Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 101427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Chapter nine
Curated Devotion
Nyomi
And with that, Sako walked up and pushed the door open.
I followed.
The floors shifted as we entered. From stone, to lacquered wood, to finally a tatami so soft it silenced every step.
The air turned warmer here, laced with faint incense.
The master bedroom was decadent but clean in its design. Walls of floor-to-ceiling glass curved in an arc, offering a panoramic view of the sea and the cliffs.
Night had blanketed the island, but the moon painted it silver along the waves.
Sheer silk curtains billowed at the glass, caught in the breeze of some hidden ventilation system. On the far end, an indoor cherry blossom tree stood in a planter of black stone.
Oh damn. That’s dope.
A massive bed dominated the center. Low to the ground in traditional style but impossibly large, with layers of black sheets and deep red silk coverlets.
To the right, a sitting area framed by curved furniture in lacquered gold and obsidian, like a lounge from some surreal imperial dream.
A low table held a tea set and a decanter of something amber. There were pillows. So many pillows. Some silk. Others brocade. All inviting.
But what made my heart stop was the nightstand. My copy of When the Dragon Swallowed the Moon was on the top with my wrinkled bookmark still tucked in at the last page I’d read.
I faced Sako. “My stuff is already here?”
“Yes. Your friend, Mr. Patterson brought them with him.”
My eyes widened. “Zo is already here too? In this house?”
“Oh no. Mr. Patterson is in the villa with Hiroko and her assistants.” Sako checked his watch. “He requested a masseuse for this evening. I believe that is happening now. His mani/pedi is scheduled next, but I can let him know that you are here when he is done.”
I laughed. “Oh no need. We wouldn’t want to interrupt the king at his duties.”
Sako chuckled. “As you wish.”
I shook my head, trying to picture Zo living like some pampered royal while I had been crawling through the emotional minefield of war, intimacy, and legacy.
Dude, I was worried for you and you are on this island living your best life.
“This is your closet.” Sako turned and walked to a hidden door I hadn’t even noticed.
When it opened, I gasped.
It was less a closet and more a private boutique.
Lights rose slowly, illuminating an aisle flanked by dark wood wardrobes and glass display shelves. On the left: Kenji’s clothes. Sharp suits, custom leather jackets, pressed shirts in black, wine, and gray. Belts. Watches. Silk ties in a rainbow of masculine elegance.
On the right…
My things.
My clothes from Zo’s house. Folded and hung with care. Organized by color and season like someone had studied the exact rhythm of my wardrobe.
My favorite wrap dresses steamed and ready.
Even the tank tops I wore to sleep were pressed.
Damn.
But beyond that. . .there were new items too. Dresses I’d never seen before, each one draped on satin hangers—structured silks, hand-beaded details, labels I’d only ever typed into search bars, never worn. A capsule collection in rich, moody tones: forest, wine, obsidian, storm gray.
Lingerie too—delicate sets in lace and satin, still bearing price tags in currencies I didn’t recognize.
French.
Italian.
Japanese.
A few bras were more architecture than clothing, boned and laced, something from a couture runway.
One shelf held sleepwear in pure silk, folded into careful thirds. Soft knit loungewear in cashmere and merino, each set wrapped in tissue.
Sako stepped in with me. “Please let me know if there is anything that you do not want in here. We rushed with the private stylists to getting as many items on the island.”
“This is. . .” I blinked. “Amazing. I have no complaints at this time.”
“I am happy to hear that.”
I pulled a drawer open and spotted sleep masks, lace-trimmed slips, and seamless underthings in my exact size.
Not close.
Exact.
Then the perfumes. A full shelf of them. Not just popular designer bottles, but rare niche fragrances I’d only bookmarked on wish lists: Kilian, Le Labo, Roja Dove.
Another was a scent I once sampled in Paris and never forgot.
Midnight Seduction. How did they get that? This is. . .too much of a coincidence.
I looked at him. “So. . .some of this stuff is. . .familiar.”
Sako nodded. “My understanding is that a hacker checked your browser history and noted anything dealing with online shopping or wish lists.”
“Oh.”
So. . .they saw my porn history too? Yikes.
I cleared my throat. “They did all of that tonight?”
Sako appeared uncomfortable with the next words. “My. . .understanding is that the hacker was given the assignment after your first date, but I am not sure.”
O-kay. . .
Kenji had a hacker studying me. It wasn’t just one of his men watching me on a camera or digging through my trash. No. Someone had been inside my digital life. My wish lists. My search history. My bookmarks. Someone had sifted through every casual scroll, every impulse-click, every late-night indulgence I never thought anyone would see.