17. Vi
CHAPTER 17
VI
The rock music on Kenzo’s speakers is so loud, my chest vibrates with each beat. I’m pretty sure I recognize the song from a car commercial, but we never really had music growing up. If one of Patrick and Uncle Jay’s “friends” is obsessed with a particular musician, I’m in charge of learning the ins and outs of that artist and repurposing it into bite-size information for Patrick and Uncle Jay to regurgitate as needed. But this artist isn’t in my research repertoire.
“You like Boston?” Kenzo shouts over the music. “This is a good one. ‘More Than a Feeling.’ Love this shit!”
He hits the gas pedal, slamming me back into my seat, and he sings along at the top of his lungs. Somehow, even though the music is screeching through the audio system, I can hear him sing every word. He smiles at me, and I can’t tell if he’s pleased by the song, amused by me, or if I’m making a funny face.
We arrive at a tall building on Alta Drive across from the Suncoast Casino. The valets congratulate us, showering me with compliments, and though Kenzo is all charm, he waves them off and gives the lead a hefty tip. He ushers me into the private elevator.
Up at the top of the building, Kenzo scans a card on a keypad. “One day, we’ll get you a key. If I’m not here and you need to get in, use the front desk.”
The elevator doors open, leading to a small entrance lobby. Another scanner. Then, his penthouse.
Inside, everything is accented in black and white, and circular glass decorations hang from the ceiling like a modern chandelier. It’s futuristic and stunning, but it doesn’t quite fit Kenzo. He’s loud and vibrant, but there’s hardly any color here.
Am I reading him wrong, or is there something off about this place?
He hums to himself, going straight to a wet bar on the side of the living room.
“Did you pick out the decorations?” I ask.
“It came furnished,” he laughs. “I don’t bother with that. I’m always moving anyway.”
I know what that’s like. Uncle Jay, Patrick, and I have lived out of hotels for most of our lives, only keeping storage units if we have to. For us, it’s the lifestyle of pretending to be the person their “friends” want us to be. But when it comes to Kenzo, I’m not sure if he likes moving or if it’s because of his mafia background. Maybe it’s both.
The entire wall facing the Strip is covered in divided windows. The city lights are like a million different candles stacked on a mountainside. I gawk, my jaw hanging open. I want to take it all in.
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“It’s unlocked,” Kenzo says, nodding at the door to the balcony. “Go ahead.”
Outside, the breeze shifts my heavy dress, goosebumps rolling across my shoulders. I wrap my arms around myself, and the door closes behind me. Down below, a pool glows off to the side with a couple making out by the waterfall.
The ground is so far below us. It probably wouldn’t even hurt. It’d be instantaneous.
If I jump down, I’ll never have to wonder why I’m here.
The door clicks open behind me, and a tension churns in my stomach. Kenzo’s presence controls every nerve in my body. There’s something inside of him, a power rumbling through him that refuses to be contained. He’s dangerous, and if I admit it to myself, I’m curious.
I shouldn’t be intrigued by him. I should save myself while I still can. I should jump.
But I don’t want to.
Maybe Uncle Jay and Patrick have fun on their jobs too. Maybe that’s how they find success.
Maybe it’s okay if I indulge a little.
He hands me a glass of whisky. The liquid burns my lips, and it reminds me of our first kiss on the altar.
“How’d you even get this place?” I ask, trying to pull myself out of this lust-filled daze. It’s not a good idea to actually become attracted to your “friends,” otherwise, they’ll have sway over you. I’m just the researcher, but even I know that. I need to get information out of Kenzo as fast as I can, and I need to keep my head in the game. I continue: “It has to be worth a fortune to have a view like that.”
“It’s a rental,” he says.
I lean on the banister. “Did you kill the previous tenant or something?” I ask in a joking tone, but I’m actually serious. Maybe he funds this place with mob money.
“You don’t think we can make honest money?” he asks.
“Clean money? No. Dirty money?” I lift my shoulders, teasing him, but then I avert my gaze.
This is too much—too playful to be what I’m supposed to be.
He angles toward me, his presence like magnets pulling me closer, and he tucks a loose hair behind my ear. His touch zaps me straight to my core.
“Oh?” he says. “Tell me how you think I got here.”
I suck in a breath and give him my best smile. I’m not nervous—not like that anyway. We’re just flirting.
“I think you make a lot of money doing a lot of illegal things.” I lift my shoulders. “That’s what the Endo-kai does, right? Samurai Corporation seems like a legitimate business, but in the end, you’re just an organized crime group.”
His lips quirk in amusement. “Yes, we may have some less-than-savory business transactions, but it’s also wrong for your uncle to put his arm around another man’s wife,” he counters. “It’s even worse to offer his niece for an arranged marriage when he knows her new husband is a criminal.”
“And it’s illegal to accept his niece in a marriage contract for a minimal transgression,” I say. “Shouldn’t that qualify as human trafficking?”
I tap my chin, revealing my smart ass side. I know I shouldn’t, but there’s a spark inside of him that intrigues me. Even if it’s dangerous, I want to see the real him too.
