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And of course, sake.
So much sake.
Sota and Kir talk a little business before Kenzo steers the conversation around to Kyoto in general.
Kir clears his throat, glancing my way. “Freya, before I forget, I was hoping you could access my home system remotely at somepoint and poke around for any security holes.” His brow furrows. “I’m not certain, but I think someone’s trying to hack into it.”
Damian snickers. “Been clicking those sketchy pop-up ads, uncle? Looking for hot horny MILFs in your area again?”
Kir shoots him a withering look as Annika and I hide giggles and grins.
“No, wise-ass,” he grunts. “But there’s a lot of sensitive business stuff on my home network, so I want to make doubly sure it’s secure.”
I shrug. “I mean, not to brag, butIbuilt it. They’d have to bereallygood to get in. But yeah,” I smile at him. “I’ll take a look?—”
I shiver when I feel Mal’s hand slip under the tablecloth to rest on my thigh—silently reminding me of the power dynamic between us that never seems to shift.
Damian, across the table, watches us coolly, his expression unreadable, but I sense anger simmering beneath the surface.
Mal’s grip tightens on my leg, his thumb brushing over the fabric of my jeans in a slow, deliberate motion. His touch sends a distracting ripple of heat through me, making it hard to focus on the conversation around us. I’m sure that’s exactly what he wants—to remind me, maybe everyone else in the room, that I’m his.
Marking his territory. Claiming me.
And the crazy thing is, part of me likes it.
Abigpart.
I know I shouldn’t. I know his possessiveness should feel suffocating. But there’s something about the way Mal exertshis dominance over the situation, the way he’s so unapologetic about it, that makes my heart race in a way I can’t control.
“So, Damian, tell me,” Mal says coldly. “Have you hired any more sexual predators to fill the vacancy in your ranks back in New York?”
I groan. He means Dimitri. No, scratch that. He meansto stir shit upand make this whole dinner go nuclear.
Damian’s mouth twists as he smiles right back at Mal. “You’ll find, Mal, that I don’t take bait that easily. If you’re curious, I slit the neck of the piece of shit you’re referring to personally and made sure he was still breathing when I stuffed his balls down his throat.”
“Dinner conversation, Damian,” Kir mutters under his breath, his tone exasperated as he shoots his nephew a dark look.
Damian dips his chin. “Apologies, uncle,” he says politely before locking eyes with Mal again. “However, judging from the bruises on my sister’s fucking neck,” he grits, “I think the sexual predator I’m more concerned about is sitting across the table from?—”
“She’s not your sister,” Mal says icily.
“And she’scertainlynot your fucking punching bag?—”
“No, she’s not, but you’re about to be.”
Mal’s hand leaves my thigh as he calmly gets to his feet. Damian does the same, with Takeshi and Isaak following right after.
“I think…”
Sota’s voice isn’t loud. But when he speaks, the room goes quiet.
“That we have concluded this conversation,” he murmurs, shooting Mal a look. “Please,sit, Mal.”
Mal’s stormy, ice-blue eyes dart across the table, boring holes in Damian. But then, with a nod to Sota, he takes his seat. Takeshi follows, then Damian and Isaak. I shoot them both a “what the fuck” look. Issak looks his usual impassive, silent self. but maybe alittlesheepish. Damian just glares back at me before turning to slice Mal in two with his gaze.
Mal’s hand slips back to my thigh and squeezes.
Hard.
