She was trying to hide it, but she was pretty freaked out. Asked me to get a specific message to the boss ASAP: Her father is demanding an audience this morning. She is to be, “picked up and hauled around like a doll” in ninety minutes or less. Says she broke her phone and won’t have a means of communication until after. And it’s just my opinion, but it doesn’t sound like a good scene.
Santino cracked his neck as the elevator descended. “Call a team together. It looks like I’ll be meeting my father-in-law today, and call it a hunch, but I don’t think he’s gonna like me.”
Armando nodded. “Should we move Miss Matsunaga to a safehouse?”
“No. I’ll talk to her, see if she wants to say goodbye or not. If she chooses not”—Santino leveled his gaze on Armando to make sure his words were heard—“she is to be ushered tohome, where she has free reign, and the house itself locked down until my return. Luca will remain in charge of her security if it comes to that.”
“Understood.”
Santino fell silent again while Armando sent out his orders. The elevator released them and Santino rushed forward without waiting for his guard to slip ahead, familiar grumblings falling on deaf ears. All he cared about was getting to Reiko’s side before her father could hurt her more. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in his mind that hurting her was at the top of the day’s agenda for that piece of shit.
Reiko couldn’t bring herself to wear the pantsuit.
She tried telling herself it was because the pantsuit would be better served for job interviews, and she couldn’t afford to assume she didn’t still need to be looking for those. So, she had chosen a seasonally appropriate wrap-style dress. The dress was calf-length, long-sleeved, with a lightly scooped collar that didn’t show even a hint of cleavage, and tied over her scarred hip. It did have a split where the fabric intentionally failed to overlap on one side, up to her knee. She’d probably push the sleeves up to her elbows before she got to the meeting, too. Her father wouldn’t care for those details, or the casual vibe of the cream-colored, floral-patterned dress.
That was too bad. It was the best he would get. She wasn’t going to dress herself up like she was attending a wedding. Although, for a reason she could not define, it did sort of feel like she was preparing herself for her own funeral.
Her fingers paused as they trailed over one of the flowers printed into the fabric. The flowers were shades of blue, varying from faded and light to as dark as indigo. Most, like the one beneath the tip of her finger, were brighter and more vibrant. And she knew, without having to think too hard, why she’d really chosen this dress over the pantsuit.
She wished she had a way of knowing if Santino had gotten her message. If it had been relayed properly. If he’d even understood the plea she hadn’t known how to articulate, especially through a stranger. The desperation clawing at her insides barely made sense.
But it made as much sense as the idea of her father demanding her presence for the first time in thirteen years.
Reiko sighed and pulled her gaze outward. She’d dressed, she’d bandaged her thumb, she’d watered her flowers, she’d checked her pitiful email. The email had contained one kindly worded rejection and nothing else of note. She tried telling herself that was fine—it had been one of the many applications of desperation—but it felt as though the timing of everything was piling together. She was too nervous to eat, and so she sat. She was weirdly bored, terribly anxious, and beginning to wonder what would happen if she just got into her car and drove.
Who would chase her?
Who would make any effort to bring her back?
How long before her absence was actually noticed?
She had the skirt of the dress gathered beneath both fists in a death grip when someone knocked in a distantly familiar, insistent pattern on her door. The sudden intrusion of sound was loud and jarring and she leapt to her feet as if she’d been jolted.
The door flew open, and Reiko realized she’d forgotten to check the latch.
Then it didn’t matter, because Santino was swallowing up her vision as he strode straight for her.
Santino would. Immediately.She felt guilty for even having let the old insecurities, the familiar feeling of invisibility, creep into her mind.
His large, strong hands curled over her hips as he hauled her up to his chest and lowered his head. Their lips crashedtogether in a hard kiss, her desperation blending an urgency of his that had her clutching at the shirt over his back. His arms stretched around her as his tongue rolled along hers. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, dropped both hands to her butt, and squeezed.
Reiko gasped, and felt him grin as the kiss broke.
He slowly slid his hands back into place over her hips. “I heard about the summons,” he said, his voice rough with desire even as he tried to speak gently.
Tears stung the backs of her eyes. “That’s … that’s why you’re here?”
His expression softened. “You think I’d let you do something that questionable without me?” He kissed her nose. “I need you to hear me on something, beautiful.”
She nodded.
“You don’t ever have to do a goddamn thing thatanyman says, asks, or fucking demands of you again. Most especially not your father.” He removed one hand from her hip in order to prop his heel beneath her jaw, holding her steady. “So, if you don’t want to see him today, Luca is outside and ready to take you home—myhome, where you’ll be as safe as possible—while I deal with your father. All you have to do is say the word.”
She pulled her lips between her teeth. They’d talked enough about this subject that she understood what he meant in his offer. And she had determined she wasn’t upset at the notion. How could she be, after everything?
But, now, she also had questions. “If it’s my choice,” she said, her voice quiet but steady, “then I would like … to go with you.” She surprised when his brow furrowed. “More accurately, for you to come with me. If he’s expecting me, we can surprise him.”
“You understand it won’t be a pleasant chat?”
