Chapter Seven
RIVER
Ileave the bathroom with a towel around my neck. It took me one hour from Moretti’s luxurious apartment to mine, but I needed time to think.
I only pull on a pair of gray sweats, leaving them low on my hips. My head is still immersed in thoughts as I start to towel-dry my hair. I feel lighter, like the massive boulder that I have been carrying over my shoulders for years has been removed.
I saw my little brother. And he could see me.
Really see me. With his own eyes. I knew he regained his sight years back—I paid for the operation—but having him in front of me, those big eyes clearly watching me was such a shock.
He wasn’t repulsed by my scarred appearance, nor angry over my absence.
He was upset at first, but then I witnessed his happiness, so much that he cried.
We both did. I smile at the memory. He still tilts his head to one side when he’s embarrassed and turns bright red from his neck up.
His fingers are as light as I remember and his skin looks as pale as a ceramic doll.
But a bitter-sweet taste lingers in my mouth. Joel is fine, but how fine can he be living with a mobster? With all the danger always swirling around? Was all my effort in keeping him safe for nothing?
Can’t change what I did, anyway. I look at my reflection in the bedroom mirror. The past is like my scars; they can turn faint, but they will never fade away.
Joel seems already too deep in the organized crime world. I didn’t ask him about his friendship with Arturo Enzino, since only hearing the surname made Moretti and Nero tense—the in-war between the families must be getting worse.
Moretti. I can’t believe Joel is in love with such a vicious mobster. The same man who killed our abusive father—I finally have a name to put to that face. I have feelings for a ruthless yakuza prince, so I can’t judge. I’m just worried. Joel has always been softer, big-hearted, too trusting.
Fate. That’s how Aki described our first meeting, even though I later found out that he made it happen. The same goes for Joel and Moretti. Does that mean we are destined or doomed to be together?
What I thought was out of reach is now within it, or is it?
Him. He came with me, not even knowing where we were going, but ready to destroy everything in our path to get to my brother.
I know he’s jealous of Joel, but he cares about me.
We are both not good with words, but his possessive behavior toward me has always been proof enough.
This new sexy development is the real problem. Only remembering his vise-like hole sucking me in makes me feel dizzy with desire. But I remember his words. He has been clear. He doesn’t reciprocate. He feels the attraction to me, but he hates it.
I felt the sudden urge to tear off the taxi door with my own hands when he said that. He didn’t seem to hate it, though, while he rode my cock, bouncing that greedy ass on my lap, moaning like a porn star. That sexy face he made, eyeing me with such raw lust.
Fuck! No matter what my rational side thinks, how many logical reasonings I reach, my body keeps rebelling. I can’t stop it from reacting. I look up at the ceiling, willing my dick to go down. Maybe a little sweat in the training room will help.
My apartment is far from Aki’s lavish one.
I live on the edge of Chinatown. My place is on the top floor of an old Tong Lau—a traditional Chinese multi-story tenement building—with a dim sum restaurant taking the whole ground floor.
The apartment has a large living room and open kitchen and a bedroom with an en suite bathroom—all stripped down to the essentials.
I bought the place because it was furnished, it had a surprisingly equipped gym room, and the owner of the whole block is an Indian guy obsessed with Jackie Chan.
Contrary to what people would think, the Chinese Triad don’t live in this area, but in a more luxurious place in Manhattan. Getting an apartment here was my way to flip them the bird since I know this truce between our organizations is only for show.
I pull the hairband off my wrist and tie my hair in a messy ponytail. My phone beeps as I’m about to make my way to the training room. It’s a text from Joel.
Lil’ bro:
Are you free tomorrow? How about getting a coffee or some gelato together? I know a nice café
Me:
I’ll be free in the afternoon
Lil’ bro:
Great *smile emoji* It was so good to see you, Riv. I missed you
Me:
I missed you too
Lil’ bro:
I’ll call you tomorrow. Goodnight
Me:
Goodnight, lil’ bro
Lil’ bro:
*heart emoji*
I brush my fingers over my mouth as I place the phone down on the round wooden table. It’s almost surreal to exchange texts with him. I thought I would never talk to him again. Life is quite constant in its unpredictability.
My doorbell starts ringing. And it keeps ringing and ringing. This impatience could only be attributed to one person. Akira.
