Page 23 of Her Fearless Ronin

“I’ve been sending you money for quite some time.”

I took a step back with shock and also a hint of embarrassment at his pity. “How long?”

“Listen, Hope, it doesn’t rea—”

I stomp my foot again. “HOW. LONG?”

“Probably since the start.”

“Oh…” I sat heavily on a chair that was still pulled back, grateful we stayed in the room after all. I could hardly believe the hypocrisy of my parents and brother. During all these years, they cursed Jiro while taking his money. “How much?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Jiro, how much?”

“Enough to pay for the club,” he replied evasively, and I was too shaken by the revelations and all that it implied.

I had lost the will to fight as tears of defeat started to prickle at the back of my eyes. I thought we’d just got bad luck and that we all suffered, but it seemed that I was the one who got the brunt of it. If Jiro had sent us enough money to cover the astronomical fees this club was costing, I could have easilyfinished college and probably…

“Don’t go there.”

I looked up at Jiro through the light haze of unshed tears as he now stood in front of me.

“What?” My voice cracked at the word.

He muttered something in Japanese before crouching in front of me. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you, at least not yet. There’s no point dwelling on things you may never get answers to. There’s no point getting lost in the ‘what could have been.’”

He grabbed my hands in his, and I looked down as they rested on my lap. His strong hands engulfed mine, warming my freezing fingers.

I looked back at him silently; his face was so close, his eyebrows slightly etched as his eyes scanned my face with concern.

“These thoughts are poisonous, Hope. Take it from someone who knows. Nothing, and I meannothing, good can come out from the path your thoughts were taking.” He tightened his hold on my hands, bringing one to his mouth and kissing the back of it.

It was an innocent gesture, a gentle attempt to comfort me, and yet the simple brush of his lips seemed to wake all my nerves, turning my blood into liquid fire. How was that possible?

“Is that why you came?” I asked him, this question still occupying the forefront of the mystery that Jiro Saito was.

He stayed crouched in front of me as his thumb brushed back and forth on my knuckles.

“No, I came to find a way to let go of it, actually. I didn’t leavethe clan, Hope. I was cast away.” He looked away sharply, and I pursed my lips, stopping myself from saying anything—breaking the confession I assumed was hard for him to make.

He took a deep breath. “I deserved it, I did, and even if I’m gone, Hoka is still my brother. But I’ve let my past… myowninterpretation of it impact the future of people I love, and I can’t do that anymore, and I can’t allow you to take this path either.” He let go of my hand and cupped my cheek.

I closed my eyes, nuzzling shamelessly in the kind, gentle gesture.

“Hope, whatever happened, happened. There is no benefit of you mulling over how things could have been or how they should have been. You’re twenty-two, you’ve got your whole life in front of you. Let’s concentrate on that.”

I closed my eyes, turned my head into his hand, and kissed his palm. He took a sharp intake of breath, and I opened my eyes, surprised to find him so close, his nose almost touching mine.

“You’re right. It’s not too late to go for what I want.” My heart pounded in my chest, and in a moment of bravery or complete insanity, I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his. His hand on my cheek tensed, pulling me closer, and I responded with a soft sigh, deepening the kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, a blend of danger and desire that I couldn’t resist. His hand still cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. The intensity of his touch, the way his lips moved against mine, ignited a fire within me that I had never feltbefore.

The sound of a loud crash from the corridor snapped us back to the present, and Jiro abruptly pulled away.

He stood up briskly and stepped back, his hand running through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “Hope, I…” His words faltered, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. Regret shadowed his features, his eyes avoiding mine.

My heart sank, the warmth of the moment replaced by a cold wave of disappointment. I had let myself believe, even for a brief moment, that he felt the same way I did. But now, his sudden withdrawal told me a different story.

“It’s okay,” I said softly, though the ache in my chest told me it was anything but okay. I wrapped my arms around myself as if that could protect me from the sudden chill that had settled over us.

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