“Your uncle paid his debt when he received our yakuza’s mark. No one is making you stay here,” Kenzo says. His voice is cold, but there’s a hint of pleasure glimmering behind his dark eyes. “I should punish you for forgetting.”
Heat pools between my legs. I think of Patrick at the reception, and how Kenzo wanted to talk to him privately. Based on his tone, I’m almost positive Kenzo said something to protect me from Patrick. No one, not even Uncle Jay, has done that for me before.
Even if he is from the mafia, I feel safe with Kenzo.
He grins down at me, like every bone in his body is full of amusement.
“Where’d my shy girl go?” he teases. “You like keeping a man on his toes, Vi?”
“I like a lot of things,” I say, shrinking behind my shoulders.
“Tell me, then,” he says. He pins me against the railing, caging me inside of his arms. “What does my little virgin like?”
Instead of answering, I take a long swig of whisky. The liquid burns my throat. I relish in the sensation and use it to distract me from my nerves.
He said the word “virgin” like he knows I’m not one. It’s a warning. A signal I should abort the mission right now.
But I don’t. I lick the whisky off my lips. His eyes follow my tongue.
“I think you’re a very bad man,” I say.
“But what are you, Vivian?” he asks. “Are you a good girl like your uncle claims you are?”
My full name on his tongue should annoy me, but it lights a fire inside of me. He presses his body against mine, and every thought melts away.
A chill runs through me. The only way I have to go is down, past the railing, falling to my death, and we both know it. He has me trapped.
But maybe I like it this way.
I bite my bottom lip, lowering my eyes to the buttons on his shirt.
This behavior isn’t me. I know who I am. I know what I’m worth.
I look him straight in the eyes, and a low growl emerges from his throat.
“I have a few rules I live by,” he says. “You can lie to anyone in the world, but you don’t lie to your family. Even as a kid, I told my parents when I left Los Angeles I wasn’t coming back. I kept to my word.”
My heart aches for his parents, but I don’t say that.
“Tomo isn’t your dad?” I ask.
“Not by blood.”
Everything clicks into place; maybe that’s why I’m drawn to Kenzo. I have no idea when Kenzo joined up with Tomo, but that means we were both raised by people who aren’t our biological parents.
His eyes trace me like he’s taunting me, like he wants to see if I will question his loyalty to Tomo and the Endo-kai, but I don’t. I’ve done so many terrible things for Uncle Jay and Patrick; why would I question what Kenzo is capable of when it comes to the Endo-kai?
“I’ll be honest with you,” Kenzo says. “I need a date for those events. Nothing more.” He flicks a finger between us. “This may not last. But it may be better for you that way. You already know I’m a bad man.” His tongue slithers over his lips. “But I will never lie to you, Vi. And I expect you to do the same for me.”
My stomach twists in knots. I’m almost positive coming clean and telling him I’m actually pretty experienced in bed—at least when I’ve got alcohol in my system—will make him like me more.
But then he’ll know Uncle Jay was lying, and our entire plan will unravel.
“What makes you think I’m not telling the truth?” I whisper.
“Tell me your truth.”
My eyelids flutter, and another growl rumbles through Kenzo’s chest. His cock twitches against me, and he presses our bodies together. I go to grip the railing, but he’s so close, I grab his hands instead. He’s warm. Rigid. Every nerve ending jumps at the physical contact, but I keep my hands there, on top of his.
Maybe he’s asking me to trust him. To believe him when he says he’ll keep me safe. And I want that so badly. Maybe it makes me sad, or even pathetic, but a home is what I’ve always wanted.
Safety. Stability. Love.
But marrying a man from the yakuza doesn’t guarantee any of that.
Kenzo drops his hands from the railing, letting me out of his cage. I’m not sure if I’m lightheaded from him or the booze, but my head spins, and I lean on the railing to keep myself from falling.
Kenzo sits in a deep cushioned wicker seat. It’s big enough for two people, but his legs are spread like he wants to take up space. Every heartbeat vibrates through my fingers.
“Come fuck me,” he orders.
I flush from head to toe. No one has ever said something like that to me before.
“Right now?” I ask.
“No. Tomorrow. After work.”
I laugh nervously. “Here?” I squeak. I point to the pool behind us. “There are people down there.”
“So what? You don’t like showing off?”
The idea of getting caught and shamed by an onlooker turns me on more than I care to think. Maybe it’s the way I was raised. Uncle Jay and Patrick always discouraged any crushes. When I kissed a man once, someone they weren’t targeting, they told me I was going to ruin our business if I got a disease or became pregnant.
The idea of doing something like this—so out in the open, and without alcohol blurring my senses—makes me boil with recklessness and freedom. Even if I’m still doing this for my family, it’s almost like I’m doing this for myself too.
I’m a researcher, and curiosity keeps leading me back to Kenzo.
Will he figure out I’m lying about my virginity? Will it matter to him? Or will he hate me for lying?
Why do I get the feeling that, right now, Kenzo just wants me?
I twist my fingers along the metal railing.
Maybe I should do what I want for once.
Maybe that’s what Kenzo wants too.