Page 18 of Dangerous Deceit

On Friday night, Dice, our lead enforcer, is watching her as a favor for me. Sitting in an unmarked cargo van with a kimchi sandwich, he inspects her motel door. He’s ahafu,like Cherry—half Japanese, born and raised in the United States. Like me, he’s got the traditionalirezumitattoos you’d expect from the yakuza—a full-body piece with skulls, flowers, and a geisha. But he’s a big son of a bitch, with a sumo wrestler’s bulk, a bodybuilder’s obnoxious muscle, and a shaved head. Stubble gets him sometimes, but for the most part, he keeps his face clean. Tomo used to try to get him to wear suits when we wereyounger, but combat clothes are his thing, even if he’s at the Gilded Stage ogling his crush. He’s never spoken a word to her, and she has no idea one of the fiercest yakuza killers in the country has already staked his claim on her.

Dice rolls down his window.

“Everything good?” I ask.

He nods.

“I’ll take over then. Thanks.”

He finishes his last bite, then backs out of the parking space, disappearing onto the street. I slip back over to my car and grab the hanger from the back seat. The dress weighs more than a box of vinyl records, and honestly, I don’t know how women do it. What’s the point in wearing chains when you can easily get married in a short little cocktail dress or sweat pants?

Then again,Ipicked out this beaded cage. I’ve got this particular image I want when I see my wife walk down the aisle and again when I finally get to fuck her brains out. It’s going to be perfect for her.

I knock on the motel door. Vi answers with smudged makeup, plaid pajama pants, an oversized shirt on her chest, and her hair in a sloppy ponytail. She’s objectively a sleepy mess, but I don’t see her like that.Thisis Vi in all of her disheveled glory. She’s not the sweet little doll I took to a gala, nor some gold digger pulling one over on me. This is her. And with those blue eyes and her long neck, she doesn’t need anything fancy to be gorgeous.

If I didn’t have this fantasy of fucking her in this wedding dress already playing on repeat in my mind, I’d dump the beaded cage in the Hoover Dam and make her say her vows in thisexactoutfit right fucking now.

“Yeah?” she asks, scratching her head. Her eyes widen as she focuses on me. “Kenzo!”

I catch a glimpse inside. There are clothes everywhere, mostly male, and though it looks like she’s got her own bed, her cousin is passed out on the floor next to hers.

My shoulders tighten. He’s only her cousin, but Vi doesn’t need to live like this. Not when I’m in the picture.

She steps outside, closing the door behind her. “What are you doing here?”

I lift the hanger. “Brought you a wedding dress.”

She rubs her eyes. “You already sent over fifteen of them.”

“Those were from our designers. Ichosethis one.” A smug smile paints my lips, and I motion towards the motel. “Grab your bags.”

Her lips scrunch together. “Why?”

“You’re not sharing a room with two grown-ass men for another night.”

“I’ve been sleeping in the same room as them for almost mywholelife. For the whole week you’ve known me!”

I tsk her under my breath. It’s still a dump.

“This is the first time I’ve seen inside your room. You’re not staying here.”

“But Uncle Jay and Patrick?—”

I press a finger to my lips, and she falls silent. “My wife isn’t going to sleep in those conditions anymore.”

“Fiancée,” she corrects.

“Contract has been signed,wife,” I counter. “Let me take care of you.”

Her eyes narrow, and her snarky side comes up briefly for air. Maybe she’s too tired to pretend to be a prude, or maybe this is me pulling the real Vi out.

But her anger fades, and eventually she nods and goes back inside. The lights turn on in the room, and shadows move across the curtained windows. She returns with a suitcase and a duffel bag; I carry them to my Challenger and store them in the trunk.

We drive to Samurai Castle, and I escort her to the suites closest to the ballroom so she won’t have a long walk tomorrow.

A surge of excitement pumps through me.We’re getting married tomorrow.I never thought I’d be excited about my own wedding, but here I am.

I hold open the door, letting her inside. Her mouth hangs open; I can’t tell if it’s shock or fatigue. There’s a view of the Strip from the windows, and every fixture gleams with elegance. There’s even a fully stocked bar near the kitchen.

---