Dirty, Dirty Liars [Mature/Editing]

[28] 二十八

Being next to the oyabun, the center of attention in a room of one hundred people, was enough to make me throw up. People paid their respects to him, some gaining his respect back, some not, others leading into conversations I struggled to follow. I took in every cue I could, trying to discern my place in the homogenous, impeccably dressed crowd, never finding it. I wanted to fade into the background, but he wouldn't let me leave his side. My only comfort was Ryuzo's constant presence watching over me.

"Are you having fun?" Oyabun called my attention back to him.

"Yes, thank you."

He tilted his head with a raise of his brows. A look of disbelief. "Mina, Mina . . . you can always tell me the truth. Do you need food? Drink? Something else?" he finished in a teasing whisper.

"No, nothing. I'm just . . . feeling a little out of place," I admitted.

He protested with a tut. "Nothing matters more to me than my family." His lips curved into a smile, but something about it made my skin crawl. 

Again, he taunted me, making me feel he had accepted my relationship with Ryuzo when I knew he hadn't. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

"There is someone I want you to meet," he said.

He led us to an older gentleman with a distinguished air around him. Wearing a similar three thousand dollar suit and sunglasses inside, I knew he was Yakuza even without his entourage.

The man greeted Ryuzo's father like a peer. They spoke for a moment, giving general pleasantries and asking about each other's family. "Who is this?" the man asked.

Oyabun looked at me to answer. I bowed my head and introduced myself. "Williams Mina desu. Hajimemashite."

"My son's . . ." he explained with a word I didn't know. He tossed a smirk past me. I followed his gaze, finding Ryuzo hovering just a few steps away. "A nurse from America."

The man laughed for an indiscernible reason. "An American," he directed at Ryuzo's father. His voice was deep and raspy, his slow speech easier for me to pick up. "Interesting."

Ryuzo's father said more words I couldn't understand, stroking the back of his finger against my cheek like he would a child. I only caught half of what he said next. "Bold . . . My wife . . . different than I would choose for him, but I like her. Very much."

The man laughed again. "Our children. Always always wanting more than what we give them."

"It is true. Loyalty to the family is all we can ask for and expect."

"Yes, it is." The man looked at me. "I look forward to the future. I believe you two will have very beautiful children," he said with a heavy accent and a smirk. His tone sounded sincere.

Stunned, I didn't know what to say other than, "Th-thank you."

He nodded and addressed Ryuzo's father again. "Shall we talk business?"

"Let's." Oyabun gently removed my hand from his arm. "Behave yourself, son," he tossed suggestively over his shoulder as he left with the other men.

When we were alone, I went to Ryuzo and pulled him close by the nape of his neck, pressing myself against him like a hug — the most appropriate gesture I could manage. His hand settled lightly on my back, but with his chest against mine, I could feel his sigh of relief.

He nuzzled his cheek against mine. "I've been so worried," he whispered.

"I was worried about you." I let him go, inspecting him as if to find an injury I hadn't spotted before. "Are you okay?"