This was total bullshit.

“Is there a problem?” Ms. Hirano asked.

“Yes.” Amery hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. “Who are you really?”

“Excuse me?”

“Who are you? This last-minute meeting with the company bigwig doesn’t make sense. Neither does the fact that none of your other business associates are here except for Jenko, who I’m assuming is your bodyguard since he didn’t seem comfortable serving tea. And there’s the fact that you can’t even deign to look me in the eye. So you can understand why I’d be concerned this is some sort of scam.”

“I assure you Okada Foods Conglomerate is not a scam.”

“I know that. I did my research. I’m saying your being here doesn’t make any sense and I wonder what you really want from me.”

“A little paranoid, aren’t you, Ms. Hardwick?”

Amery shrugged. “So prove me wrong.”

“How?”

“Take off your sunglasses.”

“Why is that necessary?”

“Because playing the cool, mysterious food magnate hidden behind unflattering cheap sunglasses doesn’t ring true for you.”

She cocked her head prettily. “How so?”

“Nothing about you is cheap. Or unstylish. You bought those sunglasses for one reason only; they’re big enough to mask more than half of your face. So why do you want to hide your face from me?”

“You read that much into this? How is it you think you know so much about me thirty minutes after meeting me?”

Amery pointed to the purse on the opposite end of the table. “Your handbag is from Hermès and runs about twenty-five thousand dollars. The diamond-encrusted watch on your wrist is easily in the hundred-thousand-dollar range. Your shoes? Roughly ten grand. I don’t have any idea which designer you’re wearing, but I’ll bet a month’s rent that suit is not off the discount rack from a Tokyo department store. Your scarf, also Hermès, set you back around fifteen hundred bucks. So the cheap sunglasses don’t fit. Besides, if you truly had a vicious headache, you wouldn’t take a meeting with me.”

She smiled. “Very astute.”

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, but my gut instinct is warning me to walk out.”

“Walk away from a project that could potentially pay you six figures?”

Don’t think about the money; think about the principle. Amery raised her chin a notch. “Yes, ma’am. Who are you?”

“Who do you think I am?”

Ask if she’s Naomi.

No. She didn’t even know Naomi’s last name. “You ditching the shades or not?”

“How like him you are,” she muttered. “Believing eyes are the windows to the soul and all that crap.”

Who was him? Was this woman completely bonkers?

Just as she’d decided to cut her losses and run, Ms. Hirano lowered her head and removed the shades.

When she glanced up at Amery, Amery’s entire body seized in shock. In recognition. Looking into those amber-colored eyes, she knew. Only one other person she’d ever met had eyes like that.

Ronin Black.

“They are a giveaway, aren’t they?” she murmured. “You can see why I felt the need to mask them.”

“Yes,” Amery managed, relieved this woman wasn’t Naomi. But facing a member of Ronin’s family when she knew next to nothing about said family . . . not fun either. She couldn’t be certain yet how this woman was related to Ronin. “You are Ronin’s . . . ?”

“Sister.” She gave Amery that same seated bow she’d seen Ronin do a hundred times. “I’m Shiori Hirano.”

Ten billion questions bounced around in Amery’s head, but she couldn’t give voice to a single one.

“You’re not what I expected, Amery.”

“To say that I wasn’t expecting you, Ms. Hirano, is an understatement.”

“Please. Call me Shiori.”

She pronounced it she-o-ree. “Where’s the Hirano come in? The whole Japanese family surname first, and then the given name last confuses me.”

“Hirano was my married name. I opted not to change it back after the divorce. In Japan I introduce myself as Hirano Shiori. When dealing with people in Europe or the West, I switch it to the Westernized version Shiori Hirano. My headache is such I neglected to do that today.”

Amery couldn’t help but stare at Ronin’s exotic-looking sister.

“I know Ronin and I don’t look alike—except we both have our mother’s eyes. Although we do have the same parents. Our father was an eighth Japanese.”

Amery frowned. Had Ronin ever told her that about his father? No. “Does Ronin know you’re here in Denver?”

Shiori shook her head. “Curiosity about you got the better of me.”

He’d spoken to his sister about her? “What did he tell you about me?”

“Nothing. He circumvented my involvement by dealing with Maggie. He demanded that we hire your firm, sight unseen, for a major product launch for the family business. Naturally that caused a major red flag.”

“What family business?”

Shiori’s gaze sharpened. “You really don’t know? When you can rattle off the retail price of every item on my body? You know exactly what Ronin is worth. I’m observant too, Ms. Hardwick. Don’t try and snow me like you’ve snowed my brother.”