Emperor of Wrath: A Dark Mafia Enemies To Lovers Romance

The triumphant feeling I get from locking Kenzo out of his own bedroom is short lived, because I forgot the golden rule of siege warfare: have enough provisions to outlast the enemy.

Eventually, the next afternoon, it’s hunger that has me coming out of my fortress. When I do, though, I’m met with a surprise.

Kenzo isn’t waiting for me so that he can grab me and yell at me for locking him out. In fact, he’s nowhere to be seen.

I looked, and yes, the house is huge, but no matter how many rooms I poke my head into, I’m finally forced to acknowledge that my husband is not here.

I don’t take as much glee in that as I should.

I end up finding Hana doing some work sitting outside in one of the many gorgeous gardens. When she explains what it is she does for Kenzo and Sota, I laugh, because it turns out we have similar roles, albeit different styles. She’s not so much the scary bitch that walks into negotiations and sets the place on fire, like me, but her cool, laser-focused precision makes her a force to be reckoned with as the head of business acquisitions for the Mori and Akiyama families.

Other than her, though, the house really does appear to be empty. No Mal. No Takeshi. No Kenzo.

And no staff. Hana explains that there’s a housekeeper and a cleaner who come twice a week. Other than that, there’s just Jiro, the chef from the plane—who works for Kenzo, not Sota, as I would have guessed.

I make myself some coffee and a snack in the huge modern kitchen. Then I find a tranquil spot next to a koi pond outside and get to work. Hours later, there still seems to be nobody around.

I close my laptop and take a walk around the grounds. A few guards spot me, but they seem to know who I am and barely look at me, giving me only quick, perfunctory nods before continuing on their patrols.

High, wire-topped fences surround Kenzo’s property. I make my way to the imposing front torii gate that we drove through when we first arrived. Then I follow the main drive back up to the house, and keep going, past it.

Evening is starting to fall when I stumble across the massive garage. I gawk as I step inside and take in the rows and rows of gorgeous vintage cars and motorcycles. The sound of what might be a power drill draws me past the Corvettes, Mustangs, Porches, and a beautiful old Ferrari, and I walk through another doorway into a mechanic’s bay.

Takeshi is crouched over a bike frame, welding some bits together. When he sees me approach in his peripheral vision, he kills the power and lifts the welder’s mask, painted to resemble a ferocious hannya mask.

“Looking for your boyfriend?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“He and Mal are out on a business thing.”

I shrug. “Okay.”

“Heard you made him sleep on the couch.”

I turn to Takeshi. “I didn’t make him sleep anywhere. It didn’t have to be the couch. I just pressed my advantage and locked him out of the bedroom so I could have it to myself.”

Takeshi smirks. “So is this the newlywed honeymoon phase I hear so much about?”

I roll my eyes. “Beats me.”

I’m just starting to stroll around the workshop, eyeing a few other serious looking sports bikes, when Hana walks in through the open bay door.

“I was wondering if I’d find you here.” Her mouth twists. “Kenzo just called me. He wants you to be ready to go to some cocktail party thing tonight. He wants to be leaving here by ten-thirty.”

“How lovely,” I deadpan.

Hana smirks. “He’s just….”

“Kenzo,” Takeshi sighs. “He’s just Kenzo. Though I doubt he’d be pissed if we just started calling him Dad.”

Hana snorts a laugh as I grin at them both. “What’s that about?”Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

Takeshi shrugs. “He’s been playing dad to all of us since we were kids. I mean with Hideo not around and Mom…” He frowns and shakes his head, like this is something he doesn’t really want to discuss.

I get it. I’m not a fan of talking about my parents, either. It’s too painful, even now.

He eyes the Kawasaki Ninja bike that I’m standing next to, then drags his gaze to me.

“Do you really ride?”

I nod. “I mean…well enough.”

He glances at Hana, then back to me. “Define well enough.”

“Tak…” his twin says, a warning note in her voice.

“What, I’m just asking.”

I cock a brow. “What do you mean by well enough?”

His manic, wolfish smile widens, like he’s half feral. “I’m asking if you ride well enough to keep up with me.”

“Goddammit,” Hana sighs.

Takeshi grins. “Hana has issues with saying no to a challenge.” His eyes flash dangerously. “Which is why I’m issuing one.”

“You’re an asshole,” Hana grumbles, turning to grin at me before glancing back to her brother. “Fine. What’s the challenge.”

“Race-time, baby.”

Hana frowns. “What, you versus me?”

I can already see the craziness sparking in Takeshi’s eyes before he corrects her. Yeah, a simple race isn’t enough for someone like him.

“Nah,” he grins. “All three of us.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Tak, no. She can’t ride like⁠—”

“Who says I can’t ride?”

Hana turns to shoot me a look. “I’m not asking if you can ride a motorcycle. I’m asking if you can ride one of Tak’s mostly not street-legal crotch-rockets on steroids.”

“That was you in the back of the stolen Bugatti I drove to Canada, right?”

She grins widely. “Fair.”

