Red As Snow...(BWAM, Yakuza Romance, 18+)

Chapter Twenty Two

Tsumibito's P.O.V

I let my eyes fixate upon the empty blackness of the night skies via car window whilst she sits right next to where I remain positioned. The epitome of everything gracious, the embodiment of all that is beauty and loveliness -I'll give her that.

I detest her in a manner, detest how she so easily works her way into my brain, detest how the scent of her remains a permanent imprint in the pits of my memory, detest how she has so effortlessly managed to pique, capture, and hold my attention so firmly in a matter of months.

I discard all thoughts revolving around she, blink severally, take in one large whiff of air. Finally, the glass dome that is the gallery comes into view and the adrenaline begins to leak through my veins, to heighten my pulse. I turn in my seat to face her in muteness, drink in the sight of her as she takes in the magnificence of our surroundings.

She looks nothing like her usual self with her appearance altered in that manner.

"Rosa," I call out, and instantaneously, she cocks her head to look at me.
"You will be walking in in my absence. I will not be accompanying you. However, I should guide you through, aid you in identifying our target."
"What! Tsumibito, I..."
"Trust me, Rosa, yes?"

She says nothing, only arches a single brow and glares poisonously while I reach for the inner pockets of my blazer. I retrieve a tiny velvet box containing a pair of diamond studs, hand it over to the hesitant female. She pops it open and I watch in fascination as her eyes grow wider at the glimmering sight.
"How will we communicate through this again?"

"Those are standard spy transmitters. Both are connected to my earpiece," I begin, showing off the little piece hooked to the skin on the back of my left ear, "the microphone embedded into the transmitters should permit me hear everything you say, even whisper."

I reach out to assist her in putting them on, take notice of how she subtly shudders at the slightest contact of skins. Still, the female works well to conceal emotion, a good thing, a favourable thing.
"Your name this eve is Aliya. Aliya Ophir, daughter of a Nubian tycoon from Africa named Nahum Ophir."

I reach for the space beneath my seat, retrieve a silencer, fill the pistol's magazine with rubber bullets and hand it over to the overly-calm female. She reaches for the hems of her navy-hued flowing gown and lifts it, strapping the gun to her left thigh holster.
"One last thing before you proceed, Rosa."

And I find myself slipping off the GBH ring from my ring finger, taking her palm in mine delicately and slipping it right onto her middle finger.
"Incase you move to slow for him or your reflexes fail you, stub the pointy end of the jewelry into any part of his flesh. Otherwise, do not act with haste unless I instruct, Obal. Clear?"
"Clear."

"And this is our main man," I finalize, taking out a passport-sized photo of the culprit from my inner pockets and handing it over to the lass.
She marks, analyzes, memorizes in humble muteness, returns the photo shortly after.

"Soon as you identify him, work your charm, enchant him as best as you can. I should handle the rest."
She nods her head affirmatively, spares me a single glance as if in deep thought, utters not a single word.
The co-chauffeur swings her door open allowing her to alight.

I observe, earnestly mesmerized by how her body seems to move with such grace, the confidence she exudes without mercy as though the world were at her feet -even though her heart mourns with terror. By her side is the new co-chauffeur I'd hired only days back. She glides past glass doors until the figure of her disappears behind a throng of art spectators. Now, time to set my plan in motion.