that connects him with his roots.
Akira comes from a noble family with samurai blood that goes back several centuries.
His upbringing was strict and disciplined, and as a result, he’s a conservative Confucianist with a great appreciation for anything traditional, whether it’s plants or green tea done the authentic Japanese way.
However, he rose beyond that and opened himself to the world, which is the reason behind his success as a businessman. He’s achieved things no one else in his family was able to.
They let their traditional ways shackle them, but he didn’t. While he loves his origins and takes pride in them, he doesn’t let them pull him down and can become a chameleon if need be.
He’s in an internal war with his brother, who’s waiting for any mistake so he can turn the tables and become the leader of the Mori empire.
Of course, my jerk husband didn’t tell me anything about his origins or fortune when we used to be pen pals back when I was eighteen and he was twenty-one. Because the sucker totally lied. He was in college when he first wrote to me, not in high school. He’s thirty-one now.
Akira gets out of the car first, without waiting for the driver to open his door, then strides to mine as I’m about to step out. My husband offers me his hand and I take it before we walk inside together.
His steps are moderate, never too rushed, and never too slow. Everything he does is previously calculated to the smallest details. He’s like a mountain sometimes, I swear. No one can tell what’s inside its sturdy silence.
We take in the view of the garden that’s lit by dim yellow light coming from lamp poles between the trees.
“It’s a beautiful night, don’t you think?” he asks.
“It is.”
“Even the charity event was nice.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I had a few memorable impressions of a couple of people.”
I wet my suddenly-dry lips. I’ve known Akira for long enough to recognize that he doesn’t take note of everyone he meets. He might act polite and welcoming to each person he talks to, but he’s always filtering them in his mind.
He only recalls those he’ll work with.
Or those he’ll destroy.
“Like who?” I ask in a tone that I hope to hell doesn’t betray my emotions.
“Knox Van Doren and Daniel Sterling, for one.”
Sebastian’s colleagues. They came over and said their hellos to us after we talked to Sebastian since, apparently, they were previously acquainted with Akira.
“I thought you’d met them before.”
“Yes. But tonight, I met them under different circumstances. Let’s say, new ones.”
“I see.”
“Then there’s your college friend. What was his name again?”
He’s playing a game, wanting me to say his name myself, because no matter how much I tried to control my body language, Akira is a master at reading people’s reactions and he must’ve sensed all the stiffening going on whenever Sebastian was in sight.
But if I choose confrontation, he’ll just deflate and make it appear as if I’m being defensive.
So I smile. “Sebastian. His name is Sebastian Weaver.”
“Right. Weaver. I heard his grandfather is a senator again.”
“Could be.”
“His uncle owns the firm in which he, Daniel, and Knox work. I heard he passed the bar after taking an accelerated course.”
“Nice.” When the hell did he manage to get his hands on this information? I knew Akira’s line of intel worked fast, but I didn’t know it was this fast.
“Do you have any secrets to tell me about him?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m considering working with him.”
Fuck. Shit.
When he expressed his intentions earlier, I thought they were mere empty promises. I didn’t think he’d really want to work with Sebastian.
“Wouldn’t it make more sense if you worked with Knox or Daniel since you’re already acquainted with them?” I’m thankful my tone is casual.
“Logically, it does, but where’s the challenge in that?” He smiles in that mysterious way that still gets under my skin.
Akira always appears like a blank canvas who only shows people what they want to see. He does have his hidden tendencies, though, and presents them through that infuriating smile.
I don’t even trust anything he told me over the years when we used to write letters back and forth to each other. At the time, I thought they were genuine, but that could’ve been another way for him to manipulate me so I’d end up in this position.
Because no matter what Kai and Ren say, I don’t believe this whole thing hasn’t been plotted for years. Maybe since I was born.
“So?” Akira insists.
“So what?”
“Any