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I’m a high school dropout, but even I know that means yes.

I don’t say anything else. Speaking isn’t something I want to do with the man. I want to hit him. I want to cause pain. I want blood. Instead, for now, I restrict myself to showing him all the menace I possess while I continue to stare him down. The men around us move, unsettled by the atmosphere I’m causing. The tension builds as neither of us looks away.

“Enough,” her grandfather commands with a sharp tone that has his son lowering his eyes.

I’m not under his control, and I let my gaze continue to linger on someone I see as my prey. Only when I’ve decided I’m done do I look at her grandfather.

“Takahashi-san.” The woman who brought in the kimono for Natalie’s gift slips to the side of the old man and bows. But she doesn’t rise till he nods. Only then does he accept the paper she hands him before leaving the room.

I look at Natalie, who just gives me a half shrug before putting what looks like orange poo on a bed of spikes into her mouth.

I don’t hold back my look of disgust.

“Try it,” she mumbles around her food as the rest of the room goes back to ignoring us.

Looking at the offensive food on my plate, I contemplate it for a second. Even manage to touch it with my chopsticks.

“Nope.”

I pick up the plate and tilt it in her direction, scooping the goop onto hers.

She giggles, and it’s the only sound I focus on. Especially since it’s the only one to be heard as the room has gone silent once again.

But I’m not embarrassed that I must have broken some kind of stupid rule about sharing food here or not eating something that looks like crap on my plate. If it makes Natalie smile, then it makes me happy as I take her in.

She has always been beautiful. Seen it with my own eyes quite often. In gym clothes, beaten up, and even in a cocktail dress. But this? Her knowing who she is to me? Her smiling openly at me?

Sure, the dress—crimson red, pulled tight against her, with thin spaghetti straps holding her handful of breasts inside—has had my blood boiling since she stepped out of the bathroom wearing it.

I bet someone here considers it simple, but to me, it looks like a million bucks.

But that could just be the girl in it.

“The wedding is set for noon.”

My eyes shoot to her father, who’s staring hard at us with a deep glare.

“Hiroshi.” Takahashi-san purses his lips at his son but says nothing more.

“I thought we talked about this, Taka,” I cut in. “Natalie is already taken.”

“Insolence!” Hiroshi stands and points an accusatory finger at me. To which I only raise an eyebrow and side-speak to Natalie without looking away from her father.

“Was it the part about you being taken or me calling you by your real name and not a made-up one that he objects to?”

“It was the use of my name,” Takahashi-san says with a hard tone. “You clearly do not understand our customs. It is a big insult to speak of a man like that. Our surnames were handed down by many brave souls. To disrespect my name is to disrespect my ancestors.”

I think on it for a second.

“Sorry.” He nods at my apology. “But only for that.” I’ll never apologize for Natalie being mine.

“Barbra will be married,” Hiroshi seethes.

“Mou ii. Sono yobikata wa omae jishin no haji ni naru. Sagare.” Takahashi-san doesn’t even look at his son when he talks, but Hiroshi’s eyes widen at his words. A second later, he bows to his father and exits the room.

I glance at Natalie, who also looks stricken.

“What did I miss?”