DEJONAE
“Don’t be nervous,” I breathe out and shake my hands at my sides.
Sazuki gives me an amused look. He shifts the gift he brought for my parents to his other hand. “You should take your own advice.”
I glare at him. “My parents are loving, welcoming people. They’re going to accept you.”
“Then why are you sweating?” Sazuki removes his handkerchief from his suit pocket and dots at my face.
“Don’t.” I swat his hand. “You’re going to mess up my makeup.”
“I did not.”
“Yes, you did.” I grab his hand and inspect the handkerchief in the porch’s golden glow. There’s brown foundation smeared across the pristine white cloth. “Look at that.” My hands flutter around my face. “Do I look awful?”
“You look beautiful,” he says, his voice deep and rumbly.
My skin tingles.
For a second, the nerves flee, replaced with a deep and throbbing desire to touch him.
But it skitters away when I remember where we are.
And why we’re here.
I suck in a deep breath and pound my fist against the door.
“Coming!” my mother yells.
I have a mini-heart attack.
“You were not this nervous to meet my mother,” he points out.
“Because you already married a black woman once. Ashanti took the brunt of all this—” I gesture to the door—“for me.”
His lips twitch. “I do not know why I feel slightly insulted.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that my parents haven’t really… I mean they’re not racist or anything, but you’re a lot of… unexpected things.”
“Japanese? Older? A divorcee with a child?”
“All of the above.” I glance behind me at the street. “Is it too late to bolt?”
The door swings open, cutting off my escape plan.
My mother and father stand together in the doorway. Mom is wearing her favorite apron over a flowered dress. Her hair is done up in a swoop and pearl earrings glitter from her ears.
She looks like a million bucks.
Dad is spiffy too in an ironed, button-down shirt, black slacks and his ‘church’ shoes, black loafers that are so shiny I can see my reflection like I’m looking at glass.
I don’t understand why they’re dressed like this.
I don’t understand why they’re smiling like that.
I don’t understand anything.
“Come in. Come in.” Mom gestures with a thin, graceful hand.
I shoot her a what’s going on look when I pass her by. Sazuki is right behind me, towering over me with his broad shoulders and sexily stern face.
He and my parents should switch their expressions. I thought Sazuki would be the nervously grinning one and my parents would be the calm, serious ones.
What is going on?
“Mom, dad.” I clear my throat. “This is my, um,” my heart pounds, “my boyfriend, Mr. Sazuki.”
“You don’t actually call him Mr. Sazuki, do you?” Dad scrunches his nose.
I blink rapidly.
“No, she does not.” Sazuki sticks out a hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“And you.” Dad gives his hand a good shake.
“Mrs. Williams, I can see where Dejonae and Yaya get their beauty.”
My eyes nearly bug. Who is this charming Sazuki? And when did he learn to kiss butt like that?
Mom laughs. “Oh, how sweet.”
“Are you calling me ugly?” Dad smacks his belly and gives Sazuki a hard glare.
“No, sir.” Unruffled, Sazuki motions to him. “I’m saying you’re a very lucky man to have chosen such a beautiful woman as your wife.”
Dad booms out a laugh. “I know, son. I thank God every day.”
Son?
Am I in the Twilight Zone?
Dad and mom usher Sazuki around the table where they’ve prepared a feast. I only gave them a couple hours notice, so I’m surprised by the three different casseroles and glazed chicken that they managed to whip up.
“Did you forget something?” I call to them from the living room.
Mom drags her face out of Sazuki’s personal space long enough to ask, “What, dear?”
“Me?” I wave. “Hello. I’m your biological daughter.”
Dad booms out a laugh. “She got her comedic timing from me.”
Sazuki smiles.
I scrunch my nose and drift over to them. “Yaya couldn’t make it?” I ask, sitting around the table.
“She had a photoshoot.”
My shoulders slump. I’m happy for her, but I wish she could be here.
Sazuki pats my thigh. “We can visit her next week if you would like.”
My heart inflates with excitement. I miss my sister more than I could ever express.
Mom and dad exchange looks.
Dad clears his throat. “So Sazuki, how old are you? What are your goals in life? Where do you see yourself in ten years? And what do you like about my daughter?”
“Dad,” I groan.
“It’s a viable question, baby girl.”
I bury my face in my hands.
