While I know that this is a work trip and not a honeymoon, I eagerly peek out the window as the Rolls-Royce bringing us from the private airport enters the city.
Evening is settling over Tokyo and already the city is alive with ribbons of neon; pink, blue, yellow, and eye-searing green. The buildings tower over us and the streets are crammed with people. Expensively dressed businesspeople, tired tradesfolk eager to head home, and teenagers with hair in colors brighter than the neon on the buildings.
Torin is sitting next to the limo driver, clearly displeased to not be behind the wheel, but accepting the driver has a better knowledge of the streets of Tokyo than he does. Ian gets out first at the Four Seasons Hotel, scanning the circular drive and intimidating the poor doorman who rushes up to help us. Three more MacTavish security guards, including Michael's second in command Kyle, are following us in another SUV and they're out of their car and circling us in moments, escorting us into the hotel lobby.
A manager is waiting for us, impeccably dressed in an expensive navy suit, her hair smoothed back into a pristine chignon. Greeting us with a warm smile and a graceful bow, she hands our key cards to Michael.
"Konbanwa, good evening, Mr. MacTavish. We are honored to have you and your lovely wife here."
It's my first real taste of how outsiders view my husband and I can see how his effect is intimidating. At 6"5, he already towers over most people, but his shoulders seem even wider, and his chest broader, a mountain of a man. The chill is back on his handsome face. I've seen him in business mode before, but there's a sharper edge to him, now that we're away from Scotland.
"Konbanwa, Miss Yamada." He puts his hand on my lower back, steadying me. "This is my bride, Sophie MacTavish. I trust ye will do everything ye can to make her stay comfortable here?"
Eyes wide, she nods rapidly. "Madam, I have already taken the liberty of leaving a few potential itineraries for you in your suite. Should you wish to shop, or see a show or visit some cultural landmarks, I would be delighted to personally arrange anything you would wish to do."
A little amused because I have never gotten a reception like this before, I bow my head politely. "You are so kind, thank you."
Michael refuses her offer to escort us to our suite, and Ian brings us quickly to the closest lift. Two businessmen are about to step in with us, take one look at our bristle of bodyguards and step right back out again. I shake my head very slightly in our mirrored reflection of the steel doors at Michael.
"You do know how to make an entrance don't you?'
His gaze returns to his phone and whatever document he's rapidly scanning, but his fingers clasp mine and squeeze gently, and my chest loosens a bit.
Our suite is a series of rooms with a clean, minimal design and an utterly spectacular view of the city. The walls are a patterned silk that look like the movement of the ocean, and chandeliers are sculpted glass that mimic the same look. There's an enormous living room with two walls of glass overlooking the city, a small kitchen, a dining room with a long ebony table, and two or three small side bedrooms. The master bedroom commands the same incredible view of the city, with pristine white linens and elegant, drooping orchid arrangements. The men set our luggage in the bedroom, and Ian quickly closes the double doors, leaving Michael and me alone.
Lucky that Michael insisted on buying you all that fancy luggage, Jordan murmurs. Though I would have loved to have seen you drag your ratty old backpack up here.
Yeah, way to put me at ease, brother.
"This isn't the honeymoon. I owe you,' Michael says wryly. However, I think you should do some shopping. Find a beautiful dress that you'd like to wear to dinner this evening. We will be meeting with the heads of the Matsumori Yakuza tomorrow night."
"Would you maybe get a chance to see a couple of things with me?' I ask. "I'd love to go to Mt. Fuji and spend some time at a couple of the Sengen shrines."
Somewhere peaceful. The perfect place to tell him that we're having a baby.
"Of course," I chicken out. "You've probably already seen all of those, you've taken so many trips here."
This time his smile is regretful. "Sadly, I haven't seen much of the city outside of hotels and board rooms," he admits. "It's always been for business. Let me take you to dinner tonight, I'll make sure to bring ye back for a longer visit, aye?'
I get it." And I do. Chieftains apparently don't get vacations, but maybe that can change. "I'm sure wherever you're taking me for dinner will be heart-stopping and the most exquisite culinary adventure ever created."
"Of course it will," he leers, his hand sliding down to squeeze my ass. "I have a couple of conference calls, and then I'll be yours for the rest of the night." He nips the pulse in my neck lightly and I suppress a pathetic little whimper. "And ye will be all mine."
This trip is off to an excellent start.
