I laughed, startled out of the heaviness for the first time in twenty minutes. “Yes, Olivero. You too.”
Pietro looked at him with visible displeasure.
“Why don’t you go see what the pilot is doing?” he said.
Olivero blinked. “I’m fairly certain I’m not meant to supervise aviation.”
“Then start learning.”
“You’re hostile because she likes me.”
“No,” Pietro said. “I am hostile because you keep speaking.”
Olivero leaned back in his seat with a grin that suggested he had no intention of stopping. “This is why people prefer me.”
I shook my head, still smiling, and let my shoulder rest lightly against Pietro’s.
He didn’t look at me, but his fingers tightened around mine for the briefest second, and that tiny movement said more than anything else could have.
Whatever waited in Seattle, I had to face it.
I must have been more exhausted than I realized, or maybe it was simply Pietro’s warmth and the clean, spicy scent of him that made me feel safe. Either way, at some point I closed myeyes, and when I opened them again, his lips were brushing my forehead and the plane had landed.
By the time we reached the bottom of the stairs, a car was waiting on the tarmac, along with an Asian man so imposing he made me miss a step.
If Alessandro Benetti had an aura, this man had something denser, darker, and even less forgiving.
“Oh, for the love of God,” Pietro muttered, frowning as he tightened his grip on my hand to steady me on the steps.
“I thought you were sending a driver.”
“Rude nephew,” the man said smoothly. “Jiro and I are here on business. I thought I might as well come and meet you…and the beautiful Emily.”
My face burned at once.
He removed his sunglasses, revealing a pair of stunning, unsettling tawny eyes that managed to feel both warm and dangerous at the same time.
“Emily,” he said, inclining his head with effortless elegance, “you’ll have to excuse Pietro’s lack of manners. My name is Hoka Nishimura, and I’m this rude one’s uncle.”
His smile only made him more alarming.
Hoka.
My eyes widened before I could stop them, and I took a small step back on instinct as recognition slammed into place. This was not just an uncle. This wastheHoka Nishimura. Head of the yakuza. Not just in some local, abstract sense either. Everywhere that mattered.
“Ah,” he said with a soft sigh, clearly reading everything that crossed my face. “I see you’ve heard of me.”
Pietro shrugged. “I may have mentioned you in passing.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You really didn’t need to be here,” Pietro said, and I didn’t miss the undercurrent in his tone. “I’m sure you have better places to be.”
I looked back toward Olivero, who had already set my suitcase down by his feet. “It’s okay,” I said quickly. “You can go with your uncle. I’ll just take a taxi home. It’s only twenty?—”
“Nonsense,” Hoka said smoothly. “I’m here to take you where you need to go. And perhaps, when you have a moment to breathe again, you might join my wife and me for dinner.”
Pietro arched a brow now. “Oh. Aunt Violet is here too. Pregnant and all.” His mouth flattened. “I see. What a coincidence.”
