Chapter 13
Augusto
Knowing I’ll spiral if I keep thinking about things, I force myself to my feet to shower and change into a pair of jeans and a sweater.
With a comfortable pair of loafers on my feet, I leave my bedroom. As I head down the stairs, I wonder if I should make dinner for Yuki. She didn’t eat much at the reception.
The aroma of grilled steak hits me when I reach the first floor, and walking through the open-space foyer, I stop by the entrance to the kitchen.
Yuki’s changed into a dress that barely covers her ass.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean my shoulder against the doorjamb, watching as my brand-new wife prepares food.
There’s a slight frown line between her eyes as she concentrates on mashing the boiled potatoes.
She slips her foot out of the ballet flats and wiggles her toes before shoving it back into the shoe.
“Are the shoes uncomfortable?” I ask.
Yuki lets out a shriek, and a streak of mashed potatoes flies through the air. I have to move fast to avoid the utensil as it sails past me before dropping to the floor in the foyer.
She has good aim.
Looking at Yuki, I see the blood drain from her face. Her eyes are locked on me, her breath speeding up.
Not thinking, I move toward her, and just like in the hangar, she lets out a scared whimper while shaking her head wildly.
I stop dead in my tracks. “I’m not going to hurt you, Yuki.”
Approaching her slowly, I try to soften my expression as much as possible. By the time I reach her, her breaths are audibly racing over her lips, and she squeezes her eyes shut as if she’s bracing for a punch.
Unable to stop myself, I pull her against my chest and wrap my arms around her. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, another heavy sigh escapes from me for what feels like the hundredth time today.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I repeat.
She feels so small, and as she trembles in my hold, it chips away at my heart.
When Yuki remains tense, I give up and let go of her. She quickly moves backward to put space between us, a cautious light in her eyes.
We stare at each other for a moment, and I wish there were a way I could make her believe that she’s safe with me, but it’s only day one. Yuki knows nothing about me except for what she’s experienced.
As I reach for the paper towels, she flinches, but when I begin to wipe up the streak of mashed potatoes from the granite top of the island, she shoots into action.
Yuki rushes around the kitchen, picking up the utensil before mopping up the mess left on the floor. When she returns to preparing the meal, there’s a flash of pain on her face.
“Take off the shoes,” I say, my tone a little too harsh.
She carries out the order as I walk closer to her. Crouching beside her, I check her ankles, and when I see the blisters, a growl rumbles from my chest.
As I straighten up, Yuki ducks her head and pulls up her shoulders, once again bracing for a slap.
Her reactions to me have a direct link to a chisel that chips away at my heart every time she flinches.
I take hold of her hips, and lifting her off the floor, I turn around and set her down on the island.
I grab a couple of Band-Aids from the cupboard where I keep the vitamins and cold meds Mom constantly restocks. She always complains when medication expires without me using it, and no matter what I say, she keeps buying it.
When I return to Yuki, I notice how she’s tugging at the hem of the dress, trying to cover her thighs and clearly feeling uncomfortable.
“Don’t you have anything else to wear?”
She shakes her head, but then pauses to say, “Lingerie.”
As I stare at his daughter, I wish I could kill Tanaka.
I take a seat on the stool by Yuki, and carefully, I stick the Band-Aids over the blisters.
Once I’m done, I get up and head straight for her bedroom. I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Mom’s number while I check the clothes in the walk-in closet.
“I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon!” Mom says as she answers the call. “Is everything okay?”
“Can you take Yuki shopping tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
I shake my head as I stare at the new dresses and shoes.
“Redo her entire wardrobe and also get her a phone. She has my credit card. Go crazy, Mom. Buy her everything you think she needs.”
“Is it that bad?” Mom asks.
“Yuki only has super short dresses, and her shoes give her blisters.” I glance over all the lace. “And no comfortable underwear.”
“I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry.” Mom pauses for a few seconds, then asks, “How is she doing?”
“She’s terrified of me. I’ve told her repeatedly I won’t hurt her, but she doesn’t believe me.”
“It’s going to take a long time, Augusto. You need to be patient with her.”
“I know.”
“Wait, your dad wants to talk to you.” I listen as Mom hands the phone over, then Dad says, “Hey, son.”
“Hi, Dad.”
I begin to pace up and down the closet, and every few steps, my eyes touch on the neatly packed shelves and dresses.
“How are you holding up?”
“It’s difficult. I don’t know what to do to set Yuki at ease. I think I should move in with one of the guys and give her space.”
“Don’t do that. Yuki needs to be around you so she can see you won’t hurt her. You’re married and have to get to know each other.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” I take a deep breath before saying, “She’s only twenty-two.”
