The aroma of grilled steak hits me when I reach the first floor, and walking through the open-space foyer, I stop by the entrance to the kitchen.
Yuki’s changed into a dress that barely covers her ass.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean my shoulder against the doorjamb, watching as my brand-new wife prepares food.
There’s a slight frown line between her eyes as she concentrates on mashing the boiled potatoes.
She slips her foot out of the ballet flats and wiggles her toes before shoving it back into the shoe.
“Are the shoes uncomfortable?” I ask.
Yuki lets out a shriek, and a streak of mashed potatoes flies through the air. I have to move fast to avoid the utensil as it sails past me before dropping to the floor in the foyer.
She has good aim.
Looking at Yuki, I see the blood drain from her face. Her eyes are locked on me, her breath speeding up.
Not thinking, I move toward her, and just like in the hangar, she lets out a scared whimper while shaking her head wildly.
I stop dead in my tracks. “I’m not going to hurt you, Yuki.”
Approaching her slowly, I try to soften my expression as much as possible. By the time I reach her, her breaths are audibly racing over her lips, and she squeezes her eyes shut as if she’s bracing for a punch.
Unable to stop myself, I pull her against my chest and wrap my arms around her. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, another heavy sigh escapes from me for what feels like the hundredth time today.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I repeat.
She feels so small, and as she trembles in my hold, it chips away at my heart.
When Yuki remains tense, I give up and let go of her. She quickly moves backward to put space between us, a cautious light in her eyes.
We stare at each other for a moment, and I wish there were a way I could make her believe that she’s safe with me, but it’s only day one. Yuki knows nothing about me except for what she’s experienced.
As I reach for the paper towels, she flinches, but when I begin to wipe up the streak of mashed potatoes from the granite top of the island, she shoots into action.
Yuki rushes around the kitchen, picking up the utensil before mopping up the mess left on the floor. When she returns to preparing the meal, there’s a flash of pain on her face.
“Take off the shoes,” I say, my tone a little too harsh.
She carries out the order as I walk closer to her. Crouching beside her, I check her ankles, and when I see the blisters, a growl rumbles from my chest.
As I straighten up, Yuki ducks her head and pulls up her shoulders, once again bracing for a slap.
Her reactions to me have a direct link to a chisel that chips away at my heart every time she flinches.
I take hold of her hips, and lifting her off the floor, I turn around and set her down on the island.
I grab a couple of Band-Aids from the cupboard where I keep the vitamins and cold meds Mom constantly restocks. She always complains when medication expires without me using it, and no matter what I say, she keeps buying it.
When I return to Yuki, I notice how she’s tugging at the hem of the dress, trying to cover her thighs and clearly feeling uncomfortable.
“Don’t you have anything else to wear?”
She shakes her head, but then pauses to say, “Lingerie.”
As I stare at his daughter, I wish I could kill Tanaka.
I take a seat on the stool by Yuki, and carefully, I stick the Band-Aids over the blisters.