Sazuki carefully and methodically answers every question. After working with him for so long, I’ve observed just how much attention he pays to details. Tiny things that most people wouldn’t fret over are important to him. It’s what makes him so successful.
“Your daughter and I are similar in all the ways that count. We both value family. We both have a passion for music and the deaf community. And we both fight for what we believe in, although we do so using different methods.”
I take his hand beneath the table and squeeze.
Dad leans forward. “So the age thing…” He gestures between us. “It isn’t a factor for you?”
“Her age is not a deterrent for me. We teach each other.” He strokes my knuckles with his thumb. “I have changed in many ways since meeting Dejonae. She inspires me to not only be a better man, but a better leader and a better mentor.”
Mom clutches her heart. “That’s so sweet.”
Dad arches an eyebrow, still unconvinced. “Why do you have so much interest in the deaf community?”
“My daughter is deaf.”
Dad freezes.
Mom goes still.
I was hoping this wouldn’t come up yet.
“A daughter?” Mom gasps.
“Yes.”
I hold my breath as silence falls.
Then dad booms out a laugh. “How old is she? When can we meet her? Does she like brownies? My wife can whip up a mean double chocolate brownie.”
Sazuki looks momentarily stunned. Throughout the interrogation, he’s remained unbothered by my parent’s prodding, but for the first time, he seems a little emotional.
He blinks rapidly and stutters, “Yes. Yes, she likes brownies.”
“I remember what it was like for me when I first learned that my baby was deaf. I felt like I’d done something wrong,” mom says. “Like God was punishing me for a mistake I’d made in the past. I didn’t realize that having a child like Yaya would be one of the biggest blessings in my life.”
“Again, what am I? Chopped liver?” I mutter to break the tension.
Mom smiles. Then her eyes switch to Sazuki and linger. “I think the work you’re doing at the foundation is incredibly important. And I also want to say, as one parent to another, that I appreciate,” her voice breaks and dad has to rub her back in encouragement, “how…” mom gathers herself to finish, “… much you’ve had to endure because you refused to let the world count your child out before she’d even begun.” A tear leaks down her cheek and she sops it up with a handkerchief. “I think it’s amazing that you’re making a difference, not only in your daughter’s life but in all the kids like her. And I think someone that kind and caring will certainly treat my daughter well.”
Dad tips his head back as if that’ll reverse the tears.
Sazuki pushes his chair out, stands and bows deeply to my parents.
They both look shocked.
Sazuki stays bowed for five seconds and when he rises, his eyes are a little red. “Thank you for your trust in me. I will not let you down.”
Dad chuckles nervously. “A-alright. Let’s eat.”
Dinner is a loud, boisterous affair. Sazuki talks much more than usual, not that dad gives him a choice. The interrogation continues when dad pulls him to the living room to show off the baby albums.
I help mom in the kitchen.
Sazuki glances at me from the sofa, his eyes softening as if to say do you need me?
I shake my head.
He nods and returns his attention to dad.
“He doesn’t say much.” Mom rinses a dish. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a quiet one in our family.”
“His throat is probably on fire. Tonight is the most I’ve ever heard him talk.”
Mom smiles tenderly. “He’s very attentive to you.”
“Is he?”
“He has these little moments where he’ll do a quick side glance, as if he’s checking that you’re okay and you don’t need anything. When you pushed out your chair to go to the bathroom, he pushed out his chair too to make room for you. They’re tiny things, but they paint a picture.”
“He treats me well.”
She nods and sets the plates in the drainer.
“I… didn’t expect you and dad to be so open.”
“Open?”
“To him.” I face her. “Did Yaya tell you about him beforehand?”
“She did not.”
“Then why aren’t you…”
“What? Throwing a tantrum? Screaming about how he’s too old for you? That you’re too young to be a mother to a child you didn’t create? That his family might not treat you well because of your dark skin?”
“All of that.”
“Of course we’re concerned. Especially about that last part.” She pins her lips together. “But the world is going to rage against you for those differences at every turn. We don’t want to join them.” She finishes with the dishes and sets the dish cloth to dry over the faucet. Her sweet brown eyes stare into mine. “We raised you well enough to make the right choice.”
“Your mother is right.”
I jump when I hear my dad’s voice. He left Sazuki in the living room with the albums and is standing in the kitchen.
