Chapter 10 #2
She stripped off the rest of her exercise wear and finally stepped into the shower she’d let run too long.
Make yourself presentable, was it? Well, she certainly no longer owned a kimono, so he was going to have to tolerate something a little more Western.
Perhaps she’d greet him in a perfectly professional, modest and modern women’s pantsuit.
Santino tuned out his assistant’s babbling while he checked his phone again.
He’d texted Reiko on his way into the office, hoping it wasn’t too early to disturb her.
But the fact that she hadn’t even opened his message was making him twitchy.
He’d had the distinct impression she was an early riser.
And like it or not, he doubted he’d convinced her to abandon her search for a new job just yet.
So, he couldn’t understand why she would be away from her phone.
But the only other alternative was that she was ignoring him, and that made less sense.
They’d been good, more solid than he could have hoped for, when they’d parted the day before. He hadn’t heard word of any incidents overnight.
Her still sleeping under a different roof was already driving him insane. How was he supposed to protect her, to know she was safe and warm and comfortable and fucking happy, if there were miles between them?
“—sir? Mr. Guerra, sir, is there a problem?”
Santino blinked as the pitch in Irene’s voice shifted, alerting him to her closer proximity and heightened concern. He lowered his phone and tilted his head her way. “Sorry. Slow morning. Could you repeat that last part?”
Both of her brows hiked up to her hairline.
Instead of questioning him the way her stare suggested she wanted to, however, she jostled the file in her hands.
“We got the contract you’ve been waiting for, just last night.
I reviewed it personally and verified all your stipulations are included exactly to your specifications.
If you’re still satisfied, all we need to move forward is your signature. ”
Santino gave himself a mental shake and slipped his phone into a pocket in order to take the folder and pen she offered.
“Excellent,” he said, plastering on the toothy smile she would expect of him.
“Then as soon as this is with legal, you’ll need to jump on starting paperwork to acquire the site for the new location.
I don’t want their old stink on our re-brand.
” He flipped to the marked pages, scrawling his signature on the appropriate lines, and snapped the folder closed again. “You remember my property preferences?”
Irene nodded. “Of course, sir. I can take official steps the moment the contract is final—”
“Boss,” Armando cut in, stepping away from his shadowed spot against the wall as if he’d just appeared in the room.
It was a handy trick he’d developed. A trick Santino barely took note of, other than noticing the way Irene jumped in place, because the urgency in Armando’s voice assured Santino there was a problem.
Santino twisted to face him, smile forgotten.
Armando met his gaze. “A message came through for you, from Miss Matsunaga.”
Santino’s hand dipped into his pocket, curling around the phone he knew damn well had been silent and still. What the hell was going on?
Armando strode closer and held out his phone. The message had come via text, from the man on early shift outside her apartment. And the more Santino read, the hotter his blood burned.
He’d read her father’s file over breakfast. He knew present-day Osamu Matsunaga indisputably better than Reiko did. Arguably better than Reiko ever had, considering. Then there was the fact that he himself had been born and fucking bred mafia.
He knew a threat when he heard one.
Santino met Armando’s knowing stare. “Call the car around.”
“Got it.”
Irene squeaked, the sound strangling out of her. “A-ah, sir— Mr. Guerra, please don’t say you’re stepping out again. You were gone all day yesterday and—”
Santino turned only enough to level a hard look on her.
She was good at the job he paid her for, but largely because he deliberately kept her in the dark, she was sometimes a major pain in his side.
“You have your orders. It’s not like I need to be sitting in that office breathing recycled air for eight hours every day to make this company run.
You can handle the meeting, and if you need backup, bring it.
But I’ve got other important business, so yes, Irene, I’m leaving.
Don’t expect me back today. Don’t promise my availability tomorrow.
Leave me voicemails the same as usual if you need to. ”
He didn’t wait for her to pick her jaw up off the floor before striding toward the main elevator. The words he’d read on the screen rolled on a loop through his mind.
She was trying to hide it, but she was pretty freaked out.
