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A pair of men in all-black tuxedos casually cut us off before we reach what looks like a back exit. They smell like expensive cologne and regard Demyen with a combination of respect and forced civility. Like they don’t want to piss him off, but they’re also in no mood to argue.
“Mr. Watanabe wants to speak with you.”
“He insists,” the second man quickly adds.
Watanabe?I know that name. Where do I know it from?
Watanabe…
Wait. Raizo.
Raizo Watanabe.
Shit.
These men are Yakuza. They have to be. They’re Yakuza, intercepting Demyen, and Dad’s right over there…
The feeling that something’s not right has just turned into a blaring alarm complete with bright flashing lights and a deafening siren.
Demyen clenches his jaw as he thinks it over. Then he turns to me and practically grabs my chin to make me look him in the eyes. “Don’t move. Don’t move from this exact fucking spot. Do you understand?”
I nod. I feel like I’m being the world’s biggest idiot by trusting him yet again, but here we are and here I am. Nodding and listening to the part of me that “knows” he’s gonna do right by us. He’s gonna protect me.
Hopefully.
Maybe.
“I’ll be right here,” I promise him. There’s a lounge chair for me to sit on, so I do. It does seem to ease a small bit of his tension, because he lets out a sigh and nods to the men.
Once they leave, I start praying that no one approaches me.Leave me alone, world. I’m no one, I’m not here. I’m not worth anyone’s curiosity.
God or Lady Luck or whoever seems to be hearing me, because for the most part, I am left entirely unbothered. One or two waiters swing by to offer me champagne, but I graciously thank them and shake my head.
I don’t know where Dad’s gone off to and I don’t feel like finding out. For one, I don’t want to gamble with Demyen’s good side by immediately breaking my promise, and his trust, by leaving this exact spot.
But also, I just straight-up don’t want to know why Dad is here. He’s definitely not undercover, but he’s also obviously not everyone’s friend, either. And since I don’t see anyone else from LVPD here—as far as I can tell—it means he’s here in an unofficial capacity.
But doing what?
Nope, I don’t want to know. I don’tneedto know.
What I do need to know is where the nearest restroom is.
I’ve been ignoring the growing pressure in my bladder since we got here, mainly because I had a lot more on my mind and a man’s iron grip on me adhering me to his side. But now that I’m alone, sitting down, and somewhat relaxed, my body is urging me to go find a bathroom quickly and rush back here before Demyen returns.
I glance around to make sure he’s still gone before I duck toward that same back exit he’d been gunning us for. The doors open up into another quiet hallway, this one a bit smaller and clearlydesigned to be a restroom area for guests to powder their nose in.
Thank God. This will be the fastest pee break I’ve ever?—
A hand grabs my arm and yanks hard. Another hand clamps down over my mouth.
“You little slut.”
My blood runs cold.
Martin buries his face in the curve of my neck and inhales deeply. He hums his approval, then drags me back into the shadows where we both know no one will see us.
27
