and the strong heartbeat beneath it.
He ups his rhythm until I’m gasping, holding on by a thread to the carnal pleasure that he’s ripping out of me.
“Sebastian…” I moan, and my heart jolts as the name hangs in the air, but I don’t get to think on it long as a wave of pleasure drags me under.
He doesn’t speak, though. The Sebastian from my hallucinations never does.
Usually, I don’t speak either, but today, lust takes complete hold of me until I can’t think past it.
I imagine his hand around my throat as he drives into me harder and faster. I slide off the mattress due to the power of his cock forcing its way into my pussy over and over until I’m screaming.
My orgasm goes on and on and I think I’m going to pass out from the strength of it.
I ride the pleasure, murmuring his name like a chant. I don’t want to open my eyes, don’t want to leave the fantasy and return to the world of the living.
But I do.
No matter how high I float, I always eventually crash down.
I slowly open my eyes, and just like that, the spell is broken. The scent of sex lingers in the air, but the only thing touching me is my own fingers.
I’m all alone.
A tear slides down my cheek and slips into my mouth.
It doesn’t matter how many times the scene repeats, it still hurts like a fresh wound.
I think it always will.
But today, the hurt is stronger, deeper, as if someone dug a knife into that wound.
Because when I saw him again, I couldn’t help thinking about where we might be right now if those black days in the cell had never happened.
If he hadn’t been shot and we weren’t taken.
If I hadn’t dug my nose in where it didn’t belong.
But it’s useless to think of that, isn’t it?
Not when our story has already been written.
I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand and stand up. I need to put on my steel armor to meet our guests.
As in, my fucking family.
19
Naomi
After I change into a pantsuit and release my hair so it falls to my shoulders, I head to the hall.
Akira is already waiting at the entrance of my wing.
He’s wearing a yukata with a men’s kimono that has his family’s crest embroidered on either side of his chest on top of it. This type of fine-quality traditional wear costs a small fortune, but he’s more comfortable in these clothes indoors. I think it has something to do with how he was raised in Kyoto.
Another thing he lied to me about in the letters. Akira isn’t from Tokyo.
“Ready?” He offers me his hand.
I take it. “Are they already here?”
“Yes, they’ve been waiting. Good to keep them on their toes, don’t you think?”
“You’re the only one who believes keeping a Yakuza leader on his toes is a good thing.”
“Not the only one since you’re right there with me, my dear wife.”
I scoff and he smiles as we go into the dining room. It has an ancient design where everyone is seated on the floor and has a small table in front of them full of premium side dishes.
Sure enough, our guests for the night are seated and waiting.
Kai, Ren, and my father.
The same father that I spent my stupid childhood and teenage years fantasizing about finding.
The same father I had countless fights with my mom about.
Abe Hitori.
Aka the leader of the New York City branch of the Yakuza and a man even more dangerous than Mom could have ever warned me about.
The man who can blow the only thread keeping me alive to bloody pieces.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” Akira says in Japanese as we bow in greeting and take our seats opposite them.
Akira and I speak only in Japanese when we’re around each other.
“It’s okay. We haven’t waited long.” My father pours himself a drink and watches me from above the rim of his glass.
He’s not tall, but he has a piercing stare that’s meant to bring those who oppose him to their knees. My father is the epitome of a charismatic man who knows what he wants and how to get it.
Even if it means crushing his own family in the process.
“May I compliment the way you look, Mrs. Mori?” Kai’s calm attention is on me and I wish I could throw a glass at his face.
That man is not only Dad’s second-in-command/trustee/strategist, but he’s also the one who metaphorically twisted my arm.
He