Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 101427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
What the fuck?!
I glanced behind me. The door was still open with Reo in the center, now blocking the maybe-baby mama and her court from coming in.
Oh shit. That’s still happening?
Reo’s voice tore through the air in sharp, rapid-fire Japanese. Low at first—controlled, clipped—but with that undercurrent of danger I’d heard before in Kenji.
A warning wrapped in restraint.
Then the maybe-baby mama shrieked something back. Her voice pitched like broken glass, and her royal court leapt into the fray, tossing words here and there and pointing fingers in my direction.
Oh this is getting out of hand.
It was a swirl of high voices, dramatic gasps, and offended huffs.
Messy.
Operatic.
And loud enough that many of the men inside the war room actually looked up from their work.
One man near the far corner—tall, scarred, with a gun resting across his thigh—let out an audible sigh and shook his head like he couldn’t believe the drama that was happening.
Another muttered under his breath in Japanese, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it with more attitude than need.
They must be talking some major hot shit about my being in here. Good. That’s what they get fucking with me. She started it. I had planned to keep it classy.
Turning back around and walking forward, I didn’t even give that ruckus any more thought.
Let Reo handle them. Not my monkeys. Not my circus.
Then I made it to the Dragon, and what I assumed to be his inner circle. I stopped four feet in front of Kenji.
Not three.
Not two.
Four.
It was intentional and calculated.
If he wanted to touch me. . .if he wanted to close that space between us. . .he would have to leave the desk, step forward, and cross the line.
And maybe that was petty. Or maybe it was power. Because the way he was looking at me made my heart pound so hard I could feel it in my earlobes. His gaze was pure fire—unfiltered, unapologetic.
He hadn’t stopped staring at me since I walked in, and it was getting harder to keep my own expression neutral, like I didn’t want to be dragged across that desk and kissed in front of his entire goddamn empire.
But still, I held the line.
I wasn’t going to be the one to close the distance.
Not here.
Not in this room.
Because this wasn’t just any room—it was a war room. A sacred space for strategy and blood. And even more than that, it was his war room. A place where every movement was watched, every gesture decoded. A place where power didn’t just speak—it breathed, observed, and remembered.
And I wasn’t just navigating criminal territory now.
I was in Japan.
This was also a cultural space.
And I had to remember that.
This wasn’t New York.
Japan was about respect.
About boundaries.
About privacy and posturing.
Therefore, if he wanted me, he’d have to step forward. And judging by the look in his eyes, it was only a matter of time.
Mmmm.
Today, the Dragon wore a long-sleeve black shirt—designer, of course—that clung to the carved planes of his chest and arms. The fabric hugged the layers of his sculpted body, and his black slacks sat low on his hips, casual and dangerous.
But it was his bare feet that threw me.
Why is this man so damn perfect?
Every toe had been arranged by a sculptor with a God complex. His nails buffed, neat. Not a speck of rough skin in sight. Nails painted black.
Oh, my man definitely gets weekly pedicures. Alright. I guess. . .I have a little foot fetish too. . .
His hair was damp, slicked back, as if he’d recently stepped out of the shower.
What’s this?
A tiny bandage curved high along his cheekbone.
When did he get injured? What the fuck?
Kenji let me drank him in and remained still leaning against the desk—but just barely. Every muscle in his body looked primed to launch. His knuckles flexed against the wood. His jaw twitched. His lusty eyes locked on mine, and for a second, I swore I saw the moment he almost said fuck it.
Almost lunged.
Almost pulled me in.
Almost bent me over the nearest skyscraper in that 3D Tokyo and tore this damn outfit in two.
I knew for a fact that if it weren’t for his men being around, I would have already been naked and getting deliciously fucked.
The air between us was a live wire.
He inhaled me.
Loudly.
His eyes fluttered half-closed, and he let out a low, guttural groan that made every inch of my body throb.
It was so loud that Lollipop guy snapped his head toward Kenji. His brows shot up in amused disbelief and then a wicked little snicker left him. It was so damned loud that the men near the back of the room stirred and began to come over.
Three of them approached first. One had platinum-blond hair tied back in a low knot. His gaze flicked between me and Kenji.
Beside him, another drifted forward, mohawk slicing through the air like a blade. He didn’t blink much. Just stared at me.