Chapter 18
DEAN
I wait for Sachi for what feels like an eternity.
In reality, it’s not long at all, but every drawn-out second etches away at my nerves.
I steal repeated glances toward the doorway where Sachi will appear—something that could easily come off as rude, considering I’m also in the middle of talking to important donor guests.
It’s important that they feel appreciated.
Their money is very appreciated, and I’d like to keep it flowing.
My distracted obsession with the opposite end of the room isn’t a great look, but I can’t help it.
I have an irrational fear that if I don’t lay eyes on Sachi soon, she might disappear—totally ridiculous considering there’s no exit down that hallway.
My brain doesn’t care. It worries that she’ll find a way out, and I’ll lose her forever.
I do my best to suppress my fears and exchange pleasantries with a few new arrivals.
When the moment does finally arrive, and Sachi rounds that corner, the excruciating wait is instantly forgotten.
I’m literally winded by her beauty, especially the radiant smile that lights her face the instant our eyes meet.
Fuck, this woman pulls strings in me I didn’t know existed.
I excuse myself from the older woman I’m visiting with and go to Sachi.
“If you were any more stunning, I’d worry for the cardiac safety of the elderly men in this room.”
Sachi drops her gaze as she gives a small laugh. “I suppose it’s good I didn’t let the stylist spend overly long on my hair and makeup.”
“Your sacrifice has saved lives, madam.” I give her a playful, pointed look, then lean in close and whisper, “In all seriousness, Sachi, you are absolutely ravishing.” I place an earnest kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.”
“For what?” she asks in a breathless whisper.
“For hearing me out. For the opportunity to earn a second chance. I made some horrible assumptions about you, and my behavior was an embarrassment. You’d be justified in refusing to give me the time of day, but I’m grateful that’s not the case, and I promise to do everything in my power to redeem myself. ”
Sachi nods. I get the sense she’s choked up and pray it’s a good thing. I’ve said my piece, and now it’s time to follow through.
I step to her side and rest my hand at the base of her spine. “Shall we grab some champagne and take a seat?”
“That sounds perfect.”
The thing about Sachi is, when she smiles, she radiates joy and kindness. Her genuineness is a rare and precious quality that makes me want to snatch her up and keep her all to myself. So rare that my cynicism easily convinced me she was a master manipulator when I saw her at Sante’s apartment.
I hate that I leaped to such a conclusion without any attempt at questioning the situation.
I’m a fucking detective, for God’s sake.
I work hard not to make assumptions. Every day is spent focusing on facts and evidence.
Her presence at his place was hardly concrete evidence of a master plot, yet I had no trouble latching onto the story with a death grip.
It’s a lesson I won’t soon forget.
Questions before assumptions.
Curiosity over judgment.
And where Sachi is concerned, always give her the benefit of the doubt. I’d be a fool to do otherwise.
“You carved that?” The older woman with salt-and-pepper hair gapes bright-eyed at Sachi from across the table.
Sachi nods, her cheeks tinged with an adorable pink flush. She’s modest. I wouldn’t say she’s uncomfortable with people praising her talents, but she definitely doesn’t seek the attention. Hopefully, she won’t mind my need to brag on her.
“If you think that’s impressive, you should see what she can do with clay. Absolutely incredible.”
Sachi raises a surprised brow at me.
I return the gesture, confirming that yes, I’ve done my research.
Her answering smile says, I should have known.
I drop my chin a fraction. Indeed.
Oblivious to our silent conversation, the woman across from us continues.
“I wouldn’t even know where to begin. You know, I went to see the statue of David, and the museum has an amazing display showing the stages Michelangelo would have used to carve it.
It’s wild when you see it like that. This giant block of marble, and he somehow chips away until there’s this perfect man—as if David had been there hiding in the stone all along. Absolutely incredible.”
“Well, I’m no Michelangelo,” Sachi hurries to say.
The woman’s husband nudges his finished dinner plate forward and lifts his wineglass.
“You don’t have to be Michelangelo to have an amazing talent.
Consider yourself lucky. Some of us have the creative wherewithal of a fruit fly.
If I didn’t have Leslie here to pick my clothes, I’d probably have to tell people I was color blind. ”
His wife waves him off with a delighted chuckle, then turns back to Sachi. “I’d love to hear more about how you learned to sculpt. Is it something you were just born doing, or did you develop a love of it later?”
