“Paradiso, then Vitale Health, then the warehouse.”
“You know it’s Sunday,” Lorenzo grumbles.
I glance at him where he’s sitting in the passenger seat while Raffaele is behind the steering wheel. “Your point being?”
“Some people rest on Sundays,” he says. “Especially after attending a wedding that only ended in the early hours of the morning.”
“Are you telling me you’re tired?” I ask, my tone playful.
He scowls at me from over his shoulder. “Aren’t you?”
“No,” I reply, even though it’s a lie. Lorenzo slumps back into his seat, not looking happy. I let out a chuckle as I say, “We’ll be quick so you can get your lazy ass home.”
“Hungover,” he corrects me. “There’s a difference.”
“Next time you won’t drink so much,” Raffaele says.
Lorenzo raises his eyebrows. “You drank more than me.”
“Yeah, but I can handle it, unlike you.”
I listen to two men ribbing each other as we drive toward the club.
Honestly, I’m exhausted and could do with a nap, but there’s no time.
Riccardo better enjoy Japan for the both of us.
Chapter 3
Yuki
The past week went by way too fast. I spent all my time making two beautiful clay pots and catching up on some of my TV shows. It was heavenly.
Letting out a sigh, I feel miserable as I’m driven to Molecule, one of the best clubs in Tokyo, that’s partially owned by the Yakuza. It’s where all the trust-fund babies and rich people prefer to hang out.
When the car stops right by the entrance, Kentaro gets out from the front to open my door, and I exhale heavily as I climb out.
I’m dressed in aBalenciagasweater and sweatpants that flare wide at my feet, the clothes very bulky. It’s already second-nature to walk like a man, my steps wide while I roll my shoulders, giving other people the impression I don’t give a fuck about anything.
I hear a woman gasp and whisper, “That’s Ryo Tanaka. His father is the head of the Yakuza. He’s so good-looking!”
I glance at her, and the moment she notices, she waves at me, grinning as if she thinks she stands a chance with me. Her friend leans forward, looking excited as she asks, “Ryo, can we sit with you in your private section?”
Over my dead body will I pretend to be interested in a woman. Besides, it’s way too risky. One of them might get handsy and discover the disguise is fake and that I have breasts.
I glance away and ignore them as I enter the club. The bouncer doesn’t even search my guards or me, and we’re given a respectful bow.
As I make my way to the VIP area, I glance at all the clubbers, admiring the pretty outfits the women are wearing with a twinge of sadness in my chest.
I wonder what will happen to me when Ryo returns to take his place as theKumicho.Will he be happy to see me, or has all the training turned him into a cruel monster like our father?
My heart squeezes painfully at the thought that Ryo will be a carbon copy of Father. Not sweet Ryo, who always made me laugh and spent endless hours by my side.
Staff keep bowing their heads for me as I walk past them. Reaching the section where I usually sit, I flop down on one of the couches, letting out another sigh. I place my right arm on the backrest while letting my legs fall open, the position casual and careless.
The entire VIP area is made up of sections separated by wooden partitions that only reach an inch or so past the couches. It’s so guests can see who else is in the VIP area but still have some kind of privacy. Each section contains two leather couches and a coffee table.
I pull my phone out so I can play a game. For the next two hours, I’ll try to beat my high score while putting up with meaningless conversations if anyone stops by to talk to me.
