Globetrotter Ingrid gets a fabulous fresh start when her job takes her to Melbourne, Australia. Here she meets wise and sweet Oliver, who makes her forget she doesn't have a heart.
This successful stability prompts Ingrid to accept an invitation to...
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December 2018
"So, did I do well?" Ingrid turned away from the moonlit stone lantern as Hitoshi walked into her room, his face cleaned up, but his shirt bloodied. "Arranged marriage avoided?"
He stopped in his tracks.
"I can read a room," she clarified.
"You mean Ayame didn't tattle?"
"Not a single pip. And, well, it's not like I asked."
"You didn't?"
Ingrid shrugged. "Not my business."
Hitoshi joined her in admiring the snow-clad corner of the garden. "Pretty, though, wasn't she?"
"Schoolgirl-pretty."
"Yeah, well..." He heaved a deep sigh. "She's only twenty years old."
"And how old are you?"
He hesitated. "Thirty-five. Thirty-six, next week."
"Oh, happy early birthday."
"Thanks."
Ingrid studied his reflection in the glass doors looking out to the garden. Barefoot, with his filthy shirt half-unbuttoned, but his hands still in his pockets, he resembled a homeless man more than a yakuza criminal.
"So... what happens now?"
He scoffed. "They're gonna try my younger brother next, which, honestly, they should've done from the beginning, but her dad will be too offended to accept sloppy seconds, so the terms – "
"No..." She chuckled, interrupting him. "No, I meant, what happens to you? And me, by extension."
"Oh." He blinked and inspected his bruised cheek in the glass. "Guess I won't be pretty for a while. But you're not here because you like my face, are you?"
Ingrid laughed. "Go to bed, Hitoshi. The later you stay up, the worse you'll feel in the morning."
He threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. His forehead fell on hers, their noses touching. His lips sought to kiss her, but she didn't meet them.
Groaning, he pushed her harder into him. "I need to be inside you before I can sleep."
"Easy, tiger." She drew her head back to look him in the face. His tousled hair fell in his eyes, lending a dangerous edge to his glare. "I'm not sure I want you to."
His thick brows furrowed into perilous displeasure. "You don't want me? Why?"
Ingrid downplayed her unease and summoned her inner saleswoman to put up a damsel front. "Hitoshi, you're angry..." Slowly, carefully, she aimed to disentangle herself from him. "I'm... damaged goods. And as a matter of fact, so are you, right now. Angry sex is not something I want to risk at the moment."