“It’s fucking open,” I call out.
The door suddenly flies open wide. “You don’t lock your door? Don’t you have any survival instincts?”
“I work for you, don’t I?” I grunt, too taken by the sight of him to form a better answer.
He looks a little out of place in my unremarkable apartment, but all kinds of sexy.
Wearing a long thick coat open in the front, and underneath is the Henley I left at his place a few days ago when I got ketchup on it.
It’s black with a small bear logo on the pec.
It’s a couple of sizes too big on him, one corner of the bottom is tucked into his tight ripped jeans.
How can he look deliciously adorable and hot as fuck at the same time? A feeling of ownership I never knew I was capable of roars through me at the sight of him covered in something of mine.
“Why are you dressed like a slut?” he utters then, slamming the door closed.
He sounds pissy for no apparent reason. His eyes may be the color of chestnut, but they’re burning like a flame, and right this moment?
They are reflecting me. The blazing fire is staring me down, but I’m not afraid of the scorching heat.
Why not let it burn me? I’m pissed as well since he outright rejected his attraction to me after having his way with me twice.
I raise my brow, crossing my arms on my bare chest and gazing back at him with the same bellicose spirit.
“Are you waiting for someone else?” He narrows his eyes with a pout on his lips, kicking off his boots before leaving the entrance.
Waiting for someone else? I huff, letting out all my incredulity. He can be really blind at times.
“What are you doing here? I’m busy.” I turn around and go to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.
“Busy? Doing what?” He hops on the table near the kitchen and takes off the coat, letting it drop on the wooden surface.
“Training.” I walk toward the gym room and hear his footsteps behind me.
“Let’s do it together then. Judo? Jujitsu? Boxing?” he unfortunately suggests. But maybe a little venting isn’t so bad.
It’d be better if I don’t touch him, though. “Kenjutsu,” I utter.
His lips rapidly curl up in the usual devilish smile. He’s still annoyed. The gleam in his eyes doesn’t lie. Dueling with him is going to be twice as hard, but I’m ready for it. I actually want it.
We enter the gym room. There’s a few machines on the left, a pull-up bar, dumbbells, jump ropes, and battle ropes and other training equipment on the right.
A large blue mat covers the floor near the tall window with a view of the dim street and buildings outside.
I set the bottle on the small table near the mat and grab two swords from the wall.
They arrived a couple of days ago from LA.
I haven’t sharpened them in a while since I only use them when I train.
A sensei taught me how to handle one back in Cali, and Aki added to it. He is incredibly skilled in the art of the sword and other martial arts.
Why the fuck is he taking off his jeans?
He leaves my Henley on and rolls the sleeves up.
The garment reaches his middle thighs, making me wonder what kind of lingerie he put on.
Fuck! Even when he’s not trying to seduce me, he does it anyway.
I toss him the sword, starting to empty my mind of all thoughts.
He grabs it by the handle without even looking at it—like in a fucking movie.
Show off! Those intimidating tricks won’t work on me.
As soon as I step on the mat, he lunges, lightning fast, and flicks the hem of my sweats, blunted or not, the blade catches and tears one of the front laces. I jump back, raising my sword as he falls back into a relaxed guard. His unrepentant grin meets my serious expression.
“Let’s make it more interesting, shall we?” He swings the blade in the air, making a swish sound. “The winner gets to order the other around for an hour.”
“You already order me around,” I remind him, as we circle each other.
“I remember it differently on at least two occasions.” He smirks and then lunges again, but I parry this time, without a riposte.
I’m waiting for my opening. He’s more aggressive than usual tonight.
What the fuck made him this upset? And why is he bringing up our hookups now?
Is he trying to distract me? Two can play this game.
“I have more occasions to remember, and those guys? They followed my commands to the T.” It’s a lie, I’ve never been the forceful type in bed, but liking it or not, I know how competitive Aki is. Enough to get distracted.
I thrust forward, the tip of my sword slices through his shirt collar. The tearing sound echoes inside the room, and I enjoy the little drop of blood forming on his shoulder.
He hisses…like an enraged snake. And then attacks. Our blades clash again and again. The only sounds in the room are the whispers of our feet sliding on the mat, the clink of the metal, and our panted breaths.