Page 46 of The Queen's Denial

I feel tears prick my eyes. I hate it when my father is upset with me, and it’s always worse because it’s so rare that he loses control like this. I don’t even try to make up a story or pretend I don’t understand what he’s talking about. “I am so sorry, father. Of course, you taught me better than this. I meant no disrespect, and I should not have provoked him in such a manner.”

My father is still seething, but he settles down just a bit after my immediate acknowledgment of his anger and my quick apology for what I’ve done.

“This is what is best for you, Chichi-chan. I don’t go through this process for me or anyone else. Perhaps it would not be what you would choose if you could. But when have we ever been able to choose, my daughter? You must do what I’m asking. Do you understand me? Do you understand the importance of this task?”

I hate that I need to answer this, because sometimes I don’t understand. Sometimes I don’t understand why we can’t break out of this life, if only in some small ways. But I know I have to nod, so I force myself to do so. There is still a tense silence for the longest minute of my life. Then, just like that, my father sighs, and the tension breaks.

I stare hard at the bottom of his desk, blinking rapidly and sniffing once more, and then chance a quick, darting gaze upward. My father stares off at the wall in contemplation. I pray that the contemplation is over soon. Although he doesn’t seem as angry, I can never be sure of what he’s feeling since he hides it away even better than I do.

“He would not have made a sufficient husband for you anyway, my Chichi-chan.” I dart my glance up once more and see him looking at me with a hint of fondness in his gaze, and I try to hold back my sigh of relief at the weight it lifts off my chest. “He is clearly in love with another. No man who loves another is good enough for you.”

My heart drops and I swallow thickly. He’s right of course, but I wonder for a moment if that sentiment goes both ways. And I wonder what he’d think about what Andy and I have been doing these past few months.

Don’t think about that. It doesn’t do anyone any good. You are good at pretending and being civil, and that’s what matters. There’s no reason to think further into it, and I really don’t want to. So, I simply nod, staying silent again.

“The man who makes a good match for you will show respect to you whether or not I am there. This is how I will be able to tell that you will at least be respected within their household.”

I nod rotely but allow my gaze to veer upward slightly, which is how I end up seeing my father’s small, barely-there smirk as he continues. “The man who wins your hand will also have a full set of teeth in their mouth. And a straight nose.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing but can’t keep my smile down. Relief oozes out of me. My father has shown once again that he is always on my side, no matter what.

I still know my place well enough to realize that speaking would be a bad idea, so I stay silent until he dismisses me with a wave of his hand.

“Oh, and Chichi-chan,” he calls to me before I leave the office.

“Yes, Oto-san?” I ask, feeling as though I’m getting a crick in my neck from the permanent downward tilt of my head over the past few hours.

“See to it that tomorrow goes better.”

I nod firmly. “Yes, of course.”

Chapter 22

Chi

I think all of the men I meet with will be hard and detached and slightly disrespectful, but a obviously less so than Sota was. I’m shocked when I’m wrong immediately.

Asuka, the next match I meet with, is extremely awkward. I know he’s a nerd, like I am in private, because he doesn’t hide it. It’s easy to find information online about his love for Lord of the Rings and all things gaming. But when he comes to see me, there is no endearing nervous banter, no nerding out over Marvel shows or Star Wars, and no charming, silly jokes. There’s lots of anxious fidgeting, shifty eyes, and a look that screams, Get me the fuck out of here as soon as possible.

I couldn’t be more uncomfortable right now.

But, as always, I have to grin and bear it and attempt to make the best of it. I curse the fact that I’ve been the one to suffer through Japanese etiquette courses, while these men definitely could have benefitted from them far more than I did.

“Is the tea to your liking?” I ask softly, looking down at my cup before taking a scalding sip, just to have something to do.

“It’s too hot. Look at you; you must have burned your mouth. And it’s… it’s so pretty. Your mouth, I mean. I mean…” The poor guy actually sighs at his horribly failed attempt to pay me a compliment. I think it will be over, but the train wreck continues. “I mean, I like your whole body. And a pretty face. You know what I mean?”

He smiles at me uncertainly, and I have to force myself to give a wooden smile back. He seems to have no idea about social cues, so he takes it as me accepting the compliment and permission to continue, to my utter dismay.

“You are beautiful, Chichi-san. And this house is big and beautiful. And I am quite powerful in Japan. So, we would make a great couple.” It comes out sounding like a thesis statement. A very, very poor attempt at a cohesive train of logical thought, even though it’s actually just a bunch of random words that should have little to do with each other.

It’s all so incredibly painful to try and play along, but yet, sadly, I feel like this sweet, socially awkward guy is my ticket to being the powerful, influential Yakuza queen I’ve always wanted to be, with little to no interference. I have to consider this. I need to do what’s best for myself and this organization that my father has been running for decades.

Asuka has put what all of the men waiting to try and marry me are thinking into words by telling me I’m powerful, and he’s powerful, so we should get married. I’m not stupid enough to think that any of these men I’m seeing will really be interested in me as a human being. Of course, I’m sure I won’t be interested in them either.

So, what would I get out of a marriage with this man? That’s easy; I could step all over this guy, and I know it. He would never have the upper hand. He clearly hasn’t been taught to fend for himself, and he seems naïve as all hell. As uninterested as I am in him, I need to push forward. He may be my only chance at a match that won’t be able to use my wealth and power for his own benefit and step on my neck on his way to the top.

I straighten my leg under the table, stretching too far for it to make any sense, and finally feel my foot connect with his. “I think we certainly could be a great couple.” I delay my reaction on purpose, rubbing my dainty little shoe against his pants leg before pushing a blush into my cheeks and looking even further down into my tea, yanking my foot back as if I didn’t mean to play footsie with him. As if it wasn’t a completely calculated move, in order to begin pulling him into an infatuation with the very thought of me.

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