Poisonous Kiss: A Dark Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance
Poisonous Kiss: Chapter 10

Sometimes, no matter how much you plan, how many variables you assess, how many mock trials you run, unexpected things happen. A juror has an off day. Or the judge, for that matter. Or even the weather: snow in the forecast statistically has a way of making witnesses talk faster on the stand and sometimes gloss over important details.

That’s what happened on the stairs, addressing the office.

Something unexpected.

I’m not sure what my actual intention was. But it certainly wasn’t to wind up fucking kissing Fumi in front of everyone.

But it happened.

And I cannot, for the fucking life of me, get it out of my head.

The feel of her soft lips against mine. The shiver down her spine underneath my palm.

The little whimper in her throat.

Fuck. This is going to be a problem.

But here we are. And just as if something had gone unexpectedly in court, I’ll have to adjust, deflect, or move past it.

I’m choosing the latter as I step into my office, followed closely by Meredith, Josh, my campaign finance officer Bennet, and Fumi. Alistair tries to storm in too, but I stop him at the door.

“Private meeting,” I grunt.

“Fuck that, we’re talking. Now.”

“Believe me. We aren’t.”

His jaw clenches. “What the fuck was that?” he growls. “I mean Jesus Christ. How about a little goddamn respect?”

“Meaning?”

“Taylor and I are already bending over backward to allow this fucking campaign of yours, and I think we’re both being extremely accommodating in letting you run it as you see fit, even when it does affect the firm.”

His eyes narrow dangerously.

“So how about a fucking ounce of respect on your end? How about a heads up before you start bribing the fucking HR department and making grand statements that—spoiler—will absolutely affect the firm’s culture and our relationships with our employees.”

“Alistair—”

“I’m not asking for much here,,” he mutters. “Just not to be blindsided with a dickslap from my own brother at my own firm.”

I could mention how I had to act fast to stay ahead of the story. But at the end of the day, that doesn’t matter, and Alistair won’t give a shit. So⁠—

“I apologize,” I exhale, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’re right. I should have run that by you and Tay, even if it was a last-minute decision.”

“Yeah,” he grunts. “You fucking should have.” Then he sighs, shaking it off. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order?”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t.”

“Please,” he snickers. “I have just begun.”

He cocks a brow at me, turns, and then heads down the hall to his own office. I decide to be charitable and not call him out when I clearly catch a glimpse of Eloise sitting on his desk, with the blinds drawn across the interior-facing office windows.

Shutting my office door, I exhale and turn to address the people in the room.

“As we discussed, the amount today is going to be five million, not four.”

Meredith, Josh, and Bennet all barely contain their scowls of disapproval, but they just nod.

Fumi grins triumphantly.

I turn to my finance guy. “Bennet, you’re up.”

He clears his throat as he pulls a laptop out of his bag and moves to sit in one of the leather armchairs across from Fumi on the couch.

“Ms. Yamaguchi, while this transition is completely legal under discretionary campaign spending laws…”

I know. Shockingly, apparently it’s not illegal to pay someone to be your “wife” for political campaign reasons. That doesn’t mean it wouldn’t go over about as well as a musical theater adaptation of Schindler’s List if the public got wind of it.

“We’re going to be moving the money through a series of associated companies into your own account.”

Fumi nods.

“Now, that said,” Bennet continues in his dry tone, “if you’re okay with it, I’d like to assist you in setting up an…associated company of your own to receive⁠—”

“Oh, I already have my own shell corporation set up in the Caymans for that.”

Bennet looks surprised, and maybe a little impressed.

“Oh?”

“Sorry, I meant my own associated company,” Fumi says dryly.

Bennet turns red. “Again, nothing we’re doing today is violating⁠—”

“I don’t think you need to sell us on this, Bennet,” I growl. “Let’s keep moving.”

Fumi clears her throat, pulling the laptop toward her. She starts to type away.

“These are the routing details to my offshore account, filed under an LLC with my father as the sole officer.”

My brow cocks.

“You’re better at tax evasion and money laundering than I may be comfortable with, Ms. Yamaguchi.”

She shrugs. “As your friend here keeps mentioning,” she nods toward Bennet, “none of this, provided we follow the rules, is technically illegal. I set up my account in the Caymans because the taxes on you giving me five million would be crippling.” She smiles sarcastically at me. “And I don’t think you want⁠—”

“A paper trail,” I grunt. “No, obviously not. Which is why the money will be transferred from an unassociated third party.”

Bennet types a few things on the laptop, then raises his eyes to me. “Mr. Black, unless there’s anything else, we’re good to go.”

