Chapter 1
PART ONE
Joji Yamada didn’t consider himself a fool.
Hell, most people would call him a conniving and calculating bastard.
A compliment he would always hold dear.
And yet, here he was, making foolish fucking choices.
The biggest foolish choice he had made was having a fucking conscience. Sure, he could look past the fact that he had spared some random woman and her child. But why he hadn’t simply abandoned them in some random non-English-speaking country was a question even he couldn’t answer.
It wasn’t like he was in the business of trafficking. In fact, his disdain for trafficking was one of the many reasons his “mother” didn’t want him as the head of the Yamada family.
Sighing, Joji ran his hands over his face before his eyes drifted toward the small child sitting on the couch.
Was he three…four?
It was hard to tell when all the kid did was play with his hearing aid and watch videos on the phone Joji had given him.
The boy’s mother lay unconscious on the bed.
Joji had laid her on her stomach because of the harsh cuts across her back.
She looked elegant, even with the scars.
Her thick head of dark and light brown dreadlocks fell over her shoulder, highlighting her high cheekbones and glowing dark-brown skin.
Leaning back in his chair, Joji ran a hand through his hair.
Fuck.
Her cute little face made it hard to think.
Probably why he had brought her and her son with him in the first place.
A sharp knock broke through the silence of the room.
Getting to his feet, Joji walked over to the door.
His cousin stood on the other side.
Seiji was a slender man with deeply stained yellow teeth and bright brown eyes.
Stepping into the hallway, Joji noticed Seiji trying to get a look inside the room.
Feeling an odd tug in his gut, Joji quickly closed the door behind him.
His eyes narrowed on his younger cousin.
Noticing his reaction, Seiji smiled at Joji before taking a deep puff from his cigarette.
“No need to look so mean, dear cousin. I’m just here to make sure everything is to your liking.”
Putting one hand in his pocket, Seiji lightly tapped Joji’s shoulder with his free hand.
“Beautiful girl you got there. Is she for sale?”
His cousin’s words didn’t shock Joji.
He had lived most of his life around men like Seiji—men who believed women were objects to be bought, sold, and used for pleasure.
But that didn’t stop Joji’s body from tightening.
Knocking Seiji’s hand off his shoulder, Joji narrowed his eyes.
“No. She is not for sale, and everything is good. The room is nice and big. Thank you.”
Seiji frowned at Joji’s words, as if the thought of Joji refusing to sell her was distasteful.
“Oh. Maybe when you’re bored with her, then. You can share her. You know, to show some generosity for keeping you hidden from your mother.”
“I’m giving you money!”
“Payment is expected, but gratitude…”
A smile slowly crept across Seiji’s face.
“Gratitude is just common courtesy, don’t you think?”
He blew smoke from his cigarette into Joji’s face.
Again, Seiji’s eyes wandered toward the door, heat flickering in them.
Joji held himself back from grabbing Seiji’s head and popping it like a grape.
Instead, he leaned in close.
“I hear your father’s still looking for you?”
Seiji’s face went pale.
He moved away with an angry scoff.
“Well, your mother’s looking for you too.”
Yeah.
But that didn’t make them the same.
Joji didn’t rape and kill his sister.
No.
Joji’s only mistake was being born to a mother who left him behind to live her dream vicariously through her prettier son.
“Exactly. Let’s just stay out of each other’s way.”
Folding his arms, Joji watched the mixture of rage and anxiety dance across Seiji’s face as he slowly took a few steps back.
Joji watched as Seiji shuffled down the hallway, his anger clear as he kicked a door farther down the hall.
He would have to talk to his auntie about the company she kept.
Letting out an angry breath, Joji calmed himself before stepping back into the room.
“Hey, kid. Ya hungry?”
