Do me right • Tokyo revengers

Chapter 17

Nervousness engulfs me in the confines of Kakucho's car. The oppressive feeling constricts my entire body. I have no idea where Kakucho is taking me or who I'm about to meet.

Kakucho turns his head to look at me. His gaze shifts from my face to my restless bouncing leg.

"Mia," he says gently, prompting me to turn my head and meet his eyes. As my tormented gaze finds his, I'm a little taken aback by the softness in his heterochromatic eyes.

"He just wants to talk," he reassures me.

I nod slowly but my mind instantly gets flooded with a new multitude of questions.

Who is the 'he' he keeps referring to? And why does he want to meet me?

We arrive in front of a towering skyscraper and step inside together. In the elevator, Kakucho presses the button for the 60th floor. The doors glide open, revealing a reception desk where a smiling secretary sits.

"We have a meeting with Mr. Kurokawa," Kakucho informs her.

Kurokawa? I don't think I've ever heard that name before.

"He's still in a meeting," the secretary tells us with a smile. "But you can go ahead and wait for him in his office," she adds, gesturing towards the office at the end of the hallway.

Kakucho gestures for me to lead the way, and I enter the office indicated by the woman. However, a sense of unease washes over me when I realize Kakucho isn't following inside.

I turn to face him.

"Aren't you coming in?" I ask, fear seeping into my voice.

"He told me he wants to speak with you alone," he responds, causing my throat to tighten. "But I'll be waiting for you in the lobby," he assures me, and I exhale, sensing his intention to put me at ease.

His gaze lingers on me for a moment longer. Despite any resentment he may hold towards me, a glimmer of compassion shines in his eyes.

Tension coils within me as he finally retreats, vanishing into the depths of the elevator. I inch closer to the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows, my eyes fixed on the sprawling district below. The vertigo-inducing height sends a shiver down my spine.

Suddenly, a voice washes over me, slicing through the charged air like a knife.

"You must be Mia," the voice purrs from behind, and my body spins on its heels, startled.

There, in the doorway, stands a man, nonchalantly leaning against the frame. His tanned skin is complemented by his long, white hair and eyelashes. Clad in black dress pants and a crisp white shirt, he exudes an enigmatic and charismatic aura that rivals the aura of only one other person I've met—Rindou.

"I've heard a lot of things about you," he says, burying his hands into his pants pockets and pushing off the doorframe to approach me, each step measured and deliberate.

I release a tense breath, my voice barely above a whisper. "Bad things, I assume."

His eyes hold mine as he stops mere inches away, the vast expanse of glass serving as backdrop next to us.

"Not just bad things," he replies, his words hanging in the charged air.

Time seems to stand still as our gazes lock in an unyielding embrace. Ever so slightly, he tilts his head to the side, his eyes sweeping over my face to capture every detail. My breath catches in my throat as I feel the weight of his scrutiny. Unconsciously, my eyes descend, drawn to the tantalizing curve of his lips. Gradually, they curl, teasingly forming a sly, lopsided smile that sends my heart into a tailspin.