Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
She saw me, quickly moved to the side, and bowed her head. "Tiger-sama. Would you like anything? Tea? Coffee?"
"Oh, no. I'm heading to the kitchen now, but thank you."
She smiled warmly. "Of course. If you need anything at all, please let us know."
I nodded, and she walked away, still smiling.
Deja's message continued: "And Nyomi we are eating LOBSTER on this plane. LOBSTER! With that melted butter and everything! Nika over here crying, girl. Literal tears. She said she's never going back to Bed-Stuy."
I snorted.
"They got champagne. CHAMPAGNE, NYOMI! The expensive kind! And these seats? These seats recline all the way back into BEDS. BEDS ON A PLANE! I took seventeen pictures. I'm posting them all to the Gram, Bitch! I don't even care if people think I'm bragging. THIS IS MY MOMENT! Hate if you want."
The message ended and I had to pause in the hallway, yet again due to my laughing so hard my stomach hurt.
The guards waited patiently, but I caught the scarred one smiling slightly. “We must get back to the Dragon.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. It’s just these messages.”
We continued walking.
I pressed on the final message.
"GIRL!" Deja's voice was pure joy now. "I am in JAPAN, Biittttchhh! And we got a VILLA! Not a hotel room—a whole VILLA! Nyomi, it's right on the water! I can see the ocean from my BEDROOM! There's a private BEACH, Bitch! Nika and I went down there and put our feet in the water and she started crying again! And she took that damn champagne glass too. If these people complain to you, tell them that Nika did it. Deja didn’t do that shit."
I grinned, shaking my head.
"And baby, we got a butler. A BUTLER! His name is Takeshi and he brought us tea this morning on a silver tray. SILVER, NYOMI! With little cookies! And he bowed! He BOWED and called me 'Deja-sama' and I almost passed out! I don’t know what that means, but now everybody got to call me that shit back in Bed-stuy, bitch!"
The kitchen was just ahead now.
I could see the door.
"They said your appointment will be sometime this week, but girl, take your time. Take ALL the time. This is a VACATION for me now. I brought all your stuff—the pre-stretched braiding hair in colors 1, 1B, 2, and 4 like you like. I brought my good rat-tail combs. My edge control. Everything. But honestly? I might just stay here. Nika already asked Takeshi if we could extend the villa for a month. He was looking at us like he don’t understand English. You heard me. We trying to live in this motherfucker. Alright, bitch. Sayōnara and what not."
The message ended with Deja's laughter fading out.
I stopped just outside the kitchen door, smiling at my phone.
My chest tightened with affection for Kenji. Even my hair stylist—someone he'd never met—was being treated like royalty because she mattered to me.
The last voicemail played.
My editor Janet's professional voice, tinged with concern. "Nyomi, I saw the news about the bombings in Tokyo. Please call me when you can to let me know you're safe. Also, when you get a chance, I'd love an update on your progress with the sex industry book. Hope you're taking care of yourself out there."
I closed my eyes.
The sex industry book. Janet had no idea that my research had taken a turn that involved falling in love with a crime lord, passing tests with his inner circle, and now writing a completely different book about a dominatrix who rose from nothing.
I'd have to call her back and figure out how to explain everything.
But first, tea and maybe. . .something to eat.
I pushed open the kitchen door, and the guards positioned themselves just inside, flanking the entrance but giving me space.
And that's when I saw him.
Hiro.
An empty sake bottle sat near his elbow.
A glass, still half-full, rested near his right hand.
He'd been drinking.
Hard.
He was slumped over the kitchen table. Shirtless. His head rested on his crossed, muscular arms. His long dark hair fell forward like a curtain, obscuring half his face.
But it was his body that stopped me cold.
Oh my God.
Hiro was. . .beautiful.
Devastatingly so.
His bare back was a canvas of ink and muscle, every line of his body carved with the kind of definition that came from years of brutal training. Broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist, and even in this collapsed position, I could see the power coiled beneath his skin.
But it was the tattoos that held my attention.
His entire back was covered in an intricate masterpiece that made my breath catch.
At the top, spanning across both shoulder blades, cherry blossoms bloomed in delicate shades of pale pink and white. But these weren't gentle blossoms drifting peacefully.
These were blossoms in a violent storm, petals being torn from their branches, some whole and some shredded, scattering downward across his spine in a cascade of destruction.