“So?”
“I’m ten years older than her.”
“Son, there’s a nine-year age gap between your mother and me. It’s just a number and should be the least of your worries.”
I forgot about that.
“Maybe it bothers me because she looks so fucking young,” I admit.
“You made the decision to marry this woman, Augusto. Get to know her and find some common ground you can work with. Don’t treat her like she’s broken but like the woman you’re going to spend the rest of your life with.”
“Easier said than done,” I grumble.
“When your mother found out I tricked her, she gave me hell for weeks. I didn’t back down but kept fighting because losing her wasn’t an option.”
Mom jumps in to say, “Don’t listen to your father. He went about it the wrong way, and it’s not the same for you and Yuki. Be gentle with her and show her who you really are.”
Nodding, I walk out of the bedroom. “Okay. I have to go. Yuki made dinner.”
“Oh, that’s nice of her. Try to enjoy the evening. Ask her about herself and try to find out what she likes and dislikes.”
“Okay.”
“We love you.”
“Love you, too,” I reply before I end the call.
When I walk into the kitchen, there’s no sign of Yuki and only one plate with steak, mashed potatoes, and corn on the cob.
Maybe she’s eating already?
I head to the dining room, and finding it empty, I go to the living room. When I still don’t find Yuki, worry slithers into my chest.
Just as I turn around so I can check the other two floors, I hear retching coming from the restroom.
Fuck. Did I upset her so much that she’s puking?
The door is ajar, and I nudge it open. Yuki’s face is ghostly pale and sweat shimmers on her skin. Her eyes widen when she sees me, but before she can panic, she leans over the toilet. The gagging coming from her sounds painful, and I quickly move closer.
When I brush her hair away from her face and press my palm to her forehead, she lets out a weak whimper.
“Are you allergic to anything you ate today?” I ask.
She shakes her head, and her eyes look feverish as she settles back on her haunches. “I think the food was too rich, and the champagne made it worse. I’ve been eating steamed rice to lose weight.”
I flush the toilet before picking her up.
As I carry her to her bedroom, I clench my jaw because I already know the answer as I ask, “Only steamed rice?”
Yuki nods, and too weak to even tense up around me, her head rests against my shoulder, then she whispers, “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing for everything,” I say, my tone harsh from the anger brewing in my chest.
“I have to wash the dishes,” she mumbles sleepily.
“We have a dishwasher.” I focus on softening my tone. “I want you to get rest so your stomach can settle.”
When I place her down on her bed, her eyes drift over my face, then she asks, “You’re not angry with me?”
“Of course not.” Noticing her dress isn’t covering her ass, I grab the covers and quickly drape them over her lower half. “Try to get some rest.”
Yuki keeps staring at me, and it has me sitting down on the side of the bed. Unable to resist the urge, I gently caress her hair the way Mom does with us when we’re sick.
Yuki’s features tighten, and as she keeps her eyes locked with mine, hers begin to shine with unshed tears.
“Everything will be okay,” I say, trying to reassure her. “Tomorrow, my mom will take you shopping for everything you need. Choose clothes and shoes you’re comfortable with.”
“I’m used to wearing men’s clothes,” she admits, her voice small and fragile.
“If that’s what you want to wear, I’m fine with it. Do you want to wear some of my clothes in the meantime?”
She quickly shakes her head. “Thank you for the offer, but you’re twice my size. Nothing will fit.”
Wanting to get to know her better, I ask, “For how long did you pretend to be a man?”
“Since my brother and I were separated. I was eleven.”
My eyebrow lifts. “Why did you pretend to be your brother, and where is he?”
Instantly, Yuki shuts down and lowers her eyes from mine.
At least she spoke a little more than just saying sorry the whole time.
I get up, and leaving the room, I head back to the kitchen.
Seeing the plate of food, I stare at it for a moment, and hoping to God it’s not poisoned, I warm it in the microwave before I sit down at the island.
Here goes nothing.
I cut a piece of the steak off and take a bite. Even though I had to reheat the food, the steak is juicy and done to perfection.
As I enjoy the meal Yuki prepared, I worry about her health. No one can survive on rice.
Pulling my phone out again, I call Dr. Milazzo.
“Yes, Mr. Vitale. What can I do for you?”
“My wife is malnourished. She’s only survived on steamed rice for the past three months. That can’t be healthy, right?”
“Jesus, no!” His worried tone sends shivers racing over my body. “You have to bring her to the hospital, or if that’s not possible, I can come over. Are you at home?”
“Yes. Bring everything you’ll need.”
We end the call, and ignoring the half-eaten food, I rush out of the kitchen and jog back to Yuki’s room.