Gangster In A Suit. (Book 1)

Chapter 28

Enjoying an on-the-floor meal with an array of organic choices. I particularly like the fish of some sort put on skewers, grilled with soy sauce.

"This is delicious."

"Glad you like," she says with a toothy grin. "It's unagi, fresh from the river."

"Hmm, is that a type of fish?"

"You could say that," Orian says, "It's grilled eel."

I freeze. Chewed pieces marinating in saliva, my stomach churning. I look at the half empty side of my plate. I've eaten so many of them already. Orian releases a humoured breath through his nostrils, bringing his fist to his mouth.

"Something wrong?"

I look back at her, stretching a smile. I shake my head stiffly. I force myself to swallow. "No." My voice reaching a new pitch.

"You stay here tonight," she orders.

Orian's brows furrow. "No, we can't. We're on a schedule."

She points to the open window. "It's late. Stay for one night, eh? Leave in morning."

She gathers the plates, not giving us a chance to deny her again. Courteously, I help her out, transporting the dishes to the kitchen. Orian comes in and relives her, taking her place as he starts washing the dishes in the sink. Keeping his wrapped hand above the water.

I must be dreaming.

"Where are the tabloids when you need them? Breaking news, this just in Orian Moon was found doing dishes like a regular person."

He glances at me askew. "These hands have tended fields and herded cattle. It's always the wealthiest ones with the most humbling backgrounds. I knew what it's like to have nothing. And I know what it's like to have everything."

I take a wash cloth, drying the dishes. "And?"

He deliberates for a moment. "It will never be enough. Just like filling a cup that has no end."

"The three sides of Orian moon," I say reflectively. "Orian. Kenjie. And Ichiro. A man of many masks."

"I don't hide—" he accidentally flicks up the plate too fast, spurting water all over me.

Squeaking in shock, my hands fly up to my shoulders. I glare back at him. "Seriously?"

"Mistake."

"Mistake?" I repeat with raised eyebrows. I dunk my hand in the water, letting it pool in my palm before I launch it at him. "That was a mistake."

Water strings down those carved cheekbones. He stares back at me stonily. "You have the impulse control of a child."

It doesn't help that I make childish face at him. "And you have the temper of a wild animal."

His face deadpans, he calmly turns his attention back to washing.

And in one quick motion, he pours an entire plastic jug of water over my head, utterly drenching my clothes and hair in a second. Screaming, I splash water at him from the sink frenziedly. He counters with a fresh deluge, flooding the floor, catching glimpses of his ripped stomach through his top. Seconds later, obaasan wobbles inside. She stares at her wet floor, wide eyed, and unleashes a raging rant. Orian tries placating her in a remorseful tone. She shoos us both out like we're stray cats.

Snorting laughs on my way out, my hand pasted over my mouth.

She follows us out, raving on relentlessly.