Page 6 of Crossed By the Stars
“Why are you running late?” Dax asked. The deep timbre of his voice washed over me, raising goosebumps different from the ones that had littered my body ever since finding the note on my bed the night before.
Rana and her team had taken it as a personal affront that someone had sneaked in on their watch and gone unseen on the security cameras. I’d taken it as a personal affront to the moneyI’d been spending for them to keep me safe. But I also knew the truth. If my father and theKyodainawere coming after me, nothing would stand in their way—especially not three or four bodyguards.Otosan’sminions would simply kill them and leave a bloody trail behind as a message to others.
“I had some things come up. Again, what are you doing here?” I asked.
He closed the distance between us until his sneakers were mere inches from my stilettos—a mix of apparel that shouldn’t have worked and yet seemed oddly to fit in a way Dax and I would never be able to. Before I could react, his finger hit my chin, drawing my eyes up to his. He searched them, looking for something. Answers or the truth?I wasn’t sure which. Either way, he wouldn’t get them from me, even though the physical contact was almost enough to break me. I wanted desperately to lean into someone, to be held while words were murmured in my ear about how it was all going to be okay.
But that was not my life. Hadn’t been my life in a very long time. EvenObaasanhadn’t been able to help me shoulder my world since the day I’d opened the study in her 5th Avenue apartment to find a man screaming over his lost pinkie, blood dripping onto the desk and the floor.
“I thought you could accompany me to the boat show,” Dax said, but he was really saying something else. There was worry in his eyes. I closed mine, pushed his hand away, and slid away from him, putting the desk between us.
“Violet and Dawson called you,” I said. It wasn’t a question. It was the only reason he’d be here. He would never come willingly. He’d come because they’d asked him to check in on me. I shouldn’t have called Violet this morning. I’d known my fear would leach into the conversation, but I’d, selfishly, needed to hear something good. And Vi’s voice, full of happiness and love, was just that. A salve to my soul.
“Yes,” he said. Dax was almost always honest, even if he tried to soften the blows the truth usually dealt. He slid his hands into his pockets and rocked slightly, as if he was willing himself to stand still. I wasn’t sure if he was fighting the urge to run away or lunge toward me. The sexual tension that always dangled between us was thick this morning, forbidden yearning amplified by not having seen each other since our friends’ wedding.
“I’m fine. I told Violet I was tired from helpingObaasan.” I kept my voice smooth. Casual.Nothing to see here. Go away.
“Did you see anyone else in New York?” he asked.
“Yuriko, who is thrilled to be working for your father now. I’m really happy he picked up her clothing line.” I sat down, reached for my phone, and spun it around. Dax’s eyes on my hand made it still. The phone was an old tell—one he’d read many times before.
“You didn’t see your father, then?” he asked.
I scoffed, “Please.”
“Jada, you might as well come clean. What’s going on?” he asked.
I bristled. I was tired of men telling me what to do, telling me how to run my life. Dawson may have been an equal financial partner inForce de la Violettewith Violet and me, but he never inserted himself into it. We ran it the way we wanted. No one told me where to go, or where to stand, or when to speak anymore. No one.
I picked up my laptop, a notebook, and several papers from my desk and shoved them fiercely into the beautiful bag Yuriko had designed just for me. It was leather, satin, and brocade mixed in a way fabric wasn’t supposed to be blended. As I pushed the stack of items inside it, several papers went flying across the desk.
Dax caught them, shuffling them together and then stilling.
As I realized what he held, my heart pounded loudly before stopping completely.
Dax couldn’t read Japanese. He was smart?brilliant in many ways?but the Japanese he knew was all oral. The problem was, the image on the parchment spoke volumes even if he didn’t understand the words. His eyes squinted as he took in the drawing of akaikenstabbing into a slim wrist with blood oozing out from the cut.
“What’s this?” he asked, thick brows furrowing. In a sea of handsome features, Dax’s eyes were near the top. They were naturally lined, as if he’d been tattooed with permanent liner. It was sexy and beautiful all at the same time, but when he turned to meet my gaze, there was anger in those dark depths and not the lust that normally resided there when looking at me.
I reached across the desk to try and grab the note from him, but he pulled it away and took a step back.
“Jada. Did you get a warning? From theKyodaina? Because you went to see your grandmother?”
“No,” I lied perfectly.
He waved the paper at me. “Then what,pour l'amour de Dieu, is this?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, rolled my eyes, and said, “It’s a drawing, Armaud. Give it back.”
“Did you draw it?” Concern filled his voice for a different reason. A woman slitting her wrist.Kaikenshad been used for ritualized suicides for centuries.
“I’m not that talented with a pen,” I told him. “I’m also not ready to commit suicide, but if you don’t hand it back to me, leave me alone, and tell the super twins to back off, I might be close to committing murder.”
He took out his phone and snapped a picture.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked. I was around the desk and in his space before he could move farther away. I grabbed the paper, and he grabbed my wrist.
“Tell me what it says, or I’ll send it to someone who can.” The slow growl in his voice was appealing in all the ways it shouldn’t have been.
