Page 24 of The Oyabun's Boy

The heat that coursed through me at the thought was familiar at least—desire, I understood. It was the tenderness that was dangerous, that made me weak.

I forced myself to stand, putting distance between us before I did something unforgivable. Something that would make those green eyes look at me with the horror and disgust I probably deserved.

No. When Joy came to me—and he would come to me—it would be with those eyes wide open. It would be with full knowledge of what I was, what I'd done, what I was capable of. His surrender would be sweeter for the wait, for the chase.

I'd never been a patient man. Patience was for those who lacked power. But for Joy, I would learn. For those lips forming my name not in sleep, but in passion, I would wait.

I straightened my cuffs, an unnecessary gesture that helped restore my equilibrium. The movement caught the moonlight on my watch—a reminder that time was passing, that there were still matters requiring my attention. My uncle wouldn't eliminate himself, unfortunately.

Yet I lingered, eyes tracing the curve of Joy's shoulder, the delicate line of his throat, the impossible fan of his eyelashes against his cheeks. Memorizing him in this unguarded state felt like stealing something precious—a vulnerability he would never willingly offer.

It didn't matter. I'd take it anyway. I'd take everything he was willing to give, and then I'd take more. Because that's who I was. That's what I did.

But I'd let him sleep.

For now.

I left Joy in his dreams and stepped out into the hallway, quietly pulling the door almost shut behind me. Not completely closed—I wanted to hear if he woke.

I took out my phone, keeping my voice low as I dialed a number that few people had access to. It was answered on the first ring, despite the hour.

"Mr. Hú," came the deferential voice of my personal procurer. The man who found the unfindable, for a price few could afford.

"I need a cat," I said without preamble.

A pause. "A... cat, sir?"

"A Chinchilla Persian. Green eyes." I glanced back through the crack in the door at Joy's sleeping form. "The exact shade of jade. Not emerald. Not forest. Jade."

Another pause, this one briefer. My procurer had learned long ago that questioning my requests led nowhere pleasant.

"Of course, sir. Male or female?"

I hadn't considered this detail. "Whichever is more... affectionate." The word felt foreign on my tongue.

"I understand. Timeline?"

"By morning."

"That's quite expedited for a specific—"

"By morning," I repeated, my voice dropping to the register that made sensible people take cover. "Price is no object. Quality is. The animal must be healthy, well-socialized, and precisely the coloring I specified."

"Yes, Mr. Hú. I'll make it happen." He didn't ask why the feared head of the Japanese syndicate suddenly needed a specific cat delivered overnight.

Smart man.

I ended that call and immediately dialed another number. This one belonged to the owner of an exclusive chocolatier inManhattan who had once needed a particularly messy problem to disappear. He answered with poorly disguised terror.

"I require your finest hot chocolate," I said. "The complete service. Belgian, I believe. With the hand-shaved chocolate curls and those small cookies."

"Mr. Hú, I—we don't normally deliver, but of course—"

"7 AM. Tomorrow. To Kotei Tower. The guards will direct you."

"Of... of course. It would be my pleasure."

I hung up, tucking the phone back into my pocket with practiced precision. Two calls. A cat and hot chocolate. I was ordering fucking hot chocolate and pets like some besotted teenager.