“Hell yeah, let’s do this,” Takeshi says gleefully, a manic look all over his face. “Here to Kiyamachi Street. Loser buys two rounds at Club Lotus.”

Hana frowns. “Tak, she doesn’t know Kyoto. She has no idea where that is.”

Takeshi strokes his chin. “Okay, let’s do this. You two are on a team versus me. So you can follow Hana. But,” he grunts, turning to his sister, “you both have to beat me to win.”

Hana sucks on her teeth as she turns to me. I shrug, grinning. “I’m game if you are.”

Takeshi throws me a helmet.

“If you were shitting me about your ability to ride earlier, now would be a good time to say so.”

My only answer is to yank the helmet over my head and flick open the visor. “Just so you know, Takeshi. I like my martinis dry with a twist. Vodka.”

Hana hoots as she hands me a set of keys and points to a neon pink, purple and black bike, while she climbs onto an all-white one with a slash of red down the side like a sword cut.

“Just keep as close to me as you can, yeah?”

I nod, my adrenaline thrumming as I climb onto my bike, watching Takeshi settle astride a matte black beast with a golden dragon curling down the side and an engine that looks like it powered a fighter jet in its previous life.

“Let’s fucking go.”

I may have oversold my motorcycle abilities. I mean, I know how to ride, but I haven’t been on one in like five years.

Just the same, when it comes to sink or swim situations, I generally only ever see one option.

…I mean who the hell wants to sit at the bottom of the pool?

Hana and I do end up losing to Takeshi, probably because we both place at least some value on our lives, which he clearly doesn’t. But it’s still close. I buy the drinks at Club Lotus, because I’m sure Hana held back just a little so I wouldn’t be totally lost trying to find our destination.

Two and a half hours later, the three of us pull back into the garage and kill the engines.

Takeshi eyes me coolly as he kicks his stand down and pulls off his helmet. His long dark hair is wild around his face, only adding to that feral vibe he’s got going on. “Not bad,” he nods, sliding off his bike.

“Not bad?” Hana rolls her eyes as she alights. “We were right on your ass the whole way there and back.”

I’m breathless, my face hot and my body tingling from the breakneck ride back to the house. There’s also an energy surging through me that I’m loving: the rush I always get from something and someplace new.

“Have fun?” Takeshi smirks.

“Holy shit!” I gush as I peel off my sweaty helmet, my hair sticking to my forehead. “That was incredible!”

“I’m glad you had such a good time.”

The energy dies instantly as we turn to see Kenzo leaning against the open bay door, his arms folded over his chest. He’s wearing a full suit, his hair nicely slicked back.

My eyes dart to the wall clock.

Shit.

Ten-fifteen.

“Kenzo, we⁠—”

He turns, shooting his sister a withering look.

“C’mon, man. We just had to blow off some steam. You know, shake the dust off after that fucking plane ride⁠—”

“I’ll speak with my wife now,” Kenzo growls. “Alone.”

Hana and Takeshi glance nervously at each other, then at me. I smile back weakly, shrugging like it’s nothing,

Like I’m not absolutely scared of the wrathful, dark way Kenzo’s energy is sucking the very light out of the garage.

When it’s just the two of us, I lift my eyes to his.

“I can get ready fast⁠—”

“Amid all your bitching and moaning about being stuck with me,” he growls, “has it ever once occurred to you that I’m not exactly thrilled to be stuck with you?”

“I—”

“This cocktail party tonight is important, Annika. Maybe not for you personally. But it is for me, and for my future. Which, though it pains me to say it, you’re now a part of.”

Okay, ouch?

“Important people expecting to meet with me are there tonight. People I might be going into business with.”

“So go!” I fire back. “If I’m such a burden to drag around, don’t. Just go without⁠—”

“That’s not what’s expected of⁠—”

“Who cares?”

“I do!!” he roars, making me gasp as he surges into me. “I fucking do. These things matter to me, Annika.”

I wince a little, backing up against the bike behind me.

“Okay, okay,” I mumble, suddenly feeling shitty about all but blowing off the event tonight to go joyriding.

This isn’t Kenzo being a jerk, or bossing me around. He’s right. It’s not just the Yakuza where it would be expected for someone to bring their new bride to an important event like tonight’s. It would be fully expected in the Bratva, too.

He’s not the asshole here.

I am.

“Look, I’m…” I clear my throat. “I’m sorry. I mean it.”

He grunts, still frowning.

“I really can get ready super fast.”

“Let’s find out.”

Kenzo all but drags me after him by the wrist as he storms out of the garage and across the grounds to the main house. I follow him upstairs to our room and into the huge, attached dressing room.

I stumble to a stop and stare at the wall of women’s clothes on one side of the room. I unpacked my two suitcases earlier. The contents took up an eighth of this space. Now, the rest of it is filled with gowns, dresses, skirts, tops, shoes, jackets, and more.

Kenzo walks over to the wall and plucks a garment bag off one of the racks. He turns and hangs it on a hook next to a full-length mirror and unzips it, revealing an extremely revealing but still elegant midnight blue gown with the faintest sparkle of sequins.

