Page 75 of Apollo

Why, why, why was she a thousand times more gorgeous than the surrogate goddess of quiet rage? Lyssa might not like that, though. Perhaps his Little Monster better suited a new title. Perhaps something like the Mother of Slow Tension or the Paragon of White Knuckles. Either worked, turning her profile into a silhouette more alluring than Aphrodite, with her chin high and proud, her nose straight and lovely, her dark curls high yet soft along her temples and cheeks.

Damn. She was more worthy of her nickname now than when he’d stuck it on her. Not that he’d say it aloud without explaining why. Not without telling her how monsters were the most noble creatures of all: having to fight when they didn’t understand why; choosing to love even when the world pelted them with bombs.

Like the megaton payload her sister had just dropped on her.

That, unbelievably, she processed enough to speak about now.

“All right. Let’s break this down,” she said, voice as quiescent as the waters beyond the window. At the same time, even in her borrowed tee and jeans, she crossed her legs with the regal aplomb of a monarch. “First of all”—her scrutiny on Genny went the shade of hard Ming green—“you’re okay, sister? Have they fed you? Are you sleeping? And what about your medications?”

Eugenia Steed beamed a smile that couldn’t have been feigned if she tried. “Check, check, and check. I mean, don’t faint, but I think I’ve gained a couple of pounds. Wennie, wait ’til you taste Jun’s cooking. Chou-oishii.”

“Okay, okay.” Irowen flung up a tense hand. “Hold up there.”

Genny’s expression fell. “You already don’t believe me?”

“Fuck that,” came the fast and fierce retort. “Of course I believe you. But—”

“What?”

“You . . . speak Japanese now.”

As Irowen doubled down on her dazed words with a matching wince, Genny erupted with quick bright laughter. “The two of us were locked in together for nearly a month, with internet spottier than an Edna Turnblad housecoat. All I had was anime-level Nihongo and all Jun had was Baz Luhrmann-level Eigo. What do you think we did to entertain each other?”

Irowen surged to her feet and stuck hands into her back pockets. “Not what I’m dreading you were doing, eh?”

As she spoke, Apollo studied their new foreign friend. Matsuda’s unguarded reaction would be telling. Luckily—and a little surprisingly—it gave sincerity and decency. The handsome kid, whom he estimated around thirty, actually broke out in a telltale blush before nervously glancing out the window. But just as swiftly, he steeled his jaw, squared his shoulders, and turned to Iroqen with a determined gaze.

“Irowen Sama, if I may speak now, please.” He pulled in a breath, even nodding boldly when Genny caught his eye with an encouraging smile. “I assure you, I have only honored your sister. To lie with her like you must think . . . Well, no. That is not my code. Especially not with her.”

To Irowen’s credit, she allowed the guy to finish, especially because Matsuda wasn’t half-done before Apollo hedged some large inner bets on her reaction.

Here it came . . .

“Code?” she finally flung back, narrowing her eyes as if the two of them had actually emerged from the bedroom in nothing but the sheets and their smiles. “Code. Really? Jun San, you haven’t forgotten the you’re yakuza part of this scenario, have you? I mean, unless those guys have altered their so-called codes lately—”

Genny raced forward, abandoning her cheery mien, a blurt clearly ready on her parted lips. “He’s quitting.”

Jun sagged onto a nearby ottoman. “Oh, Genny. Yare. Oh, dear . . . ” And then plunged his head into his hands.

At once, Irowen’s sister dropped to her knees beside him. Gomenesai, Hani.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’m sorry, my love; I am But we agreed we would tell her, yes? We promised there’d be no secrets from our families.”

“But that’s a problem,” Apollo inserted. “You two know that, right? Because Ito and the gokudō have become his family.”

Admittedly, he rushed to get the objection in before Irowen could. If he said it instead before her, he’d save her the anxiety, right?

Idiot.

The truth was always the truth, no matter who granted it volume. His Chandelier Girl already threw out her ratification by turning and pacing thoughtfully toward the slider onto the balcony. With hands jammed into her back pockets, she seemed totally fine about letting her sister and Matsuda squirm through a long, thick silence.

Thankfully, after another long hug with Genny, Matsuda pushed up from the ottoman. He stood with pride in the middle of the room, though faced Irowen’s direction before dipping forward with a low, respectful bow.

“Eugenia is right. I am leaving the yakuza. But my decision began before I met her. I simply did not have the courage to act upon it.” He slipped one hand out, reaching for Genny with fierce purpose. “Irowen Sama . . . meeting your sister and basking in the light of her irreverent ways . . . watching her wake up and face each day with hope and with humor, no matter if she was our captive or not . . . and most of all, knowing her bravery . . . She gave me—what is that word?—inspiration. Yes. Inspiration.”

Genny’s snuffle intruded the air so obnoxiously nobody could hold back laughs, the weepy girl included. “J-Jun,” she stammered. “My love.” She snorted as Irowen spun back around. “I’m sorry, Wennie. But yes, I’ve said it. And yes, we’re sure about this. We’re in love.”

“More than that, I am committed to your sister,” Matsuda insisted. “Not just in love with her. I have decided to love her. Honor her. Take care of her. Be a good man for her.” He added his other hand to their fervent clasp, wrapping fingers possessively around Genny’s knuckles. “I know this process will not be easy—”

“We know it won’t be easy.” Genny bolstered her stance. “But Wen, we’ve had a lot of time to talk it through and plan for all the contingencies. And we know—”