Page 36 of Cunning Lies
“What?” Kenzo says. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
“I can probably make a better candle myself.”
He licks his lips, genuine curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Youmakecandles?”
I shrug. I guess it’s not every day you meet someone who likes pouring wax.
“I dabble.” That’s downplaying it, but I don’t want to seem like a weirdo. My cousin likes to tease me about it.
“Interesting,” Kenzo says.
I roll my eyes playfully. He smacks my ass, and I yelp. His laughter floods the room, that infectious noise sending heat straight to my thighs. I like this—whateverthisis—with him, but I need to focus on finding information before he distracts me again.
“How was work?” I ask.
“Stockholder’s meetings can be dry. Gotta figure out what they’re after before I make my move.” He scans the living room. “What’d you do?”
“I was decorating,” I say. It sounds right. “Thought you may want some help unpacking.”
“Don’t bother. My driver will take you around the city. We can find a new place to move into next month.”
My neck tingles. He moves every month?
He flies down the hallway and I bound after him. I need to stop him before he gets to the office.
“I get to pick the next rental?” I ask.
“We’ll switch off.”
“What about in the Fremont area? What if—”
“Wherever you want.”
He stops at the office, furrowing his brows. My stomach clenches as he closes the door, using his phone to lock it.
“Were you in here?” he asks.
He must know every time I lie, so I make up a half truth: “I wanted to decorate.”
His tongue swipes over his lips as he studies me, like he knows there’s something else to it, not just the interior design instincts.
Before he can figure it out, I change the subject: “That record collection. Did you collect those from your targets over the years? Trophies from your victims?”
He laughs and goes into the master bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt. His chest is chiseled with muscle, like he takes pride in his body, but it’s the tattoos that take my breath away. Every inch, from his neck down to his groin, is covered in koi fish, flowers, and dark ocean waves. We fucked on the balcony yesterday, but this is the first time I’m seeing him naked. Even with the mix of blue, orange, and purple, there’s an ominous tone to his body.
He’s a masterpiece, and a killer. I gawk at him like an idiot.
“You think all we do is steal, huh?” he asks, taking off his shoes. “Just like you stole that sample out of my pocket, huh?”
Heat ripples in my cheeks. He smirks at my dropped jaw.
“It’s not like law-abiding citizens are the only ones who value hard work,” he says. “The yakuza works hard too.”
He’s right. Uncle Jay, Patrick, and I work hard in our own ways, even if we are criminals too.
“So where’d you get the record collection, then?” I ask.
“It was a present.” He spreads his arms, shifting his weight on the bed like nothing in this world can disturb him, and that peace unsettles me. Normally, you can see a person’s weaknesses when they’re in their own homes—they’re too comfortable to hide them—but Kenzo acts like he has the world at his feet. Like I’m simply another vinyl record he’ll play.
