Page 41 of Bitter Prince
My mother tilted her head, studying me pensively. “I don’t know whether to believe you,musuko.” She only called me “son” in Japanese when she was worried. “But you’ve never lied to me before, so I will trust you.”
I should have felt guilty, but I didn’t. My hatred for Romero was stronger than my honor. My interest in the girl with golden curls was even stronger than my hate.
“Have you gotten any closer to getting Ojisan’s contract?” I shook my head, studying my mother. She wanted that piece of paper with a desperation I didn’t understand. Even more so since my grandfather’s death. There were only two copies of it in this world, one was with Romero, the other had been with my grandfather. We had reason to believe my cousin destroyed it when he had our grandfather murdered.
“What makes you think Romero wouldn’t have burned the document, reducing it to ashes?” I questioned my mother.
She took a sip of her tea, holding the delicate china. The slightest impact against the table and it would shatter into pieces. Just like all the ghosts that seemed to dance around us.
“Tomaso Romero always kept documents like they were treasures,” she answered. “He’d say you never knew when you could use them again. Who you could use them against.”
Sometimes I wondered how she knew so much about Romero’s habits. They’d only known each other for a short time before Romero’s wandering eye landed on Grace Bergman.
“You never explained how you actually met him?” I asked suddenly.
The question must have caught her by surprise because it took her a few heartbeats to answer. “He came to discuss moving a certain product for Ojisan.” It could either be drugs or human trafficking. Romero didn’t move weapons. At least not successfully. “They couldn’t agree on terms. Later that night, your grandfather hosted a party and I was allowed to attend.”
Her gaze darted to the window, watching the city and probably getting lost in her memories.
“And?” I urged her softly.
Her eyes returned to me. “It was the first time I came across a western man. I found it exciting, and Romero saw how much I meant to my father, being his only daughter. I guess he thought he could leverage Ojisan with me. And like a fool, I went along.”
My jaw clenched. It sounded like a typical dickhead move. “You were too young and sheltered.”
She nodded. “That’s why we need that document, Amon. We don’t want him to use it as leverage.”
I let out a sardonic breath. “But what could he possibly use that’s in there?”
“There were provisions in there for me, my children, and his. Our children.”
I frowned. “Well, his children are not yours, so not sure that you have to worry about that. Your children are not his, and you two never got married.”
My mother shook her head. “Romero had Ojisan put a provision in there for each of his children specifically, in case something should happen to me and he remarried. That would now include his daughters.”
That was news to me, although the explanation made no sense. Ojisan was notorious for his distaste for outsiders in his organization. He wouldn’t have allowed Romero any connection to the Yakuza outside my mother. “But you two never got married,” I pointed out again. “It makes the whole agreement null and void.”
The look on my mother’s face told me she wasn’t convinced.
“But that document is important,” she muttered. “I just know it. We need to read those provisions.”
I sighed. My mother might have been a sheltered Yakuza princess, but her stubbornness exceeded those of most men.
“What kind of provision?” I questioned, although I truly believed it was pointless to worry about it.
“I’m not sure, since I wasn’t allowed to participate in their discussions.” My sixth sense warned there was more to it than she was admitting. “But I also believe that document indicates Ojisan’s plan to have you take over the Yakuza and all his businesses.”
“I’m already in the Yakuza,” I reminded her. “Besides, you two broke it off, sothatdocument cannot be that important.”
“Not as its leader, you’re not.” I was working on that, but I didn’t want to alarm her. Treason in the Yakuza meant death. There was no need to put extra worry on Mamma’s shoulders. “Also, let’s not forget that Romero doesn’t have any connection to the Yakuza,” she pointed out. My brows scrunched at her reasoning. “And we want to keep it that way.” After Romero stole my cousin’s shipment, there was no chance in hell that he’d ever do business with him. “I don’t believe Ojisan ever updated the document to reflect Romero’s betrayal, which might be a problem for his daughters.”
“Since when do you care about his daughters?”
She placed her cup on the table soundlessly. “I don’t, but I care about you, and that document names you as Ojisan’s heir.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter, Mamma. Itsuki won’t accept that document, and you know that. I’ll have to beat him with my brains, power, and my own wealth.”
“So Hiroshi keeps telling me.” It was clear by the tone of her voice she didn’t agree with that approach. “You know Tomaso Romero was ashamed of me.” The change of subject was jarring and it took me a moment to adjust. Mamma liked to do that a lot when hitting a wall.
