“Again?” He rolled his eyes. “I want to find Ms. Ishika.”
“You mean you want to kill more fuckers?” I asked and he smiled. “You’ll have your chance once Lorenzo and I return from the island.”
I had a feeling that the storm heading my way was a Tsunami in the making.
sixty-seven
. . .
Ishika– 32 years old
When I vowed to stay away from Remo, it was with good intention, born from a need to protect us both. I might not have wanted a baby at first, so intent on finishing my residency, but the moment I discovered I was pregnant, every maternal instinct fired up to protect them with my life, which was why I ran.
Going back to Japan and recovering for the last three weeks under Uncle Haru’s gentle care proved to be soothing, a balm for the chaos I’d left behind.
After sending Remo a text last night, though, my love for him fought those feelings, determined to let him rule my life again. Not like I had a choice since I was carrying his child and the man suffered OCD like no other.
Obsessive. Consuming. Dominating.
Regardless, I chose to return to Boston and pursue the engagement with Ajay for two reasons, believing he’d make a more caring father than Remo while hoping it might help me get my brother back. But I knew Remo would never let another man take what belonged to him, and I wasn’t talking about the baby. His return text said as much.
Remo: You’re mine.
Defiant as always, I accepted Ajay’s invitation to dinner, certain that I was putting his life at risk if his initial confrontation with Remo was anything to go by.
Ajay chose a restaurant that looked like something out of a glossy magazine. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, pianist playing a soft melody, a place that whispered luxury, safety and devotion. The man had style. Pity, I didn’t want it willingly.
The moment I reached his table, a weird sensation floated down my spine. Almost like a portent to danger I should avoid.
Ajay stood to greet me, immaculate in a dark suit, smile gentle and warm as always. “Ishika,” he breathed. “You look beautiful.”
Waving aside my inhibitions, I forced a smile. “Seeing as I didn’t give much thought to what I should wear, that’s a compliment,” I tried for friendliness, but my reply came out all stiff and awkward, as if my mouth to filter decided it was betraying Remo.
He chuckled, soft and disarming. “Then I’m honored you still outshine the room without trying.”
I suddenly felt bad. “Sorry, that came out all wrong.”
“All good.” He pulled out a chair for me. “Sit.” I sank gracefully into the plush chair. “I’ve ordered wine but if it’s not to your liking, we can order something else.”
“Thank you.” I accepted the glass of red he held out, silently taking in the scene. We were seated at a private table tucked into a corner, a candle flickered between us, turning his features soft, charming. An almost perfect setting for lovers. About to take a sip, I remembered I shouldn’t be drinking and set the glass down.
“Something wrong?”
“Do you mind if I ordered a juice instead, I took some meds earlier, don’t want to mess with them.”
“Meds?”
“Just antibiotics,” I lied smoothly, the falsehood slipping out with the ease. “Still healing.” I’d mentioned the shooting to him when he called so as not to get his hopes up if he planned anything strenuous.
Ajay studied me for a moment, his gaze lingering on the untouched wine glass before he nodded, accepting the explanation. “Of course. Health comes first.” He signaled the waitress again, ordering sparkling water with lime and a glass of passion fruit. “We want you in peak condition for the wedding.”
The word hung in the air like a threat. Wedding. I forced a smile, nodding, but my mind drifted away from the candlelight and the soft piano melody. It drifted to blue eyes and rough hands. The way he’d looked at me the night of the shooting, the raw fear in his voice when he thought I was dying. It fought against the maternal instinct screaming at me to run, to protect the life growing inside me from his world. But God, I missed him. It was a physical ache, a hollow space in my chest that only he seemed to fit.
“Ishika?” Ajay’s voice cut through the fog. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
I blinked, realizing I’d been staring at the candlelight for too long. “Sorry,” I murmured, taking a sip of the water that somehow appeared, to hide the tremor in my hand. “Just tired.”
“You’re always tired,” he said, his tone sharpening slightly before he reached across the table, covering my hand with his. His palm was damp, his grip too tight, possessive in a way that made my skin crawl. “You need to let go of Remo. He’s dangerous, unstable.”
