Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
A lower guard stepped in, bowed once, and spoke fast. He knew he was interrupting something that could get him buried. "My apologies, Dragon. The Tiger has finalized the details for tonight's gathering."
Every head at the table turned.
Reo went still and his gaze sharpened.
I stared at the guard. "Go on."
The guard swallowed. "The Tiger has chosen The Great Gatsby and In the Mood for Love as the party’s aesthetic direction. She has requested all men wear black in their own style. She has opened the evening to any guests that they may want to bring. And she has also added a Best Dressed Competition."
He bowed and left.
I sighed.
Silence came for one full breath.
Then, the ridiculousness began.
Kaoru leaned back in his chair. "Hey, guys. No need to go too crazy with your outfit selection. I’m winning the competition. I do black very well, and I’m bringing my girlfriends."
Yoichi grinned. “I wouldn’t bring them, if I were you.”
Kaoru quirked his brows. “Why not?”
“They may want to go home with me.” Yoichi winked.
Everyone laughed.
"You think a Fang will win at the Claws’ party?" Toma called from the end of the table. “Think again. Everyone in Japan knows that we’re the best dressed.”
I rubbed my temples.
“If you have to say that you’re the best dressed, then you’re probably not.” Rin set his tea down with two fingers. The porcelain made no sound. His other hand brushed the white silk of his sleeve. "By the way, I'll be bringing a guest."
My stomach dropped.
Damn it. Please don’t let it be the hairstylist.
Nyomi still didn't know that Rin had kidnapped Deja. I would have to tell her before the party.
Hiro clicked his lollipop against his teeth once. “I don’t think any Fangs should bring guests. You all should be happy that the Tiger is even letting you all come.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Satoshi eyed him. And to my delight, he had not scratched once during the entire meeting. “The Tiger loves the Fangs. We didn’t have to whine for her food. We got it immediately—”
“What did you say?” Hiro rose from his chair.
The Claws followed.
Reo sighed. “Everyone sit back down. We were having a meeting about strategy.”
Hiro glared at Satoshi and lowered back into his seat. The Claws did the same.
“Sorry, Reo.” Kaede nodded. “We will focus on the task at hand.”
“Thank you.” Reo still didn’t look pleased.
“I do want to add one thing.” Kaede raised one leather-gloved finger. “I look fucking phenomenal in black.”
Reo rolled his eyes.
“I just don’t want anyone getting their hopes up. That’s all.” Kaede shrugged. “Carry on.”
Daisuke said nothing, yet crossed his arms over his chest, telling me that he was already putting his outfit together in his head.
The twins spoke back and forth, finishing each other’s sentences.
"We’ll be wearing—”
“Black suits— "
" —with sharp lines."
"And clean hems."
"No loud stitching."
Then, they nodded in sync.
Hiro pulled the lollipop out of his mouth and leveled it at me across the table. "I still don’t think guests should come."
"My Tiger said guests can come." I set my hands on the table and folded them together. "So, guests can come."
Hiro pursed his lips and offered no further push back.
"We finish this meeting." I stared at all of them. "Then you can burn the rest of the afternoon on your outfits like fucking women heading to a gala."
A ripple of satisfaction moved around the table, and even Reo’s lips curved into a smile.
Fuck. What are you doing to my men, Tora?
An hour later, the meeting ended and I checked on my Tiger, needing her scent in my nose, her warmth surrounding my skin, her body pressed against mine.
Where are you, Tora?
I went to the kitchen.
That place was a war zone of its own—sous chefs shouting, trays being loaded, steam rising from pots the size of oil drums.
I stood in the doorway and scanned the chaos for my Tiger, craving just a few seconds to hold her in my arms and run my fingers through those silky braids.
She wasn’t there.
One of the sous chefs saw me, bowed, and nearly dropped a platter.
Tora, I want to see you.
Pissed, I left before I disrupted her whole operation and searched the rest of the house. I never found her.
Goddamn it.
It was lunchtime when I returned to my office. Men carried boxes into the space.
My mother’s belongings.
They moved carefully, wearing white gloves, and gripping each box with both hands.
To my utter annoyance, Reo had sent his right-hand man, Ali, to oversee the process.
“There we go.” Ali directed the operation with one gloved hand and held a massive donut with the other. “Come on. Make it quick.”
I frowned and went over to my desk.
Ali was 5’9 and built like a wire hanger someone had draped a cheap, gray shirt over. His glasses always sat on the tip of his nose in a way that made him look like a librarian who had accidentally been assigned to the yakuza.