Speaking of shirts, I’m glad he got me that suit. If I’d shown up in my jeans and fake leather jacket, I’m sure they’d have kicked me out the moment they saw me. Everyone downstairs was primly dressed in a suit, including the two women.
We arrive with a ding of the elevator. The door opens, revealing a wide corridor with pastel blue walls and a dark gray carpet. Doors with signs line both sides. We walk to the end of the hall where a glass divider leads to an open area with seating, a massive TV and a bar. It’s empty save for the couch near the floor-to-ceiling window, where an older man is reading on a tablet. Two guards watch him from their posts by the wall, and a third one is standing next to the small table where a tumbler and a half-full glass sit.
I recognize him by his long-ish hair, this time tied in a low ponytail. That’s Aran. He sees us and bends down, whispering something to the sitting man who has to be Chai’s father, Daichi Akiyama.
“Naze okureta?” he says in a thunderous voice that sounds a lot like Chai’s. It’s similar in timbre, but the pitch is a little lower.
Chai squares his shoulders as his father stands up and glares our way. He replies in Japanese, but it’s too fast for me to catch even a single word. His father doesn’t seem to like the answer. He throws a couple more snappy words Chai’s way and goes quiet. Just as I think that maybe this won’t be so bad after all, I meet his intimidating gaze.
“Dare da, kono gaijin?”
Aran’s eyes shift to me as Daichi and I settle into a staring contest, and he leans in, whispering something tothe man. Chai’s father begins nodding, stopping himself halfway as his scowl turns menacing.
“Kwanchai,” he rumbles, punctuating every syllable.
Chai suppresses a shudder, the force of it so great I feel it with my own body. Dipping his head, he puts his hand on my back and presses, forcing me to bow.
“This is Leon Caruso. He’s my new bodyguard,” he says in English, for which I am grateful.
I wince, not daring to look up as I feel the weight of Daichi’s disapproving stare. Oh boy. I’ve never been good at impressing parents.
“You hired agaijin?”
I’m starting to realize that maybe I shouldn’t have rushed into accepting this job. Or at least I should’ve looked into who exactly I was agreeing to work for. But everything kind of happened so fast.
Which should’ve been a red flag. You know, aside from the one where Chai offered you a freaking residency permit if you agreed to work for him.
“He helped me when I ran into the Nebisu Gang a couple weeks ago. If not for him I’d be in a hospital or dead now.”
“And whose fault is that?” Daichi argues, not sounding impressed.
Chai clamps his mouth shut as I’m finally allowed to straighten up. I keep my eyes pinned on the ground or on him, sweat rolling down the side of my head.
“You’ve seen his file. He’s a master of Muay Thai. I can personally vouch for his skills, and besides, Aran wouldn’t have approved him if he wasn’t a good match.”
“I advised Chai against it,” a low tenor says. I recognize it from last night as Aran’s and have to stifle a laugh.The asshole is throwing Chai right under the bus. We’re both goners, I think.
Daichi crosses his big arms. “Clearly, he didn’t listen to you.”
“Yes. Which is why I thoroughly checked Mr. Caruso’s background. While he has no prior experience as a bodyguard, I believe he is a good fit.”
They switch to Japanese. I can tell they are discussing me, and if I had to guess, it has to do with my previous job. The one I had to do because Cindy screwed me over royally.
Their heated conversation carries on for maybe ten minutes. I feel like a chicken on a butchering table the whole time. Part of me wants to bolt and say fuck it, and I almost give in, but the two armed guys near Daichi and the one by the elevator quickly convince me I won’t make it even halfway across the room before one of them shoots me.
“Leon Caruso,” Chai’s father says eventually.
A bolt of panic slides down my spine. I clench my hands into fists. “Yes?”
He angles his chin toward the elevator, approaching with the gait of a man who knows I have nowhere to run. “I want to see if you are as good as my son thinks.”
“Excuse me?”
He stops in front of me and smirks.
I swallow hard, dread flooding my system. I don’t like this. I don’t like it one bit.
I look at Chai for help and find him already watching me, his expression a mix of annoyance, concern and frustration.
