Gangster In A Suit. (Book 1)

Chapter 22

Orian POV

My arms wrapped around her in a deadlock. No chance of escaping. But that doesn't stop her from trying. Always fighting. Always resisting. Something I deeply admire...but now it's pissing me off.

On our way back to the yacht, I left Torin behind; the motherfucker left her alone and now he's ghosting me. Despite his shit, I still left him a car and one of my boys to get him back safely. Along the way, Hadassah passes out. I let her go, her head resting on my lap. Hesitantly, I stroke away a few stray locks. Her skin a honeyed mocha-brown and as smooth as a moonstone, sweeping eyelashes long and thick. I watch my finger trace over her features. But those lips. Puffy and blossom soft... leaving me to wonder how they would taste against my own.

When we arrive at the marina, I carry her out bridal style. A squad of my men following me aboard.

"Phone call."

I suppress a groan. "Take her to my room." We make a trade. I take the satellite phone from him and I deposit her in his arms. "Be careful with her."

He nods and walks away with her.

I stare after them, answering, "Orian."

"Boss, you got a tail."

I crack into a small smile. "The feds again?"

"Sangre y Huesos"

My lips thin into a tight line.

"Gaza's not holding back on this one. He's coming out at full force. I don't know what's in that book, but he even deployed his men in Amagasaki. I didn't even know he had ties on this side. But he clarified that he has no beef with you. He just wants what's his. And the girl."

My tongue skims across my teeth, the corner of my lips curling. "The girl is mine, so that means he's going after what belongs to me. And if he tries, I'll go to his base and bathe it in blood."

I end the call. I walk away, tossing the phone to Akio on my out.

I make my way to the suite, fiddling with my signet ring. When I arrive, I creep inside, expecting to see a sleeping form. But instead. Nothing. Making further inroads, I smile at the whispering footsteps behind me, ducking beneath a sluggish strike. I swivel away, watching a stumbling Sakura face me with teary eyes, clouded by incoherency, but clearly overflowing with hatred.

"You should lay down. And rest," I say, trying to sound as kind as I can.

But she glares at me as if I had just threatened her mother. "Or what?" she screams in a slur. "You'll burn me alive, too?"

"No," I say calmly.

"You'll just kill me," she raves on in a drunken fit. "Like you—almost did."

My eyes drop to the floor. A revolting feeling, alien, one I'm unaccustomed to, clings to me. Encroaching on me and eroding my composure. In my lifetime, with all I have done. I have no regrets...only when it comes to her.

"I will never hurt you," I promise.

"But you did!" she screeches, looking like she wants to try and throttle me again. "You have."

I say nothing.

She starts pacing. Feverishly. She tugs at the straps of the dress like it's suddenly too hot in the room. She starts unpeeling her dress...fuck me.

"Sakura, what you doing?" I ask, hurrying to the walk-in wardrobe.

"I'm hot!"

I go to the left side. Her side. Rummaging through the clothes I bought that are specifically tailored to her. I pull out a random satin nightgown. I walk back out, stopping slowly, my eyes transfixed by the empty drawstring dress that has been dumped on the floor.