Page 19 of Who Said Mobsters Were Scary?
Uh-oh. I smell trouble. “I wanted some ice-cream.”
“Really? Last time I checked, you still hated strawberry flavor,” he points out, because of course he would know what ice-cream flavors I dislike. “There were two types of strawberry in the bag, plus forest fruit, which is also not something you usually enjoy.”
I clear my throat as we board the elevator. I guess my innocent act didn’t quite work. “Well, I didn’t drag him here tied up, did I? I just swung by his dorm, and he happened to be at the convenience store. We chatted for a bit, and he basically told me to fuck off.”
Aran scoffs, rubbing his forehead. “Itoldyou to stay away until I say it’s okay to approach him.”
I sigh, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth. It’s not like I could’ve stayed away any longer. Leo’s just way too enticing. “Is this where we pretend you don’t know me better than I know myself? Besides, I held out an entire week. You should be proud.”
Aran is the one to sigh this time. “You are such a headache,” he complains as we reach my penthouse. He steps out first and I follow behind, letting him lead the way.
“Why are you here, anyway?” I toss when we are inside. The guys have left the bags of random groceries on my marble breakfast counter and have already left.
Aran walks over to the floor-to-ceiling window, grabbing the remote for the curtains. The mechanism controlling them whirls as they retreat to the sides and reveal a mesmerizing view of nighttime Nagoya. I join him and stare at the patches of blackness visible here and there. There aren’t many because I live in the heart of the city surrounded by skyscrapers, but there is a park diagonally across which offers a change of scenery if I need it.
Sighing in exasperation, Aran takes out a tablet from his slim suitcase and hands it to me. “I finished my background checks on Leon Caruso. A few things came up that I think you should know before you continue with this childish behavior.”
I take the tablet and mock-gasp. “Everyone’s been on my case to get a bodyguard. And now that I’ve found the perfect candidate, you are up my ass trying to convince me to go for someone else.”
Aran groans softly. It’s almost inaudible, but the silence around us makes it possible to catch it. “Just have a look at his file, will you? I’ve made some notes.”
‘Some’ is an understatement. The file is riddled with red highlights the moment I load it. Leo is literally a walking red flag, but then again, that has never stopped me before. He’s had a pretty rough childhood, so that explains half of it, but what is worrying is some of the stuff he’s gotten himself involved in prior to his year abroad here in Japan.
“Can we handle this?” I throw at Aran once I’m done reading.
“If we are careful and he cooperates. I will also need Daichi’s approval.”
I click my tongue. “My father won’t like this at all.”
Cocking an eyebrow at me, Aran crosses his arms. “Has that ever stopped you before? And it’s not like I didn’t warn you not to get involved with the exchange student to begin with.”
Good point.
I hand the tablet back and clap my hands. “It’s decided then. I’ll leave dealing with my father to you.”
“I don’t think it will be that easy this time.” He follows after me as I head for the fridge. There is leftover curry and some katsu chicken.
“You hungry? There’s enough for two people,” I say, already tossing everything in the microwave. “I didn’t think it would be easy. But you can do your magic and butter him up. I’ll speak to him once I’ve convinced Leo to take the job.”
We wait for the ding in silence and sit at the table. Aran sighs again, but doesn’t argue further. This tells meI’ve won, so I dig in, wondering when I’ll get to see Leo again.
Once I’m alone after we are done eating, I slip under the shower and go through my agenda for tomorrow, which includes a visit to a club downtown. My brain is still active by the time I’ve dried up, so I put the historical channel on as I lie in bed. A piece on feudal Japan is broadcasting, and it takes all of ten minutes for me to drift off.
“Nobunaga-sama, we should rest for the night,” I say, dipping my head as our horses line up. My armor clanks from the movement, but the sound is lost on the backdrop of hundreds of hooves thudding on soil.
He throws me a sideways glance, dark eyes narrowed and alert. “There is a clearing with an overlook up ahead. We’ll set up camp there. The high ground should give us an advantage if anyone dares approach while we sleep.”
I nod and give him an affirmation. “I will inform the rest and organize the shifts.”
“Kwanchai-dono,” he halts me when I turn my horse around. “Send word to Kyoto. Let them know we should be arriving before the next full moon.”
An hour later, we’ve put up the tents. The sky has darkened enough so that we’ve lit the torches. The smell of roasted meat and sake mingles with the flower-scented breeze. There are not many warriors around as I make my rounds, most of them already passed out from exhaustion. We lost a third of our forces in the last battle, but we managed to conquer the temple, which gives us a strong foothold in western Japan.
Before I realize it, I’ve made it to the edge of camp where the horses are. Just as I am about to retreat to my tent in the middle, my hackles rise. I freeze in place, narrowing my eyes as I scan my surroundings. The twisting sensation in my stomach grows. The tree line moves closer, branches rustling as darkness engulfs me, but before my brain can process what is happening, movement in my peripheral has me wrapping my fingers around the hilt of my katana.
The attack comes from above. I jerk away, just barely avoiding getting my head chopped off. My attacker grunts, wasting no time charging back at me. My heart pounds fast, pumping adrenaline through my body. My breaths are deafening in my ears as I unsheathe my katana. Our blades clash, the clink causing a flock of birds to scatter from the nearby trees.
My attacker is not armored, his body covered just in leather and cloth. He moves quickly and effortlessly, his striking blue eyes not straying from me as we exchange blows. When he steps in a shaft of moonlight, my jaw goes slack as my gaze takes in the pale expanse of his skin and the lush blond of his long hair—he’s not Japanese. He’s a foreigner.
