Chapter 9 – The Fractured Step

Why was I even exhilarated about this stupid errand? Every time Asami so much as looked my way, something stirred in me—sharp and breathless. I couldn’t name it, didn’t want to. Better to think about the weight of the glass in my arms, the slosh of water inside, the bite of its edge against my skin.

I had just reached the staircase when pounding footsteps shook the floorboards. Someone was barreling toward me. I froze. I couldn’t risk shifting even an inch.

“Paige! Watch out!” a maid shouted.

Too late. She slammed into me. My arms jolted, the vase slipped, and gravity did the rest. A thunderous crash split the air, shards skittering down the steps.

“KyaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!” Maya’s scream ripped through the villa.

Pain tore up my ankle as I twisted, hitting the floor hard. Paige’s panicked cry tangled with Maya’s shriek.

I couldn’t breathe. My chest locked. Not from the pain—though fire licked up my ankle—but from the sight of porcelain scattered like bones across the stairs. Asami’s mother’s vase. Gone.

Paige’s face was white, her mouth trembling. She looked as if she’d been the one broken into pieces.

“Paige—hey, Paige.” My voice cracked, but I reached for her anyway. The fear in her eyes twisted something in me. She wasn’t terrified of me. She was terrified of him. Of what Asami would say. And God, so was I.

A crash. A scream. My own ragged breath tangled with the sound of porcelain shattering. Pain spiked sharp through my ankle as I clung to the railing, trying to haul myself upright. My palms slipped on the wood, my chest tight.

Then his voice—firm, clipped—cut through the chaos.

“What happened? What was broken?”

I dared a glance down. Master Asami stood at the foot of the stairs, annoyance etched across his face, eyes narrowing at the mess before him. Paige was sobbing. The other maids hovered, their gazes darting between me and the glittering shards of his mother’s vase.

Amelia’s voice trembled. “Paige bumped into Ichinose. He was carrying the large vase and it fell—he grabbed the railing, but I think he sprained his leg.”

My throat dried up. My ankle throbbed so hard I saw black around the edges of my vision, but that wasn’t what hollowed me out. It was the silence that followed. Asami’s silence.

He strode toward me, his hand firm under my arm before I could even resist. His grip steadied me, but his voice was for Paige, sharp as a blade.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going? Stairs aren’t the place for carelessness.”

Paige crumbled, crying harder. His next words struck deeper than the pain lancing up my leg.

“That vase was my mother’s favorite. Older than she would be, if she were alive.” His voice cracked—anger, grief, both. The change in his expression was like a shadow falling over us.

I went cold. Freezing. My stomach lurched as if I’d swallowed glass. His mother’s. Antique. Irreplaceable. And I’d been the one holding it when it shattered.

Before Paige could say anything, the words ripped out of me. My voice shook, thin and raw, but I forced it out.

“It was my fault. The vase was too big—I didn’t see her coming. I should’ve looked where I was going.”

I said it to save her, but the truth was it gutted me. The lie scraped my throat raw, because it didn’t matter whose fault it was. All that mattered was Asami’s face, unreadable, and the weight of my shame pressing harder than the pain in my ankle.

The maids rushed around me, gathering Paige up, whispering frantic apologies as they mopped water and swept porcelain. Their voices blurred together, just noise over the sharp ache grinding through my ankle.

Asami ignored their chatter. His eyes locked on me instead, and before I could protest, his arm slid under mine, lifting me. Pain shot white-hot up my leg.

“Ouch—ugh.” The groan tore out of me before I could bite it back. I couldn’t move two centimeters without fire ripping through me.

“Master Asami, how about the flowers? Such a pity if they’re wasted,” Aisha’s voice cut through, cautious.

“Don’t throw them away. They’re for my mother. Find another vase, put them in her room,” he answered, clipped but controlled.

She bowed quickly, signaling Maya and Mia to help, their movements efficient, almost grateful to have something to do besides look at me.

Asami turned back, his expression unreadable. “You can’t walk like this. I’ll get you to your room and find first aid.” His tone was matter-of-fact, but it pressed against me heavier than a command.

“Uh…” My throat betrayed me. That was all I managed—one strangled syllable. Fear gnawed at me—not just of the pain, not just of what he’d do about Paige, but of him. The weight of his anger.

He must’ve seen it. The tightness in my jaw, the way my eyes wouldn’t quite meet his. And then—God help me—he smiled. A small, fleeting thing, as if to say I had nothing to fear.

But that smile undid me more than his scowl. For a moment, I thought he might pull me in, hold me. The thought jolted through me, dangerous and wrong, and yet I wanted it.

