9. Curated Devotion
Chapter nine
Curated Devotion
Nyomi
And with that, Sako walked up and pushed the door open.
I followed.
The floors shifted as we entered. From stone, to lacquered wood, to finally a tatami so soft it silenced every step.
The air turned warmer here, laced with faint incense.
The master bedroom was decadent but clean in its design. Walls of floor-to-ceiling glass curved in an arc, offering a panoramic view of the sea and the cliffs.
Night had blanketed the island, but the moon painted it silver along the waves.
Sheer silk curtains billowed at the glass, caught in the breeze of some hidden ventilation system. On the far end, an indoor cherry blossom tree stood in a planter of black stone.
Oh damn. That’s dope.
A massive bed dominated the center. Low to the ground in traditional style but impossibly large, with layers of black sheets and deep red silk coverlets.
To the right, a sitting area framed by curved furniture in lacquered gold and obsidian, like a lounge from some surreal imperial dream.
A low table held a tea set and a decanter of something amber. There were pillows. So many pillows. Some silk. Others brocade. All inviting.
But what made my heart stop was the nightstand. My copy of When the Dragon Swallowed the Moon was on the top with my wrinkled bookmark still tucked in at the last page I’d read.
I faced Sako. “My stuff is already here?”
“Yes. Your friend, Mr. Patterson brought them with him.”
My eyes widened. “Zo is already here too? In this house?”
“Oh no. Mr. Patterson is in the villa with Hiroko and her assistants.” Sako checked his watch. “He requested a masseuse for this evening. I believe that is happening now. His mani/pedi is scheduled next, but I can let him know that you are here when he is done.”
I laughed. “Oh no need. We wouldn’t want to interrupt the king at his duties.”
Sako chuckled. “As you wish.”
I shook my head, trying to picture Zo living like some pampered royal while I had been crawling through the emotional minefield of war, intimacy, and legacy.
Dude, I was worried for you and you are on this island living your best life.
“This is your closet.” Sako turned and walked to a hidden door I hadn’t even noticed.
When it opened, I gasped.
It was less a closet and more a private boutique.
Lights rose slowly, illuminating an aisle flanked by dark wood wardrobes and glass display shelves. On the left: Kenji’s clothes. Sharp suits, custom leather jackets, pressed shirts in black, wine, and gray. Belts. Watches. Silk ties in a rainbow of masculine elegance.
On the right…
My things.
My clothes from Zo’s house. Folded and hung with care. Organized by color and season like someone had studied the exact rhythm of my wardrobe.
My favorite wrap dresses steamed and ready.
Even the tank tops I wore to sleep were pressed.
Damn.
But beyond that. . .there were new items too. Dresses I’d never seen before, each one draped on satin hangers—structured silks, hand-beaded details, labels I’d only ever typed into search bars, never worn. A capsule collection in rich, moody tones: forest, wine, obsidian, storm gray.
Lingerie too—delicate sets in lace and satin, still bearing price tags in currencies I didn’t recognize.
French.
Italian.
Japanese.
A few bras were more architecture than clothing, boned and laced, something from a couture runway.
One shelf held sleepwear in pure silk, folded into careful thirds. Soft knit loungewear in cashmere and merino, each set wrapped in tissue.
Sako stepped in with me. “Please let me know if there is anything that you do not want in here. We rushed with the private stylists to getting as many items on the island.”
“This is. . .” I blinked. “Amazing. I have no complaints at this time.”
“I am happy to hear that.”
I pulled a drawer open and spotted sleep masks, lace-trimmed slips, and seamless underthings in my exact size.
Not close.
Exact.
Then the perfumes. A full shelf of them. Not just popular designer bottles, but rare niche fragrances I’d only bookmarked on wish lists: Kilian, Le Labo, Roja Dove.
Another was a scent I once sampled in Paris and never forgot.
Midnight Seduction. How did they get that? This is. . .too much of a coincidence.
I looked at him. “So. . .some of this stuff is. . .familiar.”
Sako nodded. “My understanding is that a hacker checked your browser history and noted anything dealing with online shopping or wish lists.”
“Oh.”
So. . .they saw my porn history too? Yikes.
I cleared my throat. “They did all of that tonight?”
Sako appeared uncomfortable with the next words. “My. . .understanding is that the hacker was given the assignment after your first date, but I am not sure.”
O-kay. . .
Kenji had a hacker studying me. It wasn’t just one of his men watching me on a camera or digging through my trash.
No. Someone had been inside my digital life.
My wish lists. My search history. My bookmarks.
Someone had sifted through every casual scroll, every impulse-click, every late-night indulgence I never thought anyone would see.
My world cracked open a little.
I wasn’t sure if it was awe or alarm bleeding into my chest.
My gaze landed on this perfume that I was sure I’d only sampled once in a boutique in Manhattan, a scent I’d never even posted about.
Just sniffed.
Closed my eyes.
And smiled.
It hadn’t even made it onto a wish list.
And yet…here it was. Tucked between bottles of expensive perfume.
Poison Berry? What the fuck?
My throat tightened.
This wasn’t just surveillance. This was obsessive attention . This was someone listening for what I didn’t say. And yeah, it was a little twisted.
But so was I.
Yeah. . .something is wrong with me. I lowkey like it even though I’m freaked out at the same time.
My pulse stuttered.
Sako led me back through the bedroom, then opened another door. “And here is the bathroom.”
I stepped inside and nearly moaned.
It was a temple of sensuality.
The bathtub—if one could call it that—was a deep, square mini-pool in the center of the room. Sunken into black stone, steam rose from its surface, and flower petals floated along the top.
My. My.
To the right was a glass shower built for two. Rainfall spouts. Jets on every wall. A bench.
