe she’s you.
Either way, it’s working. My sins are finally catching up to me.
I pray that you’re living a shitty life.
Amen,
Akira
21
Sebastian
“Mr. Weaver is asking for you.”
I stop near the door of my office at my assistant’s voice. I peek at her from around the glass door that separates her space from mine.
She’s juggling a phone between her shoulder and ear, fussing with countless case files with one hand, and typing away at her keyboard with the other.
“Do you need another assistant, Candice?”
She gives me the stink eye.
Candice is a middle-aged black woman with a big figure and a sharp tongue. She’s been with Nate and Kingsley since they opened Weaver & Shaw, and I stole her away with my negotiating skills. She soon hated me due to the workload she has to take care of.
“What do you think, young Weaver?” She tips her chin in the direction of her desk. “This won’t sort itself.”