Her father sat back in his worn leather chair, a familiar, severe frown bending his lips. He’d lost a fair amount of hair since Reiko had seen him last, but he seemed to be embracing the look. It was so well-structured, in fact, that she suspected he was exaggerating it. Was he still calling himself a “corporate samurai”?
It was hard to keep a straight face at the thought.
Osamu threaded his fingers together low over his lap. “You’ve disobeyed me, Reiko.” He spoke the words like a solemn lord on the precipice of ordering an execution. Then his gaze finally lefther, the glare softening to something more cautious. “And what’s this? I’d heard you were fired.”
“Relieved of her former position,” Santino countered, his tone misleadingly light. “Reiko was very surprised to get that text from you this morning, but she said you mentioned being worried about her future. So, I thought it’d be best if we came together and let you see for yourself that her future is secure.” He lifted his hand from the small of her back to curl his entire arm around her shoulders, keeping her tight at his side and dangling the tips of his fingers just a little lower than was decent on her chest. “In fact, I’d go so far as to say it’s fucking shining.”
Reiko hadn’t known it was possible to put such a terrifying threat into such optimistic, arguably brightly said words. But he’d done it. There was an undercurrent in Santino’s tone that built the more he spoke, taking his message from faux-casual to lethal and scathingly poignant without ever obligating him to speak of violence or lower his voice at all. If the man ever wanted to work behind the scenes, he’d make a killing in voice acting.
So, there was no rational explanation for the utterly inappropriate way her own body had responded while he spoke. Thank goodness she could get away with holding still for the next several seconds.
Her father’s eyes widened, but he didn’t find his voice fast enough to cover up Hiroto’s inelegant stammering. He cleared his throat roughly and spoke over his son’s nonsense in a hard, accusatory tone. “I do not know what you’re speaking of.” Osamu’s glare cut back to her. “I’ve not communicated with that disappointment in thirteen years.”
Hiroto took a half-step forward. “Mr. Guerra, if you’ve not come here to discuss business with my father, I’m afraid you’ll need to leave. My father is a busy man and has no time for games.”
Santino flicked the wrist of his free hand with less courtesy than he’d used to dismiss the maid the day before. “Overindulged dimwits should keep their yaps shut if they don’t want to be punished.”
Osamu surged to his feet, palms slamming on his desk. “How dare you—”
“Aren’t you the funny one?” Santino cut in, his hand dipping into a pocket as a low buzzing reached Reiko’s ears. “Everyone in this room knows you told Reiko you were expecting—no, my bad, that you weredemanding—she come see you this morning.” He swept his thumb across the screen of his phone while he spoke, barely seeming to glance at the display. Reiko couldn’t see it at all from her angle. Then he turned it wholly around, facing outward. “This is the driver you sent to collect her, isn’t it?” He clicked his tongue in a clear message of disapproval. “Lousy choice, Pops. Wanna bet I could find the tag on that cheap-ass rental suit this punk’s wearing if I zoomed it in?”
Reiko swept her gaze between the extended phone and her abusive relatives, watching as Hiroto went paler than she could remember and her father flushed with anger. She recognized that flush. It had never failed to precede an outburst that hurt her.
Osamu’s hands balled into fists, everything about his outward expression going hard. “I’ve never seen that man before, nor do I have any idea what you’re speaking of. As I said—”
“Yeah, I’m not interested in your bullshit,” Santino interrupted. He pulled his arm in and tapped a couple times on the screen again. “Let’s just clear this right up, then, shall we? Since we’re all here.”
Hiroto puffed. “What nonsense are you babbling?”
Ringing filled the air as Santino sent out a call, on speaker. While it rang, he said, “Oh, just proving a point.”
Whatever either might have said in response was cut off when the line connected. It took Reiko a moment to place the voice, but she recalled his name even as it fell from Santino’s lips. The man on the phone was Marco, and he’d sat outside her apartment for most of the previous day.
“Marco, put our guest on the line. I need a word.”
“Sure thing, Boss.” There was some shuffling, a muted curse in another male tone, and then the unfamiliar voice spoke.
“What kinda shit-fuckery is this? Hah? All I did was knock on some bitch’s door!”
Reiko pursed her lips. She didn’t doubt who the ‘bitch’ was in his scenario.
The faux-levity disappeared from Santino’s voice, a chilling aura rolling off him. “Surely you haven’t forgotten me, Sticky Fingers.”
There was a long beat of silence before the voice spoke again, a bit tighter and notably more reserved. “You know I hate that nickname.”
Santino shrugged. “Don’t blame me for your bad habits. Speaking of, let’s talk about today.”
“Like I said, all I did was—”
“Insult her again and Marco removes one of those thieving digits with the dullest butter knife he can find.” Santino paused for barely a second, his words for the phone but his glare lifting across the room. “And for good measure, he’ll have you swallow the fucking thing while it’s still bleeding.”
Hiroto gagged and turned aside, clamping a hand over his mouth as if the mere notion were too much.
Reiko couldn’t read her father’s expression at all. He’d turned completely to stone.
Santino adjusted the arm he still had over her shoulder, so that it was looped around and his hand was curled around the side of her arm rather than dangling over her breast. Still, he spoke intothe phone. “Now that we understand each other, I need you to tell me in explicit detail what you were hired to do today. Start to finish, spare no details—put emphasis on who hired you, please. Whatever money they still owe, I’ll double it for you to forget about all of this as soon as we’re done. How’s that sound?”
Sticky Fingers blew out a breath, the sound aggravated. “’s not like I give a shit about that old man or his stuck-up son. Sure. You pay me and I don’t even have to do the nasty part? Easy deal.”
