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Nothing flagged my attention as being “off” about him. He was just Uncle Raizo, a man of many secrets who whispered to Mom and slipped me little toys and candies from Japan.
Always while Dad was at work, though. That was the secret Uncle Raizo kept with us. Mom made sure I never breathed a word about our visitor by telling me he was a “secret agent” and we needed to keep him safe. Just like in the movies.
It wasn’t until I was in high school that I found out who “Uncle” Raizo actually worked for.
Dad had come home from an afternoon shift in time for dinner, but instead of acknowledging the warm meal Mom painstakingly arranged for us, he threw his paperwork down and complained about the increased violence between territories.The Yakuza,he explained,hate everyone but their own.He flipped through manila folders angrily, stabbing his finger at stats and photos while he cursed the very existence of “these slimy motherfuckers” who’d recently shot up a rival’s nightclub.
Uncle Raizo was in one of those photos. Dad grumbled something about him being an “up-and-comer.” I saw the way Mom froze in her seat. Thankfully, Dad didn’t, but he still found reason to yell at her for getting gravy on his dossier.
The only time I saw Raizo and my father speak to each other was the day of Mom’s funeral. I didn’t think much of it; so many people approached Dad to express their condolences and offer support. No one seemed to notice or care that a Japanese antiquities expert attended the funeral and discreetly pulled the grieving widower aside to talk business.
I may have been young, but notthatyoung. I could feel the tension between them from where I hid behind a column in the mausoleum. Whatever they spoke about, it had nothing to do with loss or grief or sympathy. Dad looked more pissed than consoled after Raizo left.
It’s been several years since. Raizo is older now, with silver streaking through his thick hair, but he’s still just as handsome and powerful in the way he moves. His men stand around him and walk with him the same way Demyen’s men do. It’s obvious “Uncle” Raizo is no longer up-and-coming; he hasarrived.
Does Demyen know?
Is this about to become a bloodbath?
I step away from the windows to pace around the room some more. I’m not sure if I should risk Demyen’s wrath by leaving the office to go warn him that his rivals, enemies,whatever, are in his casino and looking like they’re up to something.
I’m also not sure how Raizo would react to finding out I’m shacking up with a Bratva boss.
The man in question starts walking away from the table with his men. He doesn’t seem to be going anywhere near Demyen. I let out a sigh of relief, even though I don’t feel any less anxious.
I need to splash some cold water on my face. Calm down. Regroup and relax until Demyen comes back.
There’s a small bathroom nestled in one side of the office. It’s just what I need to cool off and tell my reflection to breathe. The water actually does help bring me back to focus and I let the droplets roll over my skin for a moment before I reach for a towel and dab myself dry.
Nothing to worry about. Let Demyen handle all this. Just lie low and be good.
Sounds like a good plan to me.
I flick off the light to the bathroom and step back into the office when I hear the door lock beep and click open. I actually smile, feeling genuinely happy to see Demyen back so quickly?—
But it’s not Demyen who steps inside and stares at me.
My heart leaps into my throat at the same time my ribcage collapses in on my lungs.
Uncle Raizo doesn’t look any less surprised.
53
CLARA
Raizo’s gaze never leaves me. His stride is slow, lazy, calculated. When he’s within reach, he touches my hair almost reverently.
“Well, well. For a moment, I swore I was looking at a ghost.”
I muster a smile through my nervous tension. “It’s been a while.”
He snorts out a laugh and nods, dropping his hand. “That’s putting it lightly.” He takes a step back and slowly shakes his head with a sigh. “Little Clara. How you’ve grown.”
The part of me that remembers him from so long ago blushes.
Raizo glances around Demyen’s office and chuckles. “I see you really are just like your mother. Beautiful, tempting—and riding the edge of danger.”
No idea what he’s talking about, but okay, sure. I force my smile to widen and will my hands to stop trembling as I gesture to what looks like a minibar. “Care for a drink?”
