Gangster In A Suit. (Book 1)

Chapter 20

I slip on a navy-blue floral dress, belted, with guipure lace at the hemming. Short-sleeved.

Strolling out of the walk-in wardrobe, I pause near the doorway.

"Orian," Torin calls out in a bored voice. "Hadasā wa doko no Orian?"

I reveal myself, stepping into the room, amused by his stunned expression.

"What...." His finger bounces to me, then gestures to the room expansively. "Don't tell me you're fu—"

"No!" I scream with unimaginable disgust, as if it would be the worst thing ever. "No, Orian said that all the rooms are occupied by crew and security."

Torin cracks into a short, wry laugh. "Is that what he told you?" He snickers on, shaking his head. "Darling, there's like ten other cabins available."

What?

 "You've seen how big the yacht is. I just think a part of you wanted to believe him." Torin snorts, looking away. The open journal on the foot of the bed draws his attention, and he makes a beeline for it.

"Bastard," I say with clenched teeth.

Torin picks up the journal and examines it briefly. Then turns it around, tapping his finger on the page. "What's this?"

I do a quick scan. "No idea. Never did good in geography but it looks like longitude and latitude."

"They're co-ordinates."

"Figured, maybe Gaza stashed something. If it's even his to begin with."

A wicked smile brightens his face. "That's the thing about these books. You need the one to find the other."

I make a dubious, high-pitched sound. "You think they just wrote co-ordinates down that leads to the exact location of the books? And if what you said is true about them being passed down from generation to generation. What are the odds it's even still there?"

"It won't be," he says simply. "But it can lead to where they are now, and who's the second bearer."

***

A week or two passes. Time runs differently out here in open sea, under the dome of perpetual skies. Where a day is equivalent to a drop of water. Endless. But eventually land is on the horizon, a sprawling cityscape with towering skyscrapers. Japan. Orian's yacht docks at the Osaka Hokkō Marina—the Yacht Harbour.

Enjoying the view from the upper deck. The sky ablaze with the fire of the setting sun, the scorched yolk of the sun spilling onto the surface of the sea, blending with an ombre of dark blue and a fiery orange. Sherly soon comes through and informs me that Orian and Torin are leaving. And of course, I have to go with. He's already waiting out front, imparting her with instructions for me to wear a particular outfit.

"There's no way I'm wearing this."

I look back at Sherly, but she's no longer standing in the doorway. Instead, it's Orian. My eyes do a slow crawl of his body, torturing me in his all-black fit. His black shirt unbuttoned halfway, flaunting the silver chain on his chiselled chest. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His fingers adorned with rings, his hair tousled but somehow stylish, wisps of midnight strands caressing his forehead.

"Do you want to repeat that again for me, Sakura?"

I fist my hand into stillness. "If you're looking for eye candy, call one of your hoes so they can wear it."

He breaks into a smile; awe steals a breath. His face illuminated by levity; his teeth iridescent. "What hoes?"

"It was mentioned in passing that you've had other lady friends up here in this yacht." I smile at him poisonously. Irritation taking a bite of my calm. "And here I thought I was special," I say with sheer scorn."