I nod. “Do it.”

There’s a click of the enter key. Bennet swallows thickly and Fumi’s grin threatens to split her face.

“Aaaand, it’s done,” Bennet nods.

“Congratulations, Ms. Yamaguchi,” I mutter. “Now, I’d advise not going out and buying a Lamborghini and a closet full of Armani⁠—”

“Yeah, I’m not actually an idiot, in case that was unclear,” Fumi tosses back with a sarcastic smile.

“Sir! Sir!” I frown, turning when I hear Jan outside my office. The blinds are drawn, so I can’t see who she’s yelling at as I hear her scramble out of her chair. “Sir! He’s in a meeting⁠—”

The door to my office bangs open. Two Japanese men in all black with gruff expressions on their faces come marching inside, heedless of my assistant’s warnings.

I twist to face them, my jaw set.

“Can I help you?”

The taller of the two is a good-looking guy, broad-shouldered and athletic, with a clean face, slightly longish dark hair, and sharp, dark eyes who looks a few years younger than me. A swirl of tattoo ink peeks out from the collar of his black button-up.

It’s the other guy, a bit shorter and a whole lot meaner-looking, who steps forward and bows stiffly.

“I apologize,” he murmurs in a heavily accented voice. “I didn’t mean to alarm anyone barging in like this.”

“Barging in has that effect on people,” I growl back.

He smiles widely, bowing again. “Indeed, Mr. Black! Very true!”

I don’t smile back. “As my assistant told you outside, I’m afraid I’m in a meeting. If you’d like to wait⁠—”

“But I believe,” the man says with another too-wide smile, “that I am part of this meeting.” He looks past me and beams as he nods his chin. “Ms. Yamaguchi! Surely you have not started without me!”

I turn with a frown, noticing the way Fumi pales a little.

Instantly, I hate the way the shorter man is looking at her. Like he owns her, or she’s beholden to him. The ferocious feeling inside my chest stuns me a little.

The men begin to walk over to her. In one motion, before I even think it through, my arm juts out, blocking them from taking another step.

“Exactly who are you,” I growl.

Something flashes in the man’s eyes, but fades as he smiles once again.

“Ah! My sincere apologies again, Mr. Black! My name is Shiro Watanabe. I’m Ms. Yamaguchi’s accountant.”

Really? The man looks like he’d be more at home at an underground poker game than behind an accountant’s desk. When I glance at Fumi, she nods quickly.

“He… He knows my dad.”

Mr. Watanabe chuckles. “Yes, Mr. Yamaguchi and I go way back, Mr. Black.” He turns to me, bowing again. “Now, if you don’t mind?”

He flashes another grin before he and his buddy walk over to Fumi. She still looks pale, but when she catches my glance, she shrugs quickly. “They’re from Japan.”

“Kyoto,” Shiro clarifies. “Have you ever been?”

“Tokyo. Never Kyoto.”

“A shame, Mr. Black. It’s beautiful. You should come visit sometime.”

“I’ll consider it.”

He nods. The other guy walks over, pulls a laptop out of his bag, and places it in front of Fumi. Shiro opens it and types away before turning to nod at her.

“We are ready for you to make the transfer, Ms. Yamaguchi.”

I frown. “Excuse me. What transfer?”

The man turns and bows deeply. “Forgive me for not mentioning it before. We have advised Ms. Yamaguchi to move the money she’s just received into a few other accounts.”

“Immediately?” Bennet asks curiously.

“Yes.”

There’s a slightly annoyed look on Shiro’s face. I frown, catching Fumi’s eye. Again, she just shrugs. “My dad swears by them. With him being a first-generation immigrant, there’s always extra scrutiny on his financial matters.”

Shiro smiles at me, then at Fumi.

“We can proceed as soon as you type in the delivering account details.”

She swallows as she stares at the screen. Then she leans close to the laptop, types a few keys, and hits enter.

“Done.”

Shiro glances at his friend, who is monitoring his phone. A second later, the taller man nods, pushing his hair back from his face. Shiro’s lips curl as he closes the laptop and looks down at Fumi.

“Well, Ms. Yamaguchi,” he says mildly, “I believe that concludes our business.”

“I believe so.”

Again, the way this Watanabe is looking at her makes my blood boil, for reasons I don’t quite understand.

He bows low. “Our regards to your father.” He turns and walks toward me, extending his hand. I shake it and he bows again. “Congratulations on your engagement, Mr. Black.” He throws a grin to Fumi before turning back to me. “You’re a very lucky man.”

Lucky? Maybe. Right now, what I really am is curious.