Instead, he guided my arm over his shoulder, steadying me with a strength that nearly buckled my knees. My heart stuttered as I leaned into him, too close, too aware of his warmth, the faint scent of his cologne—sharp cedar, clean, unsettling.

His jaw was tight. He couldn’t quite hide the frustration twisting his face. The vase was his mother’s. Priceless, irreplaceable. His sigh rumbled against me as he adjusted his hold, almost like he was trying to exhale the anger instead of unleash it.

Then—before I could catch my breath—he shifted, lifting me clean off the ground, cradled against him. My stomach dropped, heat rushing to my face.

Carried. By him.

By the time we reached my room, every step had burned through me. Asami lowered me carefully onto the bed, but his face was carved sharp with anger.

“Don’t move. I’ll be back. Ice pack. First aid kit.” His voice cut like glass.

I only nodded. Words felt impossible, my throat tight with shame. I’d broken the only piece of his mother left behind. A memory. A relic. I felt worse than useless—worse than a corpse.

My hands pressed to my chest as if I could cage the panic breaking out inside me. A whisper clawed its way up before I could stop it.

Please, Lord… I’ll do anything. Just don’t let Master Asami be angry with me. Anything. Please.

Tears burned hot at the corners of my eyes. I shut them quickly, terrified of what might happen if his anger broke loose. Terrified that I’d ruined everything.

The door creaked. My breath hitched. Asami’s shadow fell across me. Had he heard?

I jerked my hands away from my chest like a child caught stealing sweets, shame crawling down my neck. His expression gave nothing away—only the smallest tightening around his mouth before he cleared his throat, a deliberate sound.

“Cough.” A fake little noise, pretending. Pretending he hadn’t heard me beg the ceiling for mercy.

He crouched beside me, his head bent low, hands precise as he wound the bandage around my swollen ankle. The brush of his fingers made me shiver, ridiculous given how gentle he was. The cold of the ice pack shocked through the throbbing heat, but the real sting came from his nearness, from the silence that felt heavier than any scolding.

“Tomorrow morning,” he said at last, voice quiet but firm, “we’ll go see a chiropractor. I want to know if it’s just a sprain or something worse.”

“Yes…” My answer came out too soft, too meek. I hated how it sounded, but fear still held me fast.

His gaze lingered on me a beat too long. Then his mouth twitched, like he was— holding back a grin.

“You should’ve just let me carry you.”

My face heated. “What, like some sack of rice?”

His eyes glinted. “No. Princess style.”

I choked, caught between outrage and something far more dangerous. “You wouldn’t dare.”

The corner of his mouth curved, slow and deliberate. “Don’t tempt me.”

And damn it—I wished, for one insane moment, that he would.

The silence that followed was worse than the teasing. His stare pinned me in place, sharp and steady, until my chest tightened with heat and humiliation. I couldn’t take it. With a groan, I grabbed the nearest pillow and yanked it over my face.

“Can I just… go to the doctor alone tomorrow? You could drop me off, and I’ll manage.” My voice came muffled through the fabric, cowardly, but safer than meeting his eyes.

Silence. Then—God help me—a soft laugh.

“No,” he said, too calmly. “Not happening. Either you let me walk you in… or I carry you princess style from the car, through the lobby, all the way into the doctor’s office.”

The pillow slipped from my hands. My jaw fell open. He was smiling, but there wasn’t a hint of joke in his tone.

“You… you wouldn’t dare.”

His eyes gleamed. “Try me.”

My stomach flipped, heat crawling down my spine. I should’ve argued. I should’ve begged him not to. But all I managed was a stiff, mortified nod.

“Good.” His hand brushed my hair, light, almost teasing, before settling in a gentle pat. “If you need anything, call. Or let the maids know.”

Then he sat on the edge of the bed. Too close. Way too close. My heart hammered so loud I swore he could hear it.

What is he doing—sitting here? On my bed? This is insane. Every nerve in my body fired at once. Does he know? Can he tell? I forced my face blank, though inside everything screamed.

“As for work,” he added, his voice steady even while mine felt like it was fraying, “you’ll stay here until the doctor clears you. Paige can help you.”

He sighed, long and heavy, as if he wanted to say more but stopped himself. Then he pushed to his feet, moving carefully so the mattress barely dipped. Relief flooded me at the thought of him leaving—though it was tangled with something far more dangerous.

Because even as he stepped away, part of me wanted him to stay.

And that terrified me most of all.

To be continued….