Page 29 of Dangerous Deceit

And he just wrecked the entire social order by crashing our wedding reception.

“Did you get enough food?” I ask him.

Ronin dips his chin, but he’s lying. He hasn’t had a single bite since he arrived.

“Did you try the steak?” I ask. “There’s a sushi chef on call. I can get you anything.”

He’s silent for a while, but eventually, he answers. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Still, something itches inside of me. I need todosomething, and feeding this stranger is easier than watching my husband bounce around like a grenade ready to explode while I anticipate our consummation. I head off to the catering table, and a staff member serves a slice of prime rib and a couple of pieces of sushi.

I slide the food in front of Ronin. He blinks, probably shocked I actually gave him something.

“No,” he says. “I can’t?—”

“Please,” I say. “I’m not poisoning you. I just?—”

I swallow. I’m not sure why I’m doing this. It’s clear the yakuza members—besides Tomo—don’t care for Ronin. Maybe I want to befriend him because we’re in similar positions. If the rest of the Endo-kai knew my truth, they wouldn’t like me either.

I tuck a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “Indulge me,” I say.

Ronin bows his head just enough to show his gratitude. He holds chopsticks and studies the roll.

“Thank you,” he says.

He finally takes a bite, and the words come out before I can stop: “Tell me about yourself. You’re new in town or something?”

He nods as he finishes chewing. “I arrived from Tokyo a few hours ago.”

“Wow.” I sit up in my seat. “That’s a long flight.” He grunts in confirmation. “And you’re from the yakuza too?”

He lifts another piece of the sushi roll in the air, a drop of sriracha mayo dripping off the top. “Originally I was part of the Ito-gumi. I left permanently.”

There’s an iciness to his words. Something vicious happened, probably beyond his amputated finger. I nod, pretending like I know what that means.

Patrick motions for me. I stand up, but Ronin makes eye contact with me for the first time.

“There are more people watching you than you realize,” Ronin says.

My stomach drops to my feet, but Ronin holds my gaze, undeterred. He doesn’t trust me, then. My skin is probably as red as my hair, but I don’t know what to say.

I briefly glance at Patrick. He nods at me. Patrick and Uncle Jay would find a way to discredit someone like Ronin. And if I have to, I’ll do that too. At least around Kenzo.

“They’re watching you too,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “They cut their name into my uncle’s skin for touching one of their wives. Watch your back, or they’ll do that to you too.”

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?” he asks easily, like torture doesn’t faze him. An uneasiness settles in my stomach. He continues: “An arranged marriage. So convenient your uncle touches one of their wives right when you arrive in Las Vegas.”

“We’re locals,” I blurt out. The lie burns in my throat, but my head bobs along, pretending like it’s real. “We’ve lived here our whole lives.”

“Watchyourback,” Ronin says, his words calm and measured, as if he asked if I want another cup of coffee. “They may not see your angle, but I do.”

I got him a plate of food, and he wants to judge me like this?

“All right. You have a delightful meal,” I say sarcastically, gesturing at his plate. Ronin doesn’t move. He’s like a statue, judging me, waiting for me to make a mistake. I clench my palms, trying not to let him get to me.

Patrick pulls me off to the side and guides me to a set of large, red-leafed trees. From this spot, I can still see some of the guests, but a lot of them are obstructed by the foliage. My stomach flips. I’m glad to be away from Ronin, but I don’t like being alone with Patrick when he’s drunk and obviously amped up.

Give him what he wants, and he’ll leave you alone.

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