Asked me to get a specific message to the boss ASAP: Her father is demanding an audience this morning.
She is to be, “picked up and hauled around like a doll” in ninety minutes or less.
Says she broke her phone and won’t have a means of communication until after.
And it’s just my opinion, but it doesn’t sound like a good scene.
Santino cracked his neck as the elevator descended. “Call a team together. It looks like I’ll be meeting my father-in-law today, and call it a hunch, but I don’t think he’s gonna like me.”
Armando nodded. “Should we move Miss Matsunaga to a safehouse?”
“No. I’ll talk to her, see if she wants to say goodbye or not.
If she chooses not”—Santino leveled his gaze on Armando to make sure his words were heard—“she is to be ushered to home, where she has free reign, and the house itself locked down until my return. Luca will remain in charge of her security if it comes to that.”
“Understood.”
Santino fell silent again while Armando sent out his orders.
The elevator released them and Santino rushed forward without waiting for his guard to slip ahead, familiar grumblings falling on deaf ears.
All he cared about was getting to Reiko’s side before her father could hurt her more.
There wasn’t a shred of doubt in his mind that hurting her was at the top of the day’s agenda for that piece of shit.
Reiko couldn’t bring herself to wear the pantsuit.
She tried telling herself it was because the pantsuit would be better served for job interviews, and she couldn’t afford to assume she didn’t still need to be looking for those.
So, she had chosen a seasonally appropriate wrap-style dress.
The dress was calf-length, long-sleeved, with a lightly scooped collar that didn’t show even a hint of cleavage, and tied over her scarred hip.
It did have a split where the fabric intentionally failed to overlap on one side, up to her knee.
She’d probably push the sleeves up to her elbows before she got to the meeting, too.
Her father wouldn’t care for those details, or the casual vibe of the cream-colored, floral-patterned dress.
That was too bad. It was the best he would get. She wasn’t going to dress herself up like she was attending a wedding. Although, for a reason she could not define, it did sort of feel like she was preparing herself for her own funeral.
Her fingers paused as they trailed over one of the flowers printed into the fabric.
The flowers were shades of blue, varying from faded and light to as dark as indigo.
Most, like the one beneath the tip of her finger, were brighter and more vibrant.
And she knew, without having to think too hard, why she’d really chosen this dress over the pantsuit.
She wished she had a way of knowing if Santino had gotten her message. If it had been relayed properly. If he’d even understood the plea she hadn’t known how to articulate, especially through a stranger. The desperation clawing at her insides barely made sense.
But it made as much sense as the idea of her father demanding her presence for the first time in thirteen years.
Reiko sighed and pulled her gaze outward.
She’d dressed, she’d bandaged her thumb, she’d watered her flowers, she’d checked her pitiful email.
The email had contained one kindly worded rejection and nothing else of note.
She tried telling herself that was fine—it had been one of the many applications of desperation—but it felt as though the timing of everything was piling together.
She was too nervous to eat, and so she sat.
She was weirdly bored, terribly anxious, and beginning to wonder what would happen if she just got into her car and drove.
Who would chase her?
Who would make any effort to bring her back?
How long before her absence was actually noticed?
She had the skirt of the dress gathered beneath both fists in a death grip when someone knocked in a distantly familiar, insistent pattern on her door. The sudden intrusion of sound was loud and jarring and she leapt to her feet as if she’d been jolted.
The door flew open, and Reiko realized she’d forgotten to check the latch.
Then it didn’t matter, because Santino was swallowing up her vision as he strode straight for her.
Santino would. Immediately. She felt guilty for even having let the old insecurities, the familiar feeling of invisibility, creep into her mind.
His large, strong hands curled over her hips as he hauled her up to his chest and lowered his head.
Their lips crashed together in a hard kiss, her desperation blending an urgency of his that had her clutching at the shirt over his back.
His arms stretched around her as his tongue rolled along hers.
He sucked her tongue into his mouth, dropped both hands to her butt, and squeezed.
Reiko gasped, and felt him grin as the kiss broke.