Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
I put my hand on my chest because my heart was aching.
My grandma had armed yakuza helping her with groceries and home repairs, and she thought it was just cultural politeness.
It was one thing for Kenji to spoil me, but to spoil my grandma. . .well that would keep me next to him for life.
"Yesterday, I made them some cookies. Chocolate chip pecan. You know, my special recipe that got the sheriff to lower my speeding ticket. I took them right on over there and they was bowing and everything. So much respect. I started bowing too."
My throat tightened with emotion. "I bet they loved those cookies."
"Lord, child, they went crazy over them cookies! Ate every single one right in front me like they hadn't had a home-cooked meal in years. Crumbs was exploding all over the place. Would have put shame to the Cookie Monster himself. He might have gasped at how they were acting.”
I laughed so loud it startled the guards.
“They've got muscles, but they’re still so tiny and skinny for Charleston. I don't think they're getting enough food, bless their hearts. So, after they paint that porch, I'm gonna make them up something real nice to eat. A proper southern meal. Get them to sit down and eat right. They order too much food. Delivery people always zipping over there. Bags and bags of fried stuff. No, ma’am. Can't have them running around doing all this work for Grandma on empty stomachs."
"That's sweet of you."
"Well, they're sweet boys. Very respectful. And anybody who helps this old woman deserves a good meal."
My chest ached with affection for her—this woman who would adopt an entire yakuza protection detail just because they fixed her fence and carried her groceries.
"Grandma, you've got to snap a picture of them for me and send it."
"Now Nyomi, why would I do that?"
"I'm just. . .intrigued. Maybe when they're painting the porch?"
"We'll see. Maybe. Now let me go, baby, it's too late. I can’t stay up like I used to. Grandma been stressed all day about you. Now I can calm down, turn on the news, and get some sleep.”
“I understand.”
“But I'm so glad my grandbaby is doing okay. Now I thought Tokyo was safe. Didn’t know they was bombing over there. Now you get back to the States soon, you hear?"
"Yes, Grandma."
"And baby, with all that bombing mess, you make sure that island man is treating you right and keeping you safe. If something happened to my grandbaby, I'd have to fly over there and handle it myself. You hear me?"
"Yes, Grandma. I love you."
"Love you too."
The line went dead, and I stood there on the stairs, phone still pressed to my ear, and unable to move.
The guards waited silently behind me, giving me space.
Wow. . .
I lowered the phone slowly and stared at the screen—at Grandma's contact photo, the one I'd taken last Christmas when she was laughing at something my cousin said. Her face lit up with joy, wearing that ridiculous reindeer sweater she loved.
That woman—fierce, protective, full of joy—was being watched over by ten elite yakuza soldiers.
And she had no idea.
She thought they were just nice young men who needed feeding.
A laugh bubbled up in my chest, but it came out broken, tangled with something that felt dangerously close to tears.
I pressed my hand to my mouth.
The scarred guard shifted slightly. "Are you alright?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice yet.
But I wasn't alright.
I was overwhelmed.
Because this—this—was what loving the Dragon meant. It wasn't just silk sheets, dangerous sex, and whispered words in the dark. It wasn't just being claimed, protected, and worshipped.
It was this.
It was Kenji reaching across continents to safeguard people he'd never met. People who didn't even know his name. People whose only connection to him was me.
My grandmother would never know that the "nice young men" across the street were trained killers who would die before letting anything happen to her.
My mother would never know she was being watched.
My father—complicated, distant, broken—would never know that even behind bars, someone was making sure he stayed safe.
Because of me.
Because I mattered to the Dragon.
I started walking again, descending the rest of the stairs slowly, my legs feeling unsteady.
The guards followed, silent and respectful.
When I reached the bottom, I stopped and turned to face them.
All three straightened slightly.
"Could you get a message to the men in Charleston?"
One nodded.
“Okay. Good. Please. . .tell them. . .thank you for helping my grandma out. And if they hurt her feelings by refusing her food, I'll be very upset, so. . .they must eat."
The scarred guard's mouth twitched with an almost smile. "I'll pass that along."
I nodded and turned away, heading toward my office, but my vision blurred. I blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall.
Not here.
Not in front of the guards.
But inside, my emotions had cracked wide open.