AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She didn’t quite manage that. But she did leave Japan pregnant for the second time, this time with twins: Kenzo’s brother Takeshi, and his sister, Hana.
There’s one more Mori kid in the mix: Mal Ulstäd. Technically, he’s Kenzo, Hana, and Takeshi’s cousin, since his mother was Astrid’s sister, but he grew up with the Mori siblings as virtually a brother to them all. Now he’s one of Kenzo’s top advisors in the Mori-kai.
He’s someone I plan on avoiding entirely tonight.
We’ve never met. He has no idea who I am.
But I know who he is. More specifically, I know who his familywas.
…And what mine did to them.
I shiver, exhaling the dark, broken memories of a life I left a long time ago. When I slowly inhale again, filling my lungs with crisp fall New York air, it’s as the girl I am now: Freya Holm.
And I’ll never look back on the darkness I came from.
I frown as another scent invades my nostrils. I turn and glare at Annika when I see her puffing on her stupid e-cigarette.
“You look ridiculous sucking on that thing, you know.”
Annika takes another long drag of it, smirking around the vape as she holds up her middle finger.
“Hi, yeah,slightlystressed right now. Think I could indulge in my go-to stress reliever in peace?”
“Hi, yeah, don’t want my best friend to die from cancer, thanks.”
Annika groans, rolling her eyes and taking one more puff before she slips the vape back in her clutch.
“I’m quitting, okay?”
I sigh as I pull her in for a hug. “Look, we have to go in there. So let’s just rip the Band-Aid off and do it. Then we can figure out how to get you reconstructive facial surgery and smuggle you into Tunisia.”
“Fine,” Annika grumbles. She nods her chin past me to Sota’s brownstone and the guests pulling up out front before making their way through the small crowd of both Yakuza and Bratva security. “You go ahead. I’m going to…get some air.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, cancer air.”
“Eat me.”
I giggle as I turn and leave Annika to her gross habit. At the front door, three Yakuza guys are waving wands over guests, like we’re going through airport security. One of them, a taller Japanese guy with a goatee and Yakuza ink snaking up his neck, frowns when he sees me, stepping in front of me and shaking his head.
“No,” he growls.
I arch a pierced brow. “Excuse me?”
“Sota-san has a strict dress code for this evening,” he mutters, his reproachful gaze sweeping back over me. “You donot?—”
“She’s fine.”
The sound of the voice behind me is proof that itis, in fact, possible to be simultaneously relieved and annoyed by someone’s presence.
I exhale slowly, pasting a smile on my face as I turn toward Dimitri, one of Kir’s enforcers.
Dimitri has asked me out no less than ten times over the past two years, and still doesn’t comprehend “no” as my answer.
He’s not a bad guy. But number one, I wouldnevermix my personal life with my professional one, and we both work for Kir’s organization. And number two…ah, fuck it.
There doesn’t have to be a number two. I just don’t want to go out with the guy, and it would befantasticif he got that memo.
When I turn to him, he sends me what I’m sure he thinks is his most charming smile. Maybe itishis most charming smile. But…how do I put this…Dimitri’s been punched in the face a lot. And it shows.