Michael is already deep in meetings by the time I wake up. The suite has a board room with a huge monitor and through the door, I hear the muted conversation, my husband's deep voice and the serious one I recognize as Mason's. Neither one of them sounds happy.
"Mr. MacTavish arranged a helicopter tour of Mt. Fuji for ye today," Ian says. "Torin, Mickey, and I will be accompanying ye."
"Three of you?" I frown. "Is there some new disaster?"
"Standard asset security measures for international travel."
It takes me a minute to realize I'm the asset here.
I wait for a moment until the room is silent and knock on the door. "Michael? Do you have a minute?"
Kyle opens the door with a polite nod. Michael is armored up in his charcoal grey Tom Ford suit, my favorite, with a forest green silk tie. I wish I could straddle him in that fancy office chair and show him how much I appreciated last night, but he's got that cold set to his jaw again.
"Oh, crap," I sigh. "There's something new and horrible, isn't there?"
"Jack just called in from Boston." He rubs his forehead. "They're under attack. Wallace and Scarlett are on their way over now."
"Jack's running Scarlett's family syndicate business there, right?" I ask. Jack is Maisie's twin and if I'm right, this is his first big responsibility.
"Aye. Someone burned down their three biggest cannabis warehouses," he says, still calm but his eyes are glowing with fury.
"Let me stay here today," I ask. "There has to be something I can do. I don't want to split up your team playing tourist when there's so much going on. Your phone call with Mason didn't sound good, either."
"Three of our crypto accounts have been compromised."
There's emotions warring in me and the first – happiness – makes me feel guilty as hell. But I am happy, he's trusting me enough to share his problems. Happiness is rapidly smothered by worry. "Both on the same day? Does it feel like whoever's behind this mess is ramping up?"
"Possibly." He stands up and paces in front of the windows, Tokyo a backdrop to his rage. "Given the range of security breaches, this is someone in our inner circle. There's no other way this could happen."
"When you say inner circle…" I walk closer, like this can only be said if it's whispered. "Do you mean family? Like, immediate family?"
His gaze is bleak. "I… dinnae what to think."
I don't go on my helicopter tour of Mt. Fuji and the shrines, to the deep relief of Ian and Torin who also did not want to split up the security force. I stay in the suite with Michael, bringing him lunch. Filling up his glass of whisky. As the afternoon bleeds into evening, he lets me remove his prosthetic and rub his thigh.
Somehow, that feels more intimate than anything else we've done together.
Michael is forced to stop working as our dinner meeting with Matsumori Yakuza draws closer. I can tell he's unhappy about it because he showers and changes without requesting my presence to "scrub his back."
"What do I need to know about tonight?" I ask, turning my back so he can zip me up. Because I refused to leave him and go shopping, he had the manager, Miss Yamada, send up ten dresses to choose from. I pick a sleeveless, silvery gray silk one that matches my eyes in the right light.
"We'll be meeting Ren Matsumori, Oyabun of the Matsumori Yakuza," he says, calloused fingers brushing my neck as he zips me.
"He's essentially the Chieftain, then?"
"Exactly. He's vicious and cunning, but he'll be all courtly grace tonight. Inviting us to his home is an honor. Minato, his son, is his father's Wakagashira, the second in command. He's greedy, he wants his father's position."
Michael kisses me, slow, a gentle slide of his tongue, just enough to make me sway toward him when he pulls back.
"Tease…" I whisper.
While we're waiting for Ian and Torin to assemble the vehicles, I call Mom. We talk every day, but it was too late to call at our regular time yesterday when we landed. No answer.
"Hey Mom, just checking in. Tokyo is beautiful. I'll sample some desserts here and see if there's anything you might want to add in on the bakery menu. Love you."
As we drive out of the city and into the hills above it, the searing glow behind us refuses to fade, all blazing light and neon. A smear of brilliance. No doubt it could be seen from space. As we drive deeper into the hills though, the aggressive modernity of Tokyo fades into a timeless sense of elegance; beautifully sculpted trees that must be hundreds of years old, mansions tucked into their private enclaves and barely seen from the road.
We're nearly at the top of the hill when we finally go through two sets of massive iron gates, with grim-faced guards checking the car at both points. As we head up the winding drive, Michael squeezes my hand.
"The Matsumori castle is stunning," he says. "It was constructed nearly four hundred years ago. Remember, the greeting is Konbanwa, Oyabun Matsumori.' Rank is important. We are considered equal status, so a bow of your head is appropriate."
