Page 1 of Crossed By the Stars
Jada
EMPRESS
“You're angry but you don't know how to be that yet
It seems too much went wrong and all at once.”
Performed by Snow Patrol
Written by Lightbody / Wilson / Connolly / Quinn / Lee / McDaid
Glossary of Terms & Translations
I wasn’t really watching as Ranaclearedthe penthouse. Instead, I was toeing off my heels and heading for the kitchen with my mind focused on the single glass of saké I allowed myself at night. The hint of fruit in my grandmother’sJuyondaihad become one of my only addictions after years of having multitudes. Ten years ago?even five years ago?I would have denied any predilection for the alcohol. Not because it wasObaasan’sfavorite but because it reminded me too much of all the things in my past I was trying to escape.
My thoughts and emotions were heavy, weighing me down. The darkness of my father’s world seemed to have followed me back from New York City without ever having seen him. Just being in my grandmother’s apartment had been enough for the memories I’d spent a decade trying to escape to flood back in.
I’d just finished pouring as Rana came down the metal and glass stairs and joined me. The kitchen felt more hotel restaurant than home with its white cupboards and enormous stainless-steel appliances, but seeing as I rarely ate there—and cooked even less—there wasn’t much point in redoing it, especially not when I had a company to run and a new factory expansion to plan that was keeping me busy.
Rana’s eyes landed on the expensive bottle in my hand.
“Want some?” I asked, knowing she’d say no. She never drank on the job.
She shook her head, sending the dark-brown waves she’d pulled back into a thick ponytail swaying about her tan face. Rana was stunningly beautiful and would have fit right in with the circle of trust-fund babies I used to hang out with. Maybe it was the luxury labels on her black leather jacket and low-heeled military boots that made her seem more a part of my world than the mere bodyguard she was. We weren’t friends. But in another life, we probably could have been.
“You’re clear,” she said, tucking her revolver in the waistband at her back where it disappeared under her jacket. “You’re in for the night, right?”
I nodded, sipping on the saké and fighting the urge to swallow it whole and pour myself another ten glasses. I had to get up at five in the morning if I wanted to meet my physical trainer before heading to theForce de la Violetteoffices at eight. I couldn’t afford a hangover.
Thoughts of the company I owned with my best friends, Violet and Dawson, pushed aside the heaviness inside my chest. I loved our company. I loved what we stood for and what we created. The chemical formulas living in Violet’s brain werethe reason we had a business at all, but I was the reason our skincare and beauty products had become a worldwide sensation. I knew how to market to the masses, just like I knew how to cut the multi-million-dollar deals that made our partners feel like they’d won a marathon.
I was my father’s daughter, after all.
I cringed. I wanted to be nothing like him.
And just like that, the weight I’d pushed aside for all of two seconds settled back over me.
“Nyra’s in the lobby tonight, and Bobby’s in the building’s security room,” Rana said.
“Okay,” I said with a careless shrug.
In the two years Rana’s team had been with me, I hadn’t once needed to call them. They did their jobs, clearing the Mercedes, my apartment, and the offices atViolette, but it was all for naught. With as little action as they saw, I sometimes wondered if I should cancel their contract and save the small fortune I was paying them. But Dawson and Violet would probably have simultaneous heart attacks if I did.
Rana headed for the door, and I followed.
“If anything changes in your schedule?”
“I know the drill, Rana,” I told her.
She took me in, head to toe, stalling at the drink in my hand and the dark circles under my eyes. “Get some rest. You look like shit.”
I snorted, and she smiled before leaving.
I turned the three locks behind her and then headed across the marble floors filled with modern art and furniture. The vibrant tones made it look like a tapestry had thrown up on the space. I ignored the way it made my stomach turn just like I’d ignored my distaste of the kitchen. Instead, I let the wall of windows draw me in. They were what had sold me on the fully furnished apartment. Even on the grayest of days in San Francisco, light still poured through the glass that stretched the width and height of the two stories.
The view the windows provided of the city and the ocean beyond it settled me. Or maybe it was the simple fact that I lived in a place where my father never lingered. Hiroto Matsuda wasOtosan’sregional boss on the Pacific Coast, and he always had theKyodaina’sbusiness well in hand. It didn’t require my father to put in an appearance to keep the organization in check like he had to in other parts of the world.
I dragged myself from the windows and glided up the staircase to the second floor and my bedroom. It was tucked at the back of a massive loft with only a brightly patterned comforter standing out against the starkness of the space and the gray shadows of the nighttime skyline.
