Page 33 of Pragma
“Did you know that the tradition of sword making represents a pinnacle of Japanese craftsmanship? The sword is much more than a weapon;it is a profound symbol of authority, honor, and divinity, deeply connected to the spirit of the fighter. This one—” he lifts the long blade in the air, it sparkles under white lights. “—it was my father’s, and it was given to me at adulthood to instill a sense of responsibility as a protector of my family and lineage and as a constant reminder of my high social position. Hold his arms up and his feet down.” Aki orders. The extra man crouches down and pulls the rat’s hands over his head while Masa grabs his ankles.
His body keeps shivering uncontrollably as the sharp tip of the blade starts a bloody trail from his neck to the edge of his boxer briefs. The wound is not deep; Aki is just warming up.
“Stop crying, it is unsightly. I barely touched you.” Aki sniffs with annoyance at the guy’s persistent sobs.
“He has a parrot’s squawk for a crying voice,” Masa feels the need to say.
“I’d like to know howyourwhimpers would sound,” Soma deadpans.
My one-track mind puts a sexual spin on his words, and I have visions of Aki begging me to make him come again.
The blade suddenly comes down, slicing off my dirty memories together with the guy’s nipple. A scream rips out of him.
“If you don’t tell me the name of the buyer, after finishing with you, I’ll turn your girlfriend into sashimi before feeding her to your wife’s cats.” Aki’s threats are always real, based on past experiences.
The guy remains silent, eyes closed, rushed breaths.
“All right, then I’ll take two eyes for an eye. River hold his head still?—”
“A man…working for Shanghai Group,” he screams. “One of the companies owned by the Triad. “He didn’t tell me his name. He-he approached me, promising five hundred thousand dollars for that file.”
“Really?” Aki doesn’t seem to believe him. Slash! The guy’s right ear is next to go. I don’t muffle his cry this time and let it reach the sky.
“How did he contact you?” I ask, and have to kick his side before he gives me an answer.
“A man came to me during my lunch break. He gave me a hundred thousand dollars in-in advance and told me what to do.”
“Describe him.” Aki spears his left leg with the blade. He’s never been the patient type.
“Ahhhh! Asian, young. He had a big mole on his cheek.”
“A hairy one? On the right cheek?”
The guy nods frantically as I meet Aki’s eyes. Ling Wang.
Aki yanks the katana out of the guy’s leg and hands it to me before giving the order to Soma and Masa. “Don’t leave even a finger behind. No pieces floating down the Hudson River.”
Masa answers the guy’s uncontrollable sobs with a heel to his temple to silence him. We are the mafia, we don’t forgive people who try to fuck with us.
Soma helps Aki put on his green coat while I pour some water on the blade before sheathing it again.
“Time to go,” I let out the words through gritted teeth.
Aki’s mindset turns from commanding and vicious to impish. “Right. I need to meet the next clown.”
He means the marriage candidate. I grind my teeth so much, I think I feel one cracking as I head toward the golf range exit.
Fifteen minutes, and Aki is still in the Flatiron Room Murray Hill, a restaurant in the East Side known for live music and fine dining. He ordered me to stay a few feet back this time, near one of the dark columns where I can see him sitting on the brown leather sofa, but not hear what he’s saying.
A man in his fifties is sitting next to him—his nearness makes my fist clench. His name is Kobayashi Ito—I guess same-sex marriage is fine with thekumichoif she can gain something—the owner of a chain of luxurious restaurants and clubs all over the US, which are a front for prostitution and money laundering. He’s having some problems with the law lately, that’s why he’s interested in making a deal with us to get extra protection.
Aki accepted a drink and now is listening to the…magnate. What the fuck is this? He grumbled all his aversion to the meeting on the way here inside the limo, but now he’s sitting calmly, sipping his cocktail. Did he change his mind?
And why did he order a limo to get here today?
When I heard the words “marriage of convenience” fromKumicho’s mouth three days ago, I felt overtaken by a sense of deep fear. I’m unsure whether it stemmed from jealousy or helplessness. I didn’t think these long-held feelings toward Aki would have rusted this much inside me. But they did, and they are the reason why I couldn’t resist Aki’s advances in that fittingroom. And fuck, didn’t I try. I ordered him to call me sir for fuck’s sake, confident it would have elicited a punch in the face.
Instead, he went along with it, and fuck, he was the perfect mix of submissive and feisty. So damn hot and slutty. The sensation of his smooth skin under my fingertips is still vivid in my mind. His erotic body would have taken anything—and man, I wanted to give it to him good and hard. Instead, I left the fitting room without looking at him, because if I had seen him all disheveled and messed up…by me, I’d have felt the need to claim him. Reining in my desire was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It still is.
