The sun had dipped low over Tokyo, casting long golden streaks across the glass-paneled lobby of the Shiroyama Grand Hotel. The tension inside, however, was anything but serene.
Ava sat in the suite's sunken lounge, fingers gripping a cooling cup of tea she hadn't touched. Mei and Harold had finally retreated to their own suite—after Mei loudly threatened to hex Julian with a matchmaking curse passed down from her Cantonese grandmother. Harold had started Googling "hex-proof security software," just in case.
But Ryan?
He hadn't sat still since Ethan walked away with that smug parting smirk.
He paced now, jaw tight, hands flexing like he was preparing closing arguments in court—or maybe a fistfight.
"I'm going to kill him," he muttered under his breath.
Ava looked up. "You're a lawyer. You don't get to say things like that casually."
