Page 74 of Dangerous Deceit

I disappear out of the room and down a hallway. I can’t have an orgasm in the middle of a conversation about gun smuggling. And as I open the bathroom door, I cross my fingers, hoping Uncle Jay doesn’t dig our graves with his snooping.

CHAPTER 32

VI

I shove myself in a stall,and my phone vibrates, jolting me.

I need proof,Kenzo texts.

Heat rises to my neck. I touch myself, thinking of Kenzo’s hands on me, how dirty it is that he’s making me do it right here, right now, and how I’mnotresisting. I’m simply obeying his commands, like a mindless little toy.

For a few seconds, my mind is off of that awkward conversation. All I think about is Kenzo. He knows what I need.

Right before I come, I stop myself and take a picture, then send it to Kenzo, my chest ballooning with lust. I’ve never sent a picture like this to a man before. It’s risky. He can share it with anyone. But it’s always his choice to expose me like that, and after he made me promise to never touch another man again, I know he’ll keep my picture private. He makes me feel safe. Protected. Worshiped.Loved.

But it’s just a job. An arranged marriage to uncover gun smuggling secrets. Whether or not I want to be involved anymore, I’m orchestrating this con, and Uncle Jay is determined to finish it.

I exit the bathroom and bump into Uncle Jay, heading to the men’s room.

“What the hell?” I ask. “Can you at least be a little more subtle about this?”

He motions to the side, and we remove ourselves from the main entryway, hiding by one of the entrances to the kitchen.

“Why be subtle when they’ve killed my son?” he asks. “The client wants intel on their firearms negotiations. We get that, and we’ll be set.”

“They can still kill us,” I argue. “We were just supposed to give the client information about a new deal. Any deal.Nota firearms company. Do you really want to get involved in a gun-smuggling contract? It’s suicide.”

“If you had told me what you knew, we wouldn’t be here right now, would we?” he says, anger simmering in his tone.

I sink down inside of myself, but he pats my shoulder, his scarred hand haunting me, a reminder this can become violent at any second.

“Listen, sweetheart,” he says. “This is it. After this job, we’ll be done. No more hustling. No more conning. No more mafia marriages.” He grits his teeth. “We get this info, and we’ll finally get our dream house on a tropical beach.”

The vibrator buzzes, and I jump. Uncle Jay gives me a funny look, and I’m surprised the device works this far away. Maybe it’s Kenzo’s way of telling me to get back to the table.

“They killed Patrick over Shabu-8,” I lie. “Patrick is dead for something much less than destroying a huge, multi-million dollar business deal. What if they come after us?”

“Once we finish this deal, we’ll have so much money we can buy a fuckingfortresson the beach,” he says. “We can destroy them. Hire assassins. I don’t care. But Ineedthis to work.” His jaw clicks. “Patrickneeds this to work.”

An emotion simmers behind his blue eyes, one I’ve never seen before. Sadness, maybe? Guilt? Whatever it is, this must be Uncle Jay’s way of processing what happened with Patrick. A deep need to fuck over the yakuza and get the money we were all working for, even Patrick. And I can’t bring myself to argue anymore.

“Okay,” I say.

Uncle Jay finally goes to the bathroom. The vibrator jolts again, and I wince, but then the vibrations subside. A woman in red boots bounds down the hallway.Cherryis here now too?

“Ah, shit. Almost forgot—” Cherry reaches into a pouch and hands me a small square container. “I wanted to return the favor.”

It’s a small blue package of tampons, almost exactly the same kind I had given to her at the wedding. My jaw drops.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say quietly.

“Had to pay you back,” she says. “Both for the tampons and for the awkward family chat. Kenzo’s got you stocked up on girly things though, right?”

My cheeks turn even redder. “I think so. There’s?—”

I’ve scoured the cabinets so many times, you’d think I would know their exact contents, but I don’t. I may have seen a box, but I’m not sure. I’m too shaken up to remember anything right now.

“Look. You tell him the kind you want, and he’ll get it,” she says. “I sent him out for tampons when I was a teenager. Fucking cramps kept me in bed, right? And I didn’t want to ask my mom because she makes a big deal out of little things. So I asked Kenzo. He got me twenty different kinds, but hey, he did it.” She tosses her head. “I’m not one to hide my period, even if I did grow up withmen.And you shouldn’t either.”

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