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)
“You may not.”
“But . . .”
My neck tracks slowly. I had not regarded Umito with a single glance while speaking to him, craving the first sight of Ryann. When my gander bores into Umito, his lips tremble into a stutter of incoherency. His throat clears, eyes averted.
At the sliding door, coils of hair fall into beguiling brown eyes. It’s the first time I’ve seen Ryann’s face not caked in makeup, covering the bruise around her eye. It’s refreshing. Her skin is perfection, and a radiance emanates from her. Ryann’s mouth creases in the smallest of smiles as she holds one arm over the knit dress covering her abdomen. The other hand clasps a piece of rice paper between two fingers.
“You have a way with words, Ryoichi. I’ll have you know that the diamond necklace is still in the box.” She shakes her head. “It’s too expensive a gift, but this letter . . . it’s priceless.” Ryann scraps her bottom lip between her teeth. “Did you come up with the poem?”
“Not a poem. Just . . . uh . . . sentiments. And . . . all I wanted to do was wish you a happy birthday.” I clear my throat. Ryoichi, you imbecile. “Poetry requires rhythm and prose that isn’t necessarily true. What I’ve said is true.”
“That you care for me? That your heart called me love at first sight?”
I look toward Umito. He’s vanished. Only a few Pacific swifts fly across the various winding bridges branching off over my property. Other than that, my servants and underlings are ghosts awaiting their next assignment.
A hint of mischief lights Ryann’s eyes. “I should’ve looked up, saw if the feelings were mutual.” Her voice is a mumble.
“They were.”
“Oh, yeah?” She folds the paper, tucking it into her pocket.
“At the restaurant, yes. I saw it in your eyes.” I feel like a teenage boy with his first crush. I try to regain my composure. “Since I haven’t been permitted to ask, are the accommodations to your liking?”
“Oh, so I’m your guest now?” The curved bow of Ryann’s mouth softens as hope fills her eyes. “So, I can leave whenever I want.”
“My guest forever.” I smile.
“Ugh.” Ryann bites her lip. Annoyance radiates off her. “You don’t abduct someone and ask them if they appreciated the soaking tub.”
“You do, I can tell.”
Her smile is tight, barely there. I can tell she’s trying hard to be angry, but I hope my patience over the last few days has softened her to me. When a full smile graces her lips, my shoulders loosen like the calm river below, and we float toward common ground.
“That dream tub’s beside the point,” she says. “So, while I was denying your presence, I noticed a few of my friend’s paintings in my room.”
Most of the paintings I purchased at A Touch of Essence will be used for Tatchan laundering schemes. The ones with potential would have gone into my personal collection, but before I left Greece, I called ahead. “I assumed Essence’s images would bring you comfort in a new location. Walk with me.”
I slide my forearm out, and Ryann drags a hand over her gorgeous bare face. The bruise around her eye is nearly a memory.
We’re almost melding back into the two people who met in Greece. My jaw goes rigid at her trepidation. “I insist,” I say, tucking her into my side. We meander outside and over a wooden bridge.
“You’re a tyrant, Ryoichi.”
I step into Ryann’s personal space, and her breath quickens, tickling against my lips. “Nonsense. I’m a man who treasures what he values.”
Faster and faster, she inhales, craving the debauchery I’ve offered. “Let’s walk, shall we?” I ask.
An hour later, we’re lost again in our own world, segueing off each other. One word strikes up another conversation as Ryann asks about the upkeep of my bonsai trees.
“I’ll teach you.”
“Lies.” She laughs. “You tell everyone else what to do.”
“Granted, that is true. While I’m here, my gardener takes a reprieve.”
“What if I cut—”
I stop in front of her, my fingers gliding through hers. “I will show you, bijin.”
An exhale slides between her lips and caresses my mouth.
Another hour in, Ryann swings a katana from my war room. She slices through the chilly outdoor air. As she stops on a curved bridge, Ryann thumbs the emeralds embedded in the hilt. I’m mesmerized by how youthful she is, manipulating a piece of history like a toy. She’d stuttered that taking the katana from its case wouldn’t be a good idea. Murmured that she’s clumsy. But I was jealous of how her eyes lit up when staring at the sword, so I insisted.
Although we have more ground to cover, I stop walking to ask, “You like it?”
“Yeah.” She seductively saunters toward me, hoisting the katana like an assassin. “Don’t tell anyone but . . .”