Page 65 of Consumed By the Mafia

“That’s still not right.”

Ryoma grinned, just for a second, then eased back enough to catch her gaze again. “Do you want to know my story?”

Her eyes widened. “Of course,” she said. “I didn’t really think you wanted to tell it.”

He didn’t hide the bitter twist to his lips. “It’s not my favorite subject.” He pulled his hand from her hair and stroked his thumb over her jaw. “For you, I’ll make an exception tonight. It’s not like no one else knows.”

Abby drew a breath, framed his jaw in her hands, and pulled him down for a brief, wet kiss. With her lips still against his, she murmured, “I want to know. But only if you’re comfortable talking to me.”

Ryoma dropped his hands to her hips. “It’s either that or I strip you naked and fuck you until we both pass out.”

Amusement flashed through her eyes. “You have such a one-track mind.” She pushed from his hold, took his hand, and dragged him to the sofa. “At least woo me with a story first.”

He chuckled, letting her lead him, and settled at her side on the overstuffed leather furniture. It was hard not to haul her into his lap and find more of her skin with his lips. She wasn’t wrong about his obsessive focus where she was concerned, she only didn’t know how unlike him it was. Still, he’d resolved to tell her his story, so he resisted the temptation.

Ryoma closed his eyes for a second, faces and snippets of voices from years past rolling through him.

Abby laced her fingers with his and snuggled up tight to his side, her other hand curving around his arm as she laid her head on his shoulder. “Whatever’s easiest to start with,” she said softly.

He released a breath. None of it was easy, so he started with what he figured she was most curious about. “When I was exiled from the Harada-kai, part of my banishment included abandoning everything about my life and identity. So when I met Cris, I had nothing. When he brought me back to Jersey with him, the boss was the one who decided my new name. That’s howRyoma Satowas born.”

He saw Abby gaping at him, her eyes shining with sympathetic hurt. It was maybe the first time such an expression hadn’t immediately pissed him off.

Ryoma grinned faintly. “Did you know one translation of ‘ryo’ is ‘dragon’?”

Abby snorted. “Are you saying … the Dragon namedyou …dragon?”

“The specific kanji I settled on basically translate to ‘dragon and tiger,’ actually.” He watched her gaze drop to the exposed ink curving over his shoulder, because of course she’d seen the tiger forever climbing up his back.

Abby dragged her eyes back to his. “And your surname?” He noted—and appreciated—that she didn’t label it his family name.

He shrugged. “Sato is common. I named it as an option, and he approved it.” Technically he’d provided options for both names and Dante had selected the combination he’d most liked. The result was the same.

She nodded slowly. “Will you tell me how you ended up in that position?” Her hands tightened around his arm. “How could your family … throw you away like that?”

Ryoma smiled at the pain on her face. “Short answer? Because I betrayed them.”

twenty

Family Lost

Abby held tighter tohis arm as his words hung in the air of the dimly lit room. She didn’t look away, didn’t rear back, didn’t even furrow her brow in disapproval.

Ryoma felt the unusual need to lick his lips or fidget in his seat. He fought the restlessness down, curled his fingers over hers, and let himself walk back through the old, dusty, better-off-forgotten memories. “It started when I was little,” he said, quieter than he’d consciously meant to. “I was the middle child, with one older brother and one younger sister. My brother, Mitsuaki, was a hot-head who thought our father’s affiliation with the Harada-kai made theentire family untouchable. He started picking fights and getting into trouble, and when he was seventeen, he got himself killed.”

Abby’s brow pinched but she remained quiet.

Ryoma swallowed. “I was nine when we lost him. It hit the family pretty hard. That was a big part of why we were chosen for the move overseas.”

“When you moved to Hawaii,” she said, as if speaking her realization aloud.

He nodded. “I started being indoctrinated into the ways of the Harada-kai when I hit puberty. We were in California by then. My mother had withdrawn, basically taking full responsibility for raising my sister, Fuyuko.” His throat constricted on his baby sister’s name and he paused.

Visions of her frightened, tear-stained face lingered in his mind. That was the last way he’d seen her. Terrified and heartbroken.

Abby’s hand lifted from his arm and settled over his chest, pressing firmly enough to catch his attention. To ground him. “Ryoma. What happened? Is Fuyuko—”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, the words escaping him in a rough exhale that felt like defeat. He held Abby’s hand tighter and tipped his weight toward her. “I was blind, for too long. I went through an angry, rebellious phase of my own because I didn’t know how to handle my grief and everything about adjusting to a new culture. So I went along with being allowed to learn violent things, barely kept up with school, and I didn’t learn what was going on under my nose until it was too fucking late.”

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