My bottom lip trembles when he walks around and gives me a hug. “I’ve lived my life showing you girls how a husband is supposed to treat his wife by the way I treat your mother. I’ve given you all the tools you need to choose someone who’ll treat you the same way. If this is the guy you picked, then I’m going to trust—not in you, but in everything I’ve taught you about what you deserve.”
My eyes get misty. “Dad.”
“Group hug!” Mom yells to Sazuki. “Young man, get over here!”
Sazuki makes a sound of soft confusion.
Mom urges him over. I don’t see him, since I’m wedged against dad’s side, but I smell his minty fragrance and feel his arms wrap around me.
Mom joins our family huddle and we hug for a few seconds.
“Alright,” dad breaks the hug, “let’s get straight into the dessert. While we’re eating, I’ll show you all of Dejonae’s awkward and embarrassing childhood pictures.”
“Dad!” I shriek.
“I would really like to see that, sir,” Sazuki says dryly. The traitor.
“You’re not showing him those albums.” I groan.
“Yes, I am. Do you know how long I’ve waited for this day?” Dad cackles like an evil henchman and dances out of the kitchen while I chase after him.
Sazuki drives me home and walks me up to my apartment.
Our hands are linked.
The silence between us is easy and welcome. We don’t need to say a lot to feel content. That’s something I’ve learned from him. To be calm in the silences.
“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” I say, stopping in front of my front door.
“Your parents are lovely. It was an honor.”
“They like you.”
“And they love you.” His eyes are dark and intense. “Very much. It is clear how close you all are. Your father wants you to move back in.”
“I know.” My smile is wry. “One of the hardest decisions I made was to move out, but I wanted to see the world and have my own independence. I couldn’t do that under their roof. They would have smothered me with love.”
“A painful way to go.”
I laugh. “Your jokes are getting better.”
“Your father’s wit must have rubbed off on me.” His lips arch up at the corners.
I fiddle with my keys, glance down, glance up again.
The silence turns heated.
Tension crackles between us.
“Is Niko waiting for you?” I ask.
“I already kissed her goodnight before leaving.”
“And do you, um, have to go back?” The ridges of the key dig into my finger.
Rather than answer, he lifts his phone and dials a number.
I watch with heated breath as he speaks without taking his eyes off me, “Akira, I will not be home until morning.”
“I figured.” Akira’s voice sounds muffled, but the words are clear.
Sazuki ends the call and arches an eyebrow.
“Until morning?” I raise my chin, fighting not to look as nervous as I feel. “Is it going to take all night?”
“I have waited a long time for you, kitten. I do not plan to rush.”
My heart swells with longing and hot anticipation. I barely manage to open the door before Sazuki drags me inside as if he owns the place and pushes me against the wall. His eyes drill into me, filled with an untameable heat.
I feel the burn sweep up my skin like I’m standing in the middle of a giant oven.
“Aren’t you,” I swallow, “going to close the door?”
Still watching me, he calmly kicks the door shut.
I try to breathe. My throat is clogged.
I feel undone. Turned inside out.
And he hasn’t even touched me yet.
But that gaze…
It’s always been intense.
Always been searing.
But tonight, I feel it dig under my skin, singeing me, warning me that I will never be the same after he’s done with me.
Sazuki’s arms slide around my waist, dragging me into him. The motion is smooth, but I still gasp when we collide.
He puts a hand to my chin and tilts my head back. With excruciating tenderness, he plants a kiss on my upturned face. The heat of his lips on my forehead makes me suck in a breath. I hold that breath as he kisses my cheeks.
And then finally, his mouth falls on mine.
I release my breath, my nerves, my sanity.
I kiss him back, unleashing the need deep inside me.
I want to trust you.
Sazuki savors my mouth, kissing me with such gentleness that my heart stops beating.
A quiet, simmering heat bubbles to the surface. It takes over every part of me, whipping into a blaze that begs to be set free.
I clutch at his fancy button-up shirt, my fingers trembling, my knees melting, my body tightening as his kiss deepens.
The concentration required to get him out of his shirt is stripped away from me when he pushes me harder against the wall, effectively flattening me against him.
The feel of his desire makes my head spin, but his kiss shows no sense of time or urgency. It goes on forever, attacking my mouth with the vigor of a boa constrictor taking its time to coil around its prey. Only… this mouse enjoys falling into the spell.
