Chiaki Hasegawa is a multi-million selling singer songwriter, but her career peak is a decade behind her. Now she lives like a caged bird, fighting to escape the violent and oppressive grip of her manager, Masaaki Iida, who is desperate to resurrect her career, no matter what the cost.
Then one day she meets Ben Wilson, a traveller and train blogger struggling with his heartbreak and obligation to the family he wronged.
Chiaki's life is turned on its head, and for the first time she sees the possibility of a life beyond music.
But Masaaki Iida will never allow it.....
Stolen is the second in my Tokyo Lost romantic suspense series and sells a few copies. I think it would do well in other languages, particularly Japanese, where it is set, and where I live.
‘Stop staring at me.’
The bottle of pills didn’t answer. Chiaki narrowed her eyes. She felt the thick eyeliner crack. She closed her eyes and remembered how it had felt, stuffing them into her mouth, the dry chalkiness making her cough before the tickle of the lemonade had washed them down. She remembered that moment of peace, that everything would now be all right, followed by the haziness as her vision started to blur and she fell into a pale, dreamless sleep—
The door flew open and Ryo peered in, his grey hair slicked back. With a start Chiaki twisted sideways, blocking his view of the dressing table so he wouldn’t see the bottle. She brushed a strand of hair away from her face and tilted her head.
‘Yes?’
‘Are you coming? I know it’s hardly the Budokan, but we’re still keeping people waiting.’
She noted the use of “we’re”, as if it were anyone other than her own fault. She felt that familiar rising anger, but swallowed it down. He was trying.
‘Give me a minute.’
Ryo nodded. ‘Sure.’
Chiaki lifted her fingers and gave them a quick flex. Even now, after years of performing, she felt nervous being without the piano. It was her crutch, and without it she had always felt alienated, but her own piano playing, while good, wasn’t quite concert standard. It—
She shook her head. It didn’t matter. Ryo, and the audience, were waiting. She closed the door and headed down the narrow corridor to the stage entrance.
