He leans back, exhaling slowly through his nose.
"But they just had to take the one that I loved," he says quietly. "They just had to touch my treasure. They had to touch the most valuable person in my life." His eyes meet mine, cold and empty. "So two months is not even enough to let out my rage of not being able to know where she was for two days."
The silence stretches between us, heavy and thick with tension. I nod slowly. "I understand."
And I do. Because men like us don't forgive. We don't forget. We take, and we destroy anyone who tries to take from us.
"My dad was the exact opposite," I say finally, pouring more whiskey into both our glasses. "In fact, my dad was determined to keep my mother out of mafia business. He acted like she was out of the country when we had meetings. Retired her from it all. It's a little more peaceful. And you could say it took time for my mother to come around." I pause. "Well, we know howwe handle all these things. Just make sure it doesn't affect your business."
Ryuji smirks. "I make no promises to Russians." I laugh. "Sure. Sure. Sure. Anyways, you'll be here for the party, right?"
"Yes. Of course," he says, lifting his glass. "I mean, I'm making enemies in Asia. Might as well make friends in Europe."
We clink our glasses together, the mood already brightening up. He leans back, studying me. "What about you? It seems you've been single for what, five years? No serious relationships. All we've been hearing are tales of you conquering land after land."
I swirl my drink, watching the amber liquid catch the light. "Oh, you know me. Nothing has piqued my interest for the last five years." I pause, a slow smile spreading across my face. "But now I do have something that interests me. Or when I say something, I mean someone."
Ryuji raises an eyebrow, waiting for more details.
I shake my head. "Well, enough about that. I don't get off on discussing my woman in front of other men."
He scoffs. "Possessive as always."
"Yes," I say simply.
"But I do have a little bit of a tip for you."
I lean forward. "Go on."
"That case you asked me to investigate," he says. "It's about that politician. I heard that he has a boy toy outside of the country. But my sources say he keeps moving from one place to another. We'll catch him eventually, and we'll send you his whereabouts. So, you can go collect what is owed."
I nod slowly. "And when I do that, you'll help us with our business. It's a mutual exchange, is it not?"
I lift my glass to my lips, sipping the alcohol as it burns down my throat. "Of course. A mutual exchange."
We drink in silence after that. The bass still thrums through the walls, smoke curling lazy between us. The weight of our words settles over the table like fog. Men like us don't make promises. We make deals. And we always collect.
Chapter 7
?
IRIS
I'm a firm believer in words of affirmation. Say what you want to the universe and it will hand it over eventually. Mother Nature is a feminist, and men love to downplay her after she kept their species alive for this long. Which is why, once in a while, I unwind properly.
With sunlight pouring gently from the small window in front of me I take a deep breath in. I keep a vase there with flowers so that sitting in this position like this I can breathe in the fresh scent of whatever flower I have in it currently. I open my eyes a little and note that I need to change the current batch.
Listening to meditation podcasts with candles around me is one of the few ways I reset after spending a whole week in a male-dominated environment. I don't know—men just drain you. When they get too close, it's like they suck the joy right out of you. Like vampires. Thank you, Olivia Rodrigo, for naming the enemy.
It's like the second they enter a room, the air quality drops and my soul starts leaking battery.
I inhale deeply as the podcast host Linda Kagrill starts chanting. I sit cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, hands on my knees.
"Release the burden of male expectations, you are powerful,"the woman on the podcast says in her calm and soothing voice."Men are emotionally draining. Say it with me: I am superior to men. Men are wicked. Men are stupid."
I breathe in and breathe out, starting to relax. The candles around me gives my room a soft glow, allowing for my mood to be sated. I get into the mood chanting and venting as a close my eyes. But we can't all have what we want, can we? A knock at my door, pulls me out of my calm phase.
I keep my eyes closed, trying to ignore it. "Ignore it," I whisper to myself. "Just like the Jehovah's Witnesses."
