1.1 | The Yakuza Bride

Chapter 21

A/N: How's everyone? Welcome to Chapter 21!

~

She couldn't stop thinking about that kiss. That gentle brush on her forehead, the heat of his body close to hers, his fingers in her hair. What had that been for?

Comfort?

Well, he had an odd way of showing it then for he'd yet to reply to her messages. For some reason, they had been distant ever since returning to New York. It seemed they had picked up where they left off, all blurred barriers from St Petersburg and Tokyo disregarded. They were back to being the awkward Leon and Hana who stepped silently around each other in their first week of living together.

But he could at least reply her messages.

As she checked her phone for the umpteenth time, she realised, he hadn't even read them. With a frustrated huff, she tossed her phone aside and gave in to her hunger pangs. She put on a comedy as she ate, but her interest in the antics was halfhearted as she barely even smiled at the scenes that used to make her chuckle.

Why did she care so much anyway? Of course, it meant a waste of food for she had cooked his portion, but her heart ached more than it should have. She wasn't supposed to be so bothered. All along, they had agreed to a divorce, so it didn't matter if they didn't spend dinner time together.

But their house was cold and lonely, and friends didn't behave like that to each other, did they?

She should have went out with her friends after all. Most of them were returning to Japan to prepare for college or to help out in their family's business, and it would be ages before she'd see them again.

~

Loud music blasted overhead filling his ears with the reverberating beats of a bass line. They had cozied themselves into a semi-circular room with a plush couch that meandered the curve of the wall. Dark shadows fell across the planes of his face as he sat back in his seat in the corner, shielded from the bouncing lights of the main floor.

His men sat around him while scantily clad girls danced before them on a raised platform. They gyrated, shook and swung themselves effortlessly from pole to pole, their bodies constantly obscuring his view of the dance floor. Occasionally, a flash of red would catch his eye, and then his gaze would linger on that lithe form.

'Need anything?' one of his men called out.

He shook his head and mulled over his glass of vodka tonic. A dull ache was picking up in his temple and he had near forgotten the purpose of tonight.

'Need one of 'em to cheer you up?' another voice slurred.

He snapped his head up. They never let up did they? In Mickey's lap sat a brunette with her top nearly off and her hands moving about in his pants.

'Get yourself a room,' he grumbled, not even loud enough for himself to hear.

He brought his glass to his lips, but only air and the dregs of his drink met his tongue. With his jaw clenched, he rose to his feet and fought his way through the crowd to the bar.

There she was again, in that shiny red dress, screaming and laughing in the crowd. He leant against the counter, savouring the cold liquid sliding down his throat as he watched. Then she stumbled away from her circle of friends, her legs wobbling with each step in her high heels.

She lurched, with her arms flying out, her glazed eyes unchanged. Leon reached a hand out to grab her by her elbow.

'Steady,' he murmured, pulling her close to him.