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“I already had the antiquity appraised,” Demyen drawls, still not directly looking at us.
Raizo chuckles. “Of course you would. I don’t blame you. Such a thing of exquisite beauty is meant to be thoroughly appraised… andenjoyed.” His fingers slide around to just below my ass, but when I lean away, he calmly grips my thigh and holds me there. “You wouldn’t fault an old man for wanting to assure the quality.”
Demyen cocks a brow. “I didn’t know you like your merchandise to be handled so frequently.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” Raizo pats my ass, then drops his hand to the armrest. “I must be honest: I am more than tempted to make an offer myself.”
For some reason, that makes Demyen freeze mid-flip of a folder. He slowly looks up at Raizo, then at me, that vein in his jaw ticcing. Call me crazy, but he looks like that actually pisses him off.
But then he relaxes and scoffs. “You can’t resist playing your buyers for the highest bid.”
Raizo laughs and nods. “True enough. It is a weakness of mine. But I’m serious, my friend; I may make you an unforgettable offer to?—”
Demyen’s phone buzzes on the desk. After a quick glance at the screen, he tucks the files away and stands. “You’ll have to excuse us. It seems we have an unexpected guest in the pit. Give Bambi a call to reschedule.”
The Yakuza lord frowns as he stands. “We have much to discuss?—”
“And we will. Later.”
Raizo straightens his jacket and doesn’t say anything. It may be eons since I last saw him, but I recognize that expression all the same. It’s a good thing Demyen has a grip on the situation, because only an idiot with a death wish would stare unblinking into the face of a pissed-off Raizo Watanabe.
The man slides his gaze to me. I wish I could take some comfort in the little smile he offers, but it only makes my skin crawl.
“See you soon, sweet flower.”
God, I hope not.
54
CLARA
Demyen is silent in the elevator. He’s avoided looking directly at me since the encounter with Raizo. I don’t know if I have the energy or the desire to decode his mood swings today, so I just stare at his back and try not to think too much.
He gestures for me to wait at a cocktail table while he checks on something with Bambi, who is over at the bar sipping a martini and reviewing her tablet.
I do as he bids and drum my fingers on the tall tabletop.Don’t think, don’t think, don’t?—
“Clara.”
Shit.
I thought this particular problem of mine was gone. I’m pretty sure Demyen thought so, too.
Guess we both thought wrong.
Martin grabs my arm and spins me around to face him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
I offer him a tight smile. It’s the best I can do while my stomach churns. “I’m sure you have.”
“Look. I know I was a jerk. And I’m sorry. I just?—”
“Just… what?” I scoff. Now, I really wish I’d ordered a drink just to have something to throw in his face. “Just thought you could treat me like your punching bag? Teach my daughter to hide her face while Mommy gets slapped around?”
His face narrows into a dangerous glare. It used to frighten me, especially when we were alone in his house.
But we’re not in his house right now. We’re in someone else’s.
And that someone, I can see in the corner of my eye, is watching this little conversation very closely.
