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“Have you spoken with Osaka? After all, you said I didn’t deserve to be owned forever.”
“Michie,” my tone’s deliberate, slow, plagued by regret for his dilemma. A conundrum that he caused. “Every time I am permitted to speak with my boss, I implore on your behalf. Every. Single. Time.”
“I know.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
Oh, no? No groveling, no begging?“Again, my mistake.” I offer one last apology before hanging up. I rise from the edge of the bed, toss the phone, and fork my hand through my long hair until I’ve pulled it into a knot.
Michie Yamazaki never placed a finger on his woman. Nevertheless, she endured misuse at his hands. That’s its own abuse. Like my mother, my new woman has been violated. The scars are evident, yet she won’t admit it.
I find myself seeking her out. As I knock on thefusuma, the maid slides the door open and exits, boxing Ryann into the room. The maid bends into a deep bow, then apologetically explains that Ryann has just finished showering.
“Let my guest know that I’m waiting for her. Also, find Umito.”
The maid nods, opens the door, and slides it shut behind her. I’m not permitted a simple glance at my future.
Stepping outside, I inhale a lung full of frigid, fresh air. Snowcapped mountains rise in the distance as I await Ryann’s presence. Behind me, the door slides open. I glimpse the maid’s reflection in the waters below, then turn around.
My brow tips.
The maid bows and makes another apology. “Miss Ryann is exhausted. Please return tomorrow.”
Over the next few days, the same scene plays out. The maid bends and bows until her knees clamor for the wooden planks, and she apologizes for Ryann’s lack of presence.
Another day offers another excuse, cushioned by a further apology and fear-wrought eyes. Aware that Ryann’s dismissed me, Umito’s gaze lays prostrate on each encounter over the next four days. I note a glint of curiosity as he silently questions why he’s here, bearing witness to this humiliation.
Is it for another thrashing?
The short answer is no.
Umito has a knack for recalling minor details. He’s also very intuitive. I wanted him to listen to Ryann’s story again while I comforted her. With my past, I’m not optimistic I can be objective.
“Miss.”
The maid cranes her neck from her bow as I hold out a small gift box and a letter.
“Please ensure that Ryann receives this.”
The maid arises, exhaling in relief. As she slips into Ryann’s quarters, not offering an extra inch of the viewing room, I turn to Umito and address him.
“She will explain herself. You will note the tedious details—names, locations—gather required intelligence.”
“Boss, might I suggest—”
“You may not.”
“But . . .”
My neck tracks slowly. I had not regarded Umito with a single glance while speaking to him, craving the first sight of Ryann. When my gander bores into Umito, his lips tremble into a stutter of incoherency. His throat clears, eyes averted.
At the sliding door, coils of hair fall into beguiling brown eyes. It’s the first time I’ve seen Ryann’s face not caked in makeup, covering the bruise around her eye. It’s refreshing. Her skin is perfection, and a radiance emanates from her. Ryann’s mouth creases in the smallest of smiles as she holds one arm over the knit dress covering her abdomen. The other hand clasps a piece of rice paper between two fingers.
“You have a way with words, Ryoichi. I’ll have you know that the diamond necklace is still in the box.” She shakes her head. “It’s too expensive a gift, but this letter . . . it’s priceless.” Ryann scraps her bottom lip between her teeth. “Did you come up with the poem?”
“Not a poem. Just . . . uh . . . sentiments. And . . . all I wanted to do was wish you a happy birthday.” I clear my throat.Ryoichi, you imbecile. “Poetry requires rhythm and prose that isn’t necessarily true. What I’ve said is true.”