“Sazuki,” I moan.
He snarls in a way that conveys exactly what he wants from me, patience.
But I have none.
I slide my hands around him. Untucking his shirt from his pants, I delight in the freedom to roam his back muscles. His body is lean and warm. Smooth skin beneath my palm.
He makes a deep sound in the back of his throat and I’m almost swept away in a wave of passion.
The kiss gets harder. Each insistent stroke ignites my senses, ripping apart every last ounce of restraint I have. I’m practically burning with desire. It’s too hot. Too violent. How did we manage to deny it for so long?
My hands roam lower, fishing at his belt.
He grunts and thrusts against me. My hands are immediately captured and pinned over my head in a quick but gentle maneuver. His fingers trace a symbol over the undersides of my wrists as his mouth brands me with more torturously languid kisses.
I should have known Sazuki would drag it out.
He always has to be in control. Always has to do things his way. Always has to make it count.
“Relax,” he whispers.
“Let’s move this along,” I whisper back.
He drops his chin to my ear and nuzzles the lobe. “The more you fight, kitten, the more you will beg.”
His words send a thrill through me.
Sazuki seems to revel in my impatience. His kiss drips like honey to my neck, sweet and sticky and addictive.
I shudder in helplessness drowned by flaming need.
It’s so intense that it rockets me to a new level of desperation. One I never knew existed.
But I never run from a challenge.
Since my upper half is currently pinned against the wall, I lift one leg and wrap it around Sazuki’s waist. His obsessive sipping of my pulse stops abruptly when I rub against him.
“I don’t think you want to play that game with me,” he growls.
“I’ve never played a game I can’t win.” I meet his eyes.
When he descends again, it’s like a tsunami slamming against the coast. He attacks my mouth until it throbs in submission, licking, nipping, bruising—a chaotic blend of wicked delight.
His tongue takes command and wipes every thought clean from my mind, so I don’t even realize that I’m airborne. When I come back to myself, Sazuki’s arms are around my waist, lifting me so my legs dangle off the floor.
I press against his hard chest, noting the dark glint in his liquid black eyes. If I saw smoke escaping from his gaze, I would believe it. His smolder is hot enough to melt my clothes straight off.
“Bedroom,” he rumbles, his heart drumming against mine.
My fingers tremble when I point.
Sazuki’s crackling gaze and savage half-smirk is a gunshot warning. Some dark, dangerous part of me comes alive in response.
He sweeps me into the bedroom that’s way too small for a man as big and charismatic as him. He doesn’t bother turning on the lights and makes his way to my bed in three confident steps.
Shoot. I didn’t clean my bedroom this morning. Clothes are still on the bed from where I dragged them out of my closet as I bemoaned what to wear to my parents tonight. The dresser is filled with all the natural hair products I emptied to get my hair moisturized and curly.
I feel Sazuki’s weight against me and his fingers under my chin. “Come back to me, kitten.”
My entire body tingles at the pet name.
I have no idea where it came from. He’s never called me that before.
Anyone else, and I wouldn’t let them. But the way Sazuki’s deep voice rasps out the word makes it sound exciting and sexy.
For a moment, we stare at each other.
Not a sound breaks the silence.
It’s just me and him.
And the pulsing desire that’s mounting over my back and pawing at my stomach.
His mouth descends on mine.
Slowly. Torturously. A punishment.
He kisses every thought out of my mind until nothing else matters.
Soon, his mouth rips away, leaving me reeling with want, and slides across my neck and shoulders. I grip him, wondering why his shoulders are rippling. It’s not until he throws a handful of clothes off the bed that I realize he’s cleaning up.
I stiffen.
His hands cup my hips. “You are overthinking.”
“If I’d known it would be tonight, I would have cleaned up and bought candles or something.”
“Next time, you bring the candles. I will bring the roses.”
My lips arch up.
His hands slide down my body with a possessive heat. “Do you know how badly I have wanted you?”
Molten desire surges through me, molding me to his hands, to the friction of his palm through my jeans.
I want his touch on my skin so badly. But I don’t have to express it. Sazuki unbuttons my pants with his long, slender hands. He drags it off in three jerks, stopping to kiss every inch of skin that it exposes.
My teeth bite down in a tortured hiss. He succeeds in undressing me and yet the kisses don’t stop. Never ending, his lips coat every inch of me, determinedly marking all my pleasure points as if he came with one intention and one intention only—to learn my body in explicit detail.
