Page 9 of Black Widow's Kiss

“Don’t even think about it, Lorenzo. Or better yet, think about what comes after that. You think his people back in Japan wouldn’t be able to piece together his elimination with a forced marriage proposal? How long will it take for shit to hit the fan?

“There are better ways to handle things, Lorenzo. I tell ya, you and Matteo are exactly alike.”

“Don’t you compare me to that piece of shit.”

“Hey, watch the way you talk about your brother.”

“What are you talking about? You call him that all of the time.”

“That’s because I’m the one who has to keep cleaning up his messes. When that’s your job, then you can say it. Until then, he’s your brother and you love him.”

“Whatever,” Lorenzo replied sinking back into his chair.

It probably wasn’t the best idea to piss off the only backup I would have if things went belly up. But Matteo needed as many people on his side as possible. I couldn’t let Lorenzo write him off like that.

Exiting the car, four of Sato’s men met us. I was sure that someone inside thought this would be an impressive show of force. Truth was, if I was determined, these four wouldn’t even slow me down.

“Guns?”

“We’re not giving you our fuckin’ guns,” Lorenzo snapped.

“Lorenzo, give them your fuckin’ gun,” I ordered reaching for mine. “We are entering Sato’s home. We need to show him the respect he deserves.”

Oh yeah, Lorenzo was pissed at me. Big fuckin’ deal. He’ll get over it.

The inside of Sato’s house was as impressive as the garden. There wasn’t much he could do with the 1920s architecture, but he made it work. The hard wood beams that traverse the ceiling, the minimalist design tiles and wooden décor, it felt like I was in a different world.

“This way please,” the largest of the men said ushering me onto a balcony overlooking acres of land.

There was a man already there. Not Sato. Someone else. He stood humbly wearing what looked like a Japanese ceremonial gown and he had a book in his hand.

“You, there,” Sato’s security guy said gesturing for me to stand next to the man. “You, there,” he said ushering Lorenzo to the side.

Lorenzo looked at me asking if he should go. I nodded and approached who I assumed was Sato’s interrupter. Because, of course, Sato didn’t speak English. Yeah, whatever.

It took about a minute of standing awkwardly with this man for Sato to arrive. Strangely, he didn’t look at me. With his eyes averted, he took a position more than an arm’s length away on the other side of the balcony as Lorenzo.

What was going on? I knew that Japanese culture had a lot of customs like bowing and shit, and a lot of it stretched into business. But I didn’t know enough to say how weird this was.

It got even weirder when music began playing. Any music at a negotiation would be strange. But they were playing that wah-wah music. You know, it’s that music they play in the quiet moments in Samurai movies. Why were they playing it now?

When someone else entered the balcony, I had a pretty good guess about what was going on. I don’t know who it fuckin’ was, but that fucker was wearing a Japanese wedding dress. I recognized that shit. And they were carrying a bouquet.

“Oh, no. Sato, no.” I protested never taking my eyes off of my bride.

Sato grunted. It was loud. I think that fucker just chastised me in Japanese. Who the fuck did he think he was.

I was about to show him what I thought about this stunt by shoving my fist down his throat when my bride’s stomping shoes grabbed my attention. It was the sound of wood on wood.

Staring at my bride again, something inside me stirred. Who was this? You would think I could tell by looking at them. But the dress, or gown, or whatever it was practically took up half of the room. Added to that was that there wasn’t much of my bride showing. They didn’t wear a veil, but the funny looking hat they wore covered their hair, while their makeup painted their face white.

Was this Yuki? Had Sato come to his senses and given me my perfect bride?

As my bride slowly approached, I looked closer. I couldn’t be sure, but it did look like her. Goddamn were they beautiful,though. The robe they wore on top of their layered dress was embroidered with gold and blue images of ancient Japan. There were a lot of birds on it too. Or, maybe they were cranes?

Whatever they were, it was my bride’s eyes that really got me. They stared at me not backing down. They were fierce and wild and staring into them did something to me. They made me want to tear this place apart. But not to get away from them. I would destroy the world to make them mine.

When my bride stood in front of me and the man, I finally realized who the man was. He wasn’t Sato’s interrupter. He was a priest.

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