To the left was a vanity area with gold-rimmed mirrors, drawers filled with fresh products, brushes, skincare items.
There were robes.
Fluffy and heavy.
Towels folded in perfect thirds.
A dish of chocolates rested beside a carafe of cold water and a glass.
This is. . .different. Like. . .pure luxury. The very definition of a soft life.
Everything had been prepared for my stay on the island.
Everything had been thought through.
Pleasure.
Power.
Beauty.
I turned slowly, heat blooming in my belly and behind my ribs.
“And that is the end of the tour.” Sako gave me a final bow. “Please let me know if you will need anything else. I am always close by.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh. I almost forgot. Your friend, Mr. Patterson said that you would need a hair braiding specialist flown to the island. Are there any particular ones you already work with?”
“Uh. . .” I tried not to laugh. “Zo said I needed someone to braid my hair?”
“Yes. He mentioned the beach and ocean, saying you wouldn’t get in the water unless you had your hair braided.”
I shook my head. “Yeah. But. . .it’s not like we’re going to be on the island for a long time.”
Sako’s expression turned grim. “We may. . .”
Oh. . .fuck. He’s right. We might be here for a long time. . .
I swallowed. “Okay. Better safe than sorry. Yes. I have a specialist I work with, but she’s in New York.”
“We can fly her in.”
“Oh no, that’s not necessary.”
“That is fine. We will get her.”
I blinked. “You want to fly out my stylist from Brooklyn?”
Sako nodded, dead serious. “Yes. We will go to her and ensure she is in full comfort on the way here. First-class flight. Luxury villa. Masseuse. Personal chef.”
I snorted. “Oh my God. Deja will lose her damned mind.”
Just saying her name made me smile.
Deja was this hilarious, no-filter woman in her early fifties who did hair out of her brownstone in Bed-Stuy. She kept a little folding chair set up by the window. The TV was always on low blasting Young & the Restless or General Hospital , and she had something to say about everybody .
One didn’t book appointments with Deja so much as earn them . Women had to call, then follow up with a text, then wait to be summoned by her cousin, Nika who had a whole conversation which felt more like being on trial.
But when Deja braided?
Flawless.
Clean parts.
Edges laid.
Scalp oiled just right.
Deja could do everything —lemonade braids, feed-ins, goddess locs, boho knotless, Senegalese twists that made me feel like a queen.
Corporate girls went to her.
Video vixens.
Girls from the block. Everybody knew: if you wanted your crown tight and pretty, you went to Deja.
If she came out here. . .to this island and got flown in first-class as well as put up in a luxury villa with a masseuse. . .this would be the trip of a lifetime for her. She’d be talking about it until 2075. Hell, she might never leave.
I shook my head, laughing to myself.
Sako, of course, didn’t smile. “Would you like us to make contact?”
I sighed, still grinning. “Yes. Go ahead. And thanks.”
“No problem.”
Good looking out, Zo. I guess you’re like. . .“Bitch we’re going to be swimming and lounging on the beach during this war.”
Once Sako left, I took a quick shower and put on silky pajamas.
Kenji still hadn’t come up. Surely, he had a lot on his mind, and even more to execute before dawn. I just wished I could be there for him, standing by his side. However, I didn’t want to get in his way either. I wasn’t about this gangster life. I didn’t know shit about where and what to bomb.
Fuck. I cannot be useless while he is doing this. I’ll have to figure out a way I can help him.
I got in the bed and made myself absolutely comfortable.
Never had I thought that after our date I would be on his private island and in his bed. My plans had been to get right back on Zo’s futon and swoon over the awesome date.
But life had other plans.
Although danger thickened the air all around me, there was still this giddiness too.
Damn, girl.
Of course, I couldn’t go to sleep. I doubted I would be able to until Kenji appeared. So, I grabbed the book off the stand.
When the Dragon Swallowed the Moon.
My fingers found the tasseled gold bookmark and paused, thinking about where I had left off.
Sol.
The Lowly woman with ice in her veins and an unknown history buried in her skin. A Lowly couple found a huge egg in the forest, and right when they were about to crack it open to eat, she’d come out of it—a little brown baby girl.
What is she? Some sort of creature? A shapeshifter too?
In my mind, I saw her standing there, barefoot in the ash, trembling with a power she didn’t ask for but couldn’t refuse. She had pushed Korin—in his dragon form—out of the sky with her ice.
She hadn’t even known she was that strong. It terrified her, the way her power met Korin’s in the air.
Plus, it hadn’t been just a fight.
It had been intimate.
Sensual.
That part made my breath catch.
Sol had walked home like she was waking from a fever dream, aching in places magic shouldn't reach. And the rumors had already begun in the town—theories swirling, people trying to explain what none of them had truly seen.
Only one boy dared to tell the truth, and even he didn’t understand it.
Sol had fled.
And I understood why.
The world wasn’t built to cradle women like her.
Not ones who made the impossible happen.
By the next chapter, everything shifted. She knew someone was following her, and that scent—Korin’s scent—jasmine, stormwater, and flame haunted her.
Then a man appeared with pale skin, black hair, and noble bearing. Still, the dragon’s scent wrapped around him.
She tried to figure out who he was.
He vanished and reappeared too fast and got too close.
When Sol got scared, I felt that same fear twist in my belly too. That aching confusion of being hunted and wanted.
Feared and chosen.
She ran. And behind her, the stranger rose, his skin glowing and rippling. His body unraveling into wings and fire.
I swallowed.
The man was Korin, the dragon.
She fled.
He chased and caught her with his massive claws.
Wondering what will happen next, I leaned back against the pillows.
Korin, you better not hurt my girl. I’ll knock you out. What was Korin thinking in that moment? Did he know what she was since she had no idea?
I turned the page, heart thudding, hungry to know what would happen next.