I’m quivering, panting, spinning out of control by the time he’s conquered every inch there is to conquer.
The lights that blind my eyes are far too violent.
I shake with it.
So does he.
He’s so beautiful, muscles tensing and eyes wild and hot.
Screw it. I don’t mind losing this game.
As long as he puts me out of my misery.
As long as I get to feel every inch of him too.
“Please,” I beg.
There’s a darkness in his eyes.
Sweat on his forehead.
The strain of holding on to his restraint is bulging to the surface. He’s about to snap. About to give out completely.
I lift my fingers to his lips, grazing their wetness, teasing his stubble. He kisses the tips of my fingers, breathing out my name like a prayer.
My pulse quickens. “Why are you hesitating?”
He looks at me with eyes that are more beast than man, darker than the blackest night and wilder than a mystical creature set free to wreak havoc.
“I do not wish to hurt you, but I do not think I can be gentle,” he growls.
My body jolts with a desire so sharp I wonder if I’m bleeding into the sheets.
Ryotaro Sazuki—perpetually unruffled, unbothered, and unfeeling—crippling beneath his need for me makes me feel like I’m unraveling in a vast and endless universe of stars.
“I won’t break,” I whisper. “I can take it.”
His eyes pierce mine, glimmering with a fire that could wipe out an entire city.
“Then hold on.”
It is his final warning before he sinks into me and shows me what it means to be ravaged.
It is morning when we collapse into bed for the last time, not to dive into each other, but to settle into a tangle of legs and sheets and fall asleep.
A faint chirping sound pierces my dreams.
I try to ignore it, but my thoughts are already churning.
Someone is beside me.
I feel his warmth. The heaviness of his breath on my forehead. The scrape of his stubble on my flesh.
Sazuki.
Images of last night zip through my subconscious mind. My fingers digging into the sheets. Sazuki grunting in Japanese, words I didn’t understand delivered in a tone that I had no choice but to obey. Pain and pleasure colliding in a fit of sweet insanity.
No matter what I imagined being with Sazuki would be like—and there were many nights when I dreamed of it—what happened last night blew my fantasies out of the water.
Is he made of some kind of magic?
I saw so many stars it’s a miracle I’m not a blind mess.
The chirping sound peals again, shaking me from that place in-between sleep and consciousness.
I glance up and observe Sazuki lying next to me. Pale skin stretched over lean, toned muscles. Broad shoulders bruised from my lips. Long legs covered only in a pair of boxers. His hair is hanging over his eyes, making him look boyish. But I dare not assume that innocence is real. He is all man. A surreal bundle of pleasure wrapped in the face of an Asian prince.
My phone chirps again. I reach for it.
Sazuki curls me into his body to keep me from rolling away. He captures my hand and pins it against his chest.
I wiggle against him, but that only brings me closer. And now my hair is all in my face. Thanks to his grabby hands, my curls are a rocking, steaming mess. Sweat slicks the sheets and makes cuddling hot and uncomfortable.
Even in his sleep, he won’t let me go.
“Sazuki,” I whisper.
“Mm.” He tucks his chin against my head, fitting me into him like a puzzle piece.
“My phone.”
“Not yet,” he rumbles.
I smile at his hoarse voice. He was very… vocal last night and it’s no surprise that he hasn’t yet recovered.
My body turns languid again.
“Sazuki.”
His eyes remain closed.
“I need to use the bathroom.”
He releases me a smidge. I wiggle from under his arms, grab the button-down shirt that somehow landed on the dresser and put it on.
The shirt smells like him. I take a deep whiff, loving the fragrance. It feels like I’m getting a big hug from him.
After using the bathroom, I tiptoe back into the bedroom and watch the sun dance over Sazuki’s back.
No, not Sazuki.
Ryotaro.
I grin secretly to myself.
I wonder how he’ll react when he hears me using his first name. I’m used to calling him Sazuki, but after last night, it doesn’t really make sense to keep being distant when we were, quite literally, the closest we have ever been.
Leaning against the dresser with one leg raised and resting on the bottom drawer, I check my phone.
My heart stops when I see the text messages.
Hi, Dejonae. This is Ashanti.
Can I see you downstairs?
I read and reread the message.
She’s downstairs?