“Actually, it sort of started with food. My parents came to the US from Japan, where my mother learned Tibetan flower butter art. For her, it was a fun hobby, but I really took to it. I started carving all kinds of stuff in butter. Fortunately, my parents were super supportive and encouraged me to pursue my passions. They sent me to all kinds of art classes, but sculpting has always been my favorite medium.”
“Oh, how wonderful.” She takes out her reading glasses from her beaded clutch purse and opens her phone.
“You know I have to look up this butter art. I’m not familiar, and if I don’t do it now, I’ll forget.
” She taps at the screen with a single finger while her husband leans in for a look.
“Oh, my word, that’s gorgeous! I love the colors.
I can’t believe I’ve never heard of this before.
I can’t wait to tell the ladies at bridge next week. ”
A server begins collecting empty plates to prepare for the dessert portion of the meal. The table of eight breaks into several smaller conversations. I take the opportunity to lean over and check in with Sachi.
“You need anything?”
She gives me a funny look. “Like what?”
I shrug. “Anything at all. If you’re cold, I’ll give you my jacket. If you’re thirsty, I’ll bring you water.”
Another delicate blush warms her cheeks. “And if I’m tired?”
“I’ll make our excuses and escort you home, tuck you into bed, and give you a kiss good night.”
“Just a kiss?” she whispers, peering up at me through her lashes.
My heart thuds in my chest. “Just a kiss.”
“What if I want more?”
Fuck, this woman is going to make me hard in the middle of dinner.
“Then it’ll be the one and only time I refuse you.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I need you to want to see me again.” And because I want her to know I’m interested in her and not just the sex. I told myself that this time around I wouldn’t fuck this up, and that means showing I possess a modicum of restraint.
“Lure me back with the promise of sex?”
“Whatever it takes,” I say without a hint of humor. “I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.”
Sachi bites her lip and nods. “We can talk about it later,” she says quietly.
Her comment unsettles me, but I’m not going to push for an explanation. I’ll have to respect her wishes and wait until the time is right.
Dessert looks way too fancy to eat. A slice of cheesecake would have been better to me, but Sachi seems to enjoy it, and that’s all that matters.
As the final course wraps up, I go to the podium to thank everyone for coming and make the final call for bids on the silent auction.
Any gathering in the name of the charity is always a fundraiser in one way or another.
Once the evening is over, I help Sachi collect her things and lead her to the building’s entrance.
Before we step outside to the valet, I slip my tux jacket over her shoulders, just as I did at the ball.
I could have had a designer coat brought with the dresses, but I gave myself that one selfish act because if the night went well, I desperately wanted to see her in my jacket again.
And now that it’s happened, my chest puffs full of pride.
I drive Sachi home as promised and walk her up to her apartment. I even make sure there’s no one waiting for her inside, since I know how easily that can happen.
“I had a really lovely evening, Dean. Thank you.”
“It was the least I could do.” I palm her cheek and graze my thumb across her smooth skin.
“Is this when I get my kiss?”
“Tell me I can see you again, Sachi.” The words are a coarse plea. I wonder if I’ve been too gruff when she grazes her teeth over her bottom lip and lowers her gaze.
“I can’t give up my friends, Dean. I really like you, and I want to see you again, but I can’t if it means losing them.”
“I’d never ask you to do that.”
Her gaze snaps back to mine. “Really?”
“Absolutely. Loyalty, even among thieves, is still honorable. I respect that they’re important to you. And besides, I’d never admit it to them, but those guys are far from the worst criminals I’ve come across.”
“But what about your job? What if word gets out that you’re associated with the Morettis? Even if only loosely?”
“People are gonna think what they want to think. You don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, I promise.”
“And what about my friends? You can’t use me to get evidence on them. I’ll never forgive you.” The stern look she gives me makes the corners of my lips twitch with the need to bellow a laugh.
I hold up my right hand in oath. “So long as they don’t pull out a gun and kill someone right in front of me, I swear I’m not going after them. There are plenty of worse criminals in the city to hunt down.”
Again, she chews at her lip as though mulling over what I’ve said.
“Is it my turn?” I ask in a low rumble.
“Your turn for what?”
“To ask if this is when I get my kiss.”
Her answering grin is magnificent. “Yes, please.”
“Sachi Asano, can I have a kiss?”
“Yes,” she breathes.
Fuck.
Yes.
I cup my hand around the back of her neck and hug her close with my other arm, then bring my lips to hers in a sensual promise. An unhurried apology sealed with a pledge to be the best man I can be for her.
There are no guarantees in life. Only time will tell if this will work out, but I want to try because this incredible woman is carving out a place in my heart with every minute we spend together. And this thing between us has only just begun.