"Khon-bahn-wah," I murmur, trying to get the pronunciation down.
"In the yakuza culture, women are expected to be silent, unless addressed," he says. "My apologies in advance, dinnae feel slighted, aye?"
"Understood,' I say. "Tradition is very important here and I want to make a good impression for you."
"I know ye will, my sweet lass.' He kisses my hand with a smile.
We round the corner and there it is… the castle soars up to the night sky, multiple stories with the beautiful Chidori-hafu gables, curving up like bird's wings. Unlike the searing light of the city, the castle is all soft. Golden lights illuminate the walkways and shine warmly through the windows, and the effect is timeless. It feels like we could be in any century… aside from the very modern Bentley that is depositing us at the front door.
There are security men in dark suits, lining the perimeter of the house, moving silently through the trees and in a couple of higher vantage points, there are guard towers. More security, cradling rifles in their arms.
I can feel it again, that sense of the ice cracking under my feet and childishly, I hold my breath.
It will be fine. Nothing will go wrong here.
Michael's hand is firm on my lower back, but I think he senses it too as we climb the long flight of stairs to the entryway. His handsome face freezes into a forbidding expression as a uniformed servant opens the door.
"Welcome, my friends!" A man in his mid-forties is there, spreading his arms wide, inclining his head respectfully. The son, I'm thinking. "Welcome to our home." He's wrapped in an expensive suit, his wildly colorful tattoos creeping up his neck and over the collar of his white dress shirt.
He smiles as we are introduced, Michael's expression a sudden mask of affability.
"Konbanwa, Wakagashira Minato," I say, hoping to god that I got it right.
"It is a pleasure to have you here, new Mrs. MacTavish," he says. "I fear my wife Himari becomes bored with these affairs and it will be a pleasure for her to have company."
As if she'd been hovering just out of sight, a woman glides out from a side door, so willowy and graceful that I feel like I'm all awkward angles to her delicate lines, like I have hooves, instead of feet. She's very young, younger than me, I think. Her hair is cut in a beautiful sleek, black bob and she smiles at me shyly.
"Perhaps I could ask you to join me for tea and something light?" she asks. "I fear the men's meetings can sometimes drag on, and I wouldn't wish you to perish from hunger while we wait." I smile uncertainly, glancing up at Michael and he nods, leaning down to kiss my cheek.
"Go ahead," he whispers. "The meeting shouldn't take long. Ian will stay with you."
I nod and smile. Thank you. That would be lovely." Inwardly, I cringe. I sound like I'm an extra on Downton Abbey.
Himari leads me down a long hallway with painted screens lining the walls. Alcoves light up every few feet with beautifully displayed weaponry and armor. There are gleaming swords, and Samurai battle armor displayed with a reverence that tells me they're priceless. There's a heaviness here that presses down on me, the longer we walk. This place is a testament to violence.
Finally, something with a feminine energy as Himari guides me into a drawing room with silk-covered furniture and windows that look regally out over Tokyo, like a monarch overseeing his kingdom.
I catch a glimpse of Ian's unhappy expression as Himari's guard shuts the door, leaving them both in the hall.
There's already a tea set laid out, delicate porcelain cups in vivid enamel designs, threaded through with silver and gold, along with a tray of food that looks more like divine pieces of art, rather than something edible.
Himari pauses, hovering over her chair. I'm frozen next to the couch, uncertain of who should sit first. We seat ourselves at the same time with a little chuckle and the first genuine smiles from us both.
"How nice to have such a young husband," she says, carefully pouring me a cup of dark tea.
Michael's twelve years older than me, but I'm guessing her husband is somewhere in his mid-40s so I can see her point.
"How long have you and Minato been married?' I ask politely and her smile dims slightly, like a flickering bulb.
"Six months,' she says.
Have you known him for long?' I ask.
"Six months.'noveldrama
I understand.' I say. Arranged marriages may be rare for regular folks, but not in the crime world.
A flicker of shadow passes over the tea set as two guards pace past the window. She sips her tea and pretends not to notice.
"Your estate seems very active," I venture. "Is it always…"
Like Fort Knox?
"Oh, well…" she takes another ladylike sip. "I believe we have another guest on the way." A dark little smile spreads over her face. "I fear you will not enjoy this surprise at all."