At my apartment?
Another message comes in.
I’ll come up if you prefer.
My eyes jump to the bed where Sazuki is still sleeping. The air smells like every wicked thing he did to me last night. The sheets bear the evidence of our frantic desire for one another.
I don’t want Ashanti anywhere near this. Just the memory of her, conjured up in these text messages, makes me feel dirty. Like I took something that doesn’t belong to me.
I shake my head.
Be strong, Dejonae.
I text her back and let her know that I’ll be down. Rather than brush my teeth and fix myself up, I head outside wearing Ryotaro’s shirt.
Ashanti is in the foyer. She turns with a sweep of her long black hair and fancy pumps. Her dress is full of polka dots and shimmers down to the floor.
She really is beautiful.
Which makes me feel petty, like I should hate her more because she’s so attractive.
Her eyes slide down my attire. “I thought I saw Sazuki’s car in the parking lot.”
“How do you know where I live? In fact, how did you get my number?”
“Akira. That’s the answer to both those questions.” She smiles.
“What do you want?” I fold my arms over my chest and keep my tone chilly.
“I saw a café nearby, but I don’t think you’re dressed appropriately for that. Did you just get out of bed?”
Her tone rubs me the wrong way. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“Dejonae,” her grin is sharp even if it’s pretty, “put your weapon down. You and I have many things in common. We both enjoy music, we both love Niko and we both fell for the same man.”
“It’s not like we’re signing up to be the next sister-wives, Ashanti. You and I don’t need to have anything in common and you don’t need to be here either. Please leave.”
“He has great stamina, doesn’t he?”
My entire body stops cold. I turn slowly around.
“Kimochi ii.” She points a soft smile at the window as if she’s imagining something. Her eyes hold a distant wistfulness.
A slap to the face would have been less shocking. I suck in a sharp breath, grasping at thin air as my hands curl into fists.
“Do you know what it means?” Her heels click against the tile in a steady rhythm. Lowering her voice to an intimate hush, she mimics Sazuki’s breathless panting. “It… feels… so… good.”
My eyelashes flutter. I’m shaking with rage, with embarrassment, and with hurt. It’s like she walked into my most sacred memory and tarnished it.
“If you’d like more translations, I can help with that.” She rubs her chin. “Ryo doesn’t talk a lot, but he gets strangely mouthy during—”
“What do you want?”
The smile finally leaves her face to reveal the true cruelty beneath. She tilts her head. “I came to inform you that I will always be right there, in every memory, at every event, and in every sacred moment between you and Ryotaro. I’m not going anywhere.”
A sharp, fiery arrow plunges into my heart. I let it coat my words in venom. “You’re sick.”
She laughs.
“Does your husband know how obsessed you are with your ex?”
Ashanti gives me an oh, aren’t you cute look.
“Didn’t Sazuki tell you? I got a divorce.”
Her words rock my entire world. “A divorce?”
“You know,” she moves in closer, “at first I was going to play up the evil ex-wife role. Really throw all the ways you and Sazuki don’t work in your face, but I think you already know that, deep down, you’re nothing but a nice little detour for him. Every man wants a younger woman to bring a bit of excitement to his life. But it doesn’t mean anything more than that. One day, he’s going to tire of you as all men do of their toys.”
“You drove all the way here thinking you’d accomplished something, didn’t you? But in the end, you look petty, foolish and desperate.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Thank you for your advice, but I should go. My boyfriend is in bed probably wondering where I am.”
Her eyes twitch, but she hides it well. “Oh, this isn’t advice. This is a warning.” She leans forward. “I’m coming back for my family.”
“What makes you think you can take them from me?” I grind out.
“I’m not going to take them.” She flutters her eyelashes. “You’re going to give them to me.”
She’s insane.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you love Niko. That much I saw from the night you played piano together. You love my little girl like you pushed her out the womb yourself.” Her laughter is tight. “And what Niko needs isn’t for her parents to be fighting, cold and distant from each other. She doesn’t need a tiny, inconsequential college student mucking up the family tree. She needs her mommy and daddy together because that will give her the future, the life, that she deserves.”
My heart slams against my ribs.
“I trust you’ll make the right decision, Miss Williams.” Ashanti plucks a pair of sunshades out of her purse and slides them over her face. “Oh, remember. My offer for those translations is still valid.”
