“And yet you love me.”
“Reluctantly.”
We rounded the corner and that was when we both stopped short at the sight.
Uh. . .what is going on?
Chapter nineteen
Brainstorming
Nyomi
There, standing beside the elevator, was a large, muscular man in a black suit so sharp it probably had its own sword license. He was death in couture—hands folded, chin tipped, and a faint smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes.
Yakuza.
We walked slowly forward.
He saw us, inclined his head and without a word pressed the elevator button for us.
Zo whispered. “That’s one ofhismen. The Dragon. . .”
“I’m aware.”
“Do I bow? Do I curtsey? Should I go back in the apartment to offer him the kimono?”
“Stop it.” I elbowed him, trying not to laugh again as the elevator dinged. “No one wants that kimono. Only God knows what’s on it.”
“Well, it did get dirty.”
We approached the elevator.
The man stared forward and didn’t look at us.
Zo whispered. “I feel like I’m about to get invited to a very exclusive funeral.”
The elevator dinged.
The doors opened.
We stepped inside.
So did the guard.
O-kayyyy. . .
The doors closed us three in and the elevator lowered.
The guard stood perfectly still, not speaking, not even blinking. He just remained in the elevator like an expensive statue that could kill.
Zo tried not to breathe.
I, on the other hand, was growing far too used to this level of Kenji’s absurdity.
Alright. Apparently, I now have a personal guard. Got it.
Once the doors opened at the bottom, we stepped out into the warm Tokyo sunlight. The air smelled of espresso, Chanel No. 5, and secondhand ambition.