She felt a little awkward saying all of that to a man she couldn’t say she knew, but she hoped it got her point across. Her biological connection to a smaller, less successful and therefore barely competitive company was absolutely the only angle of interest Guerra could possibly have. She needed him to understand that if her father could have had her DNA severed from his without the stain of murder on his hands, he’d have done so the moment she was born.
For a lingering moment, she debated sending another text with exactly that thought.
Reiko blew out a breath and let the phone drop onto the closed lid of her laptop. She was already exhausted.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when her phone began vibrating aggressively on her laptop, practically bouncing across the surface. Not only was the sound jarring, but the insistent pattern confirmed what her eyes were telling her—it wasn’t a text. And while she hadn’t saved the number, she’d seen it too recently not to recognize it.
Guerra was calling.
Panic shot through her.He wasn’t supposed to call me!
Her first instinct was to ignore it—maybe toss the phone across the room for good measure. But she’d literally just texted him. He would know. And he’d already proven himself capableof showing up at her door unannounced. So, Reiko scooped up her phone and dragged her thumb across the screen, all the while telling herself she wasn’t making a huge mistake.
Still, she could hear her own anxiety in her voice when she pushed out the greeting. “Hello…?”
“I’ve gone through more than a dozen responses since I read your message,” Guerra said immediately. His voice was unusually gruff. “Do you really mean to tell me that your own father would turn his back on you if you needed him? Even if something horrible happened? Which, for the record, is not my intention. My interest in you has absolutely nothing to do with Osamu Matsunaga and his failing company. ButbecauseI’m interested in you, Reiko, I need to know the answer. I need you to clarify it for me.”
For as articulate as his words were, it struck Reiko oddly that his overall statement felt like it was all over the place. She pictured him gesticulating angrily as he talked.
Then something he’d said finally registered and she gasped. “Failing?”
Guerra let out a low, short-lived growl. “As in steady decline in reported revenue. And I will make it my new mission to sink his fucking ship if he’s hurt you.” He drew an audible breath and his next words were slightly calmer. “Answer me, Reiko.”
Her heart fell out of its safe rhythm again, beating too loudly through her system. She didn’t understand his response. She didn’t know what to make of his words. She could practically feel his intensity over the phone, yet it was an intensity she struggled to picture in him. And it was a response she had supposedly roused in him. It didn’t make sense.
She had no idea what to say.
She licked her lips and leaned into habit. “I’m sorry. It sounds like I’ve upset you, and that wasn’t—”
“Stop.”
She clamped her lips shut and the breath stalled in her throat.
“Yes, I’m upset,” Guerra said. “I’m fucking furious at the idea that your father has mistreated you, ever, let alone continues to. But I don’t want your apologies, beautiful. You don’t owe me any. Not a single goddamn one. I just need an explanation. Can you give me that?”
Sweat beaded on her skin as she listened to his words. She heard what he was asking for, but he had no idea how difficult a subject it truly was.
Why did she have to tell him, anyway?
Reiko exhaled slowly and slid the laptop from her lap, setting it aside and freeing herself to move. She couldn’t handle feeling bogged down just then. “Respectfully, Mr. Guerra, I don’t think you do need to hear my sordid life story. It’s personal and not something I tell to most people.” She’d struggled to get through it even in therapy, after all. “But put simply, no, he hasn’t hurt me. And it’s not a matter of ‘would he turn his back on me’ because we’re already quite thoroughly estranged. We don’t even communicate to remember my mother.”
A heavy silence held over the line, and if it weren’t for the sound of his hard breathing, Reiko might not have been sure Guerra was still connected. Then, finally, he said, “So you don’t trust me well enough yet to tell me.”
She almost winced. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought he sounded disappointed. All she could offer, however, were honest words. “For what it’s worth, I don’t tell anyone.”
“I’m sure you have someone.”
Reiko shrugged on reflex. “I’ve talked it out in therapy in the past,” she admitted, “but I’m not in therapy actively. So no, not right now.”
Again, Guerra was quiet for several seconds. “You don’t share with your bestie? Favorite online friend? Anyone like that?”
Her lips twitched. “Are you fishing for information about my social life, Mr. Guerra?”
Without missing a beat, he replied, “You would already have said if you had a romantic partner, and I would already have told you to dump them. Right now, I’m trying to teach you to be more open with me, beautiful. Everyone has someone they talk to.”
Her amusement fled. He hadn’t meant to, she was sure. Most people didn’t recognize how presumptive they often were. “I have a father and a younger brother who’ve disowned me, and I them. I have a mother who died five years ago yesterday. And I have an exercise bike that is the best, most non-judgmental friend a girl could ask for. What I do not have is a ‘bestie’, or even a social media profile with which to make online friends, or ‘anyone like that.’” It was a bit snippy, but it was honest.
Somehow, Guerra’s voice was softer when he spoke again after a momentary pause. “You have me.”
