Schooled (Mastered 2.5)

Ronin gave her an odd look. “Why would she ask you to do that?”

She shrugged. “She handed me a key before we left and asked if I’d mind doing a walk-through while I was in the building. So I did. Nice place.” Although, Amery didn’t poke around much, afraid she might actually find the Hello Kitty whip collection Shiori had mentioned.

The elevator doors opened and two huge, mean-looking dudes waited for them. Their postures became only slightly less menacing when they realized Nureki Okada’s grandson had arrived. They merely pointed up the marble staircase when Ronin inquired after his grandfather.

Once they were out of earshot, Amery murmured, “Jenko, Shiori’s bodyguard, was downright jovial compared to them.”

“It’s not an act either. They will fuck you up if you’re even remotely considered a threat to Ojisan.”

She tightened her hand around Ronin’s when they reached the top of the stairs. “Speaking of . . . what am I supposed to call him? I don’t know protocol for this. He’s Ojisan to you. Okada is his surname so do I call him Mr. Okada? Because it seems presumptive on my part to call him Nureki.”

Ronin stopped and loomed over her. “Amery, do not freak yourself out about this. If you make a misstep, my mother will correct you. Ojisan is a shark. He smells fear on you he’ll zero in on it.”

Now her panic really kicked in.

“But remember, baby. You’re here with me. I’d never allow my grandfather to disrespect you. Part of the reason we came early is so you can meet him without an audience.”

“Promise me you’ll translate everything he says and you won’t editorialize it.”

“I promise.”

Shiori had told Amery previously her grandfather spoke English but pretended he didn’t. It gave him an advantage when companies conversed in English, assuming he didn’t understand.

Opulent was too tame a word to describe the entire space they entered. Gold and marble were everywhere. The prices of the rugs alone could probably feed an entire country.

Don’t gawk and for godsake don’t whip out your cell phone and snap a selfie in front of the gold-plated sea turtle sculpture.

“I hear the wheels churning,” Ronin murmured. “What are you thinking about?”

“What was it like to come to a place like this to visit your grandfather when you were young?”

“Ojisan didn’t live here when I was a kid. This building is only ten years old. Believe it or not, my mother managed to talk him out of even gaudier furnishings than this. He has a need for people to know he has money.”

“Then there’s his minimalist grandson.”

He shrugged. “Another point of contention between us.”

“Because you can’t be bought.” As soon as she’d said it she wished she could take it back.

The muscle in Ronin’s jaw flexed. “He tried. When actual money didn’t work he set me up with Naomi. Making me think I’d found . . .”

Acceptance. A woman who loved him and understood all sides of him.

Those scars in him ran deep, which just told her how lonely and unlovable he must’ve felt before his ex, Naomi, entered the picture.

Then and there Amery made a silent promise to him. You’ll never be lonely again, Ronin. Not a day will go by that you won’t know—and believe—how much you are loved.

“Now I need a fucking drink.”

Amery squeezed his forearm. “Huh-uh, ninja. You’re not leaving me alone. Let’s do this.”

Nureki Okada didn’t like having his picture taken so she’d only seen a couple grainy shots of him online. She wouldn’t know who he was until she was introduced to him.

“At least he’s not surrounded by his harem,” Ronin muttered.

“What? You were serious about his multiple mistresses?”

“Yes. Ojisan is a player. Or he was.” A sneaky smile spread across Ronin’s face. “Probably why he hated it so much when I joined an all-male martial arts school.”

“Because you couldn’t go out and pick up chicks with him?”

He snorted. “Hardly. But he did want to build me in his image.”

They reached the group of three in front of the windows. Her mouth dried and her palms itched when she realized this was the moment.

Tamara turned around and smiled. “So glad you could come early.”

The man to Tamara’s left was her age or a little younger. Then Amery glanced at the man to Tamara’s right.

Shrewd brown eyes much like Ronin’s assessed her. She assessed him right back. This man couldn’t be in his eighties. He looked a good twenty years younger than that. It was obvious Ronin had inherited some of his looks from his grandfather. With his silver hair he looked like an older version of Ken Watanabe. A meaner version. Even when his hands rested on a cane, his posture remained regal.

Ronin’s warm hand pressed into the small of her back. “Ojisan. I’d like to introduce my wife, Amery. Amery, my grandfather, Nureki Okada.” Then he repeated the words in Japanese.

He inclined his head rather than bowing.

Amery bowed, happy she didn’t have to shake his hand or else he’d notice how much her entire body was shaking. “I’m happy to finally meet the man who’s had such a huge impact on my husband’s life.”

Ronin translated.

His grandfather responded.

This exchange went on for a minute or so.