It’s floor length. But above the waist, it’s literally just two palm-width strips of fabric that cover the breasts and tie at the back of the neck.

“What is this?” I ask, my lips thin.

“This is what you should have had on an hour ago.”

I glance at him, raising a brow. “You’re joking.”

“I am not. Put it on. Time’s a-wasting.”

“No way!” I balk. “It’s…trashy.”

“It’s Versace,” he says through clenched teeth. “And you’re putting it on, or I’ll do it for you.”

“I’d like to see another option—hey!”

I shiver as he moves in on me, grabbing me firmly and spinning me around. I whimper when he pins me to the wall, one hand clutching a fistful of my hair as the other grabs the back of my leggings. In one yank, he tugs them and my panties down to my knees. My hoodie comes off next, my pulse thudding as he shoves it up over my back and pulls it off my head.

My bra follows. Then my core tightens and my breath catches as he drops to his knees behind me, yanking my leggings and underwear off first one foot and then the other.

He stands, and without warning, his palm spanks me with a sharp crack.

“That’s for being a pain in my ass.”

Fire spreads through my core as he spanks the other cheek.

“And that’s for making us late.”

My pulse jangles as he spins me back to him and cups my jaw. He lifts my chin and slowly lets his gaze rake down over my nudity, then back up to my eyes.

“Put on the fucking dress,” he growls.

Fucking hell. That tone…that accent…that velvety way he demands it… It’s not playing fair.

Kenzo steps back, watching me closely as I take the dress off the hanger and slip it on. I reach back to tie it, but he stops me, turning me around and doing it himself. I shiver as I feel the heat of his fingers brush the nape of my neck.

When he’s done, I look at myself in the mirror.

Oh.

I’m not, generally, a dress girl. But I’ve just changed my opinion on this one.

It’s not trashy.

I look good.

Really, really good.

The fit is perfect. Yes, it shows off a lot of cleavage, even some side-boob if I turn that way. But it’s not in a skanky, overdone and too-revealing way. It’s like…classy sexy.

I twist my hair up into a tight knot, tucking in all the stray bits before I slip the hair tie off my wrist and use it to keep it all up there. I pull one tendril free, letting it hang down the side of my face before I meet his eyes in the mirror.

“Eh?”

Kenzo’s eyes bore into mine, a fire in them I can’t quite decipher.

“Yeah,” he growls. “That works.”

I nod. Then my brow furrows. “I’m not going commando.”

“No, you’re damn well not,” he growls.

He walks over to some of the drawers set into the wall and opens one, revealing an insane collection of sexy, lacy lingerie.

“I have my own underwear, thanks.”

“Your Tuesday everything-else-is-in-the-laundry period panties aren’t going to work with this.”

“I have nice underwear, jerk.”

“Trust me—you don’t.”

He turns, dangling a skimpy little black thong off the end of his finger.

“This is nice underwear.”

I balk. “I am not wearing that.”

Kenzo just smiles.

“I’m not—hey!”

One second we’re standing a foot apart from each other. The next, he’s dropping to one knee in front of me, grabbing my ankle.

“What the hell⁠—”

Kenzo slips the thong over my foot, sliding it up my calf.

“Kenzo—”

He drops that foot and grabs the other one, planting it on his thigh. He grips my calf, sliding the thong onto that leg. I stay frozen as he slides the panties up my legs, pushing my dress with it. My face heats but all I can do is stare, my mouth agape as he pushes the gown all the way up until my bare pussy is right in front of his face.

Heat floods my face. Slowly, Kenzo slides the lacy, sheer panties up until they’re snug against my sex.

“There.”

“I don’t wear thongs.”

“Tonight, you do.”

“I don’t like how they feel.”

“Time to change that.”

He leans closer, his breath hot on my inner thighs. My pulse jumps into the stratosphere as he presses his mouth right against my pussy through the thin fabric. Heat hums against my lips as he groans against me. I can feel his tongue swipe up, dragging through the lace, and my jaw goes slack.

Oh fuck…

Kenzo’s eyes slide up to mine, kneeling in front of me, his mouth still on me. His hand skims up my thigh. His fingers slip under the edge of my panties, and I whimper as he pulls them aside before his mouth moves back into position.

Shit…

I moan, choking on the sound as his tongue drags slowly up my seam, rolling over my clit. His lips fasten around the throbbing nub, and when his tongue dances over it, my legs buckle and I almost fall.

Kenzo doesn’t blink. He doesn’t stop tonguing my clit as he reaches up and pulls my hands down to his hair.

My pulse hammers in my ears as I slide my fingers through his black locks, clinging to him for dear life as he starts to lick me a little faster. His hands skim over my ass, and one slips between my legs. I moan again when I feel his fingers center against my opening. He pushes two up into my pussy, stroking them in and out as he sucks on my clit.

My body ripples before going slack. I choke back a gasping breath, sagging against his mouth as my fingers tighten in his hair. He’s merciless and insistent as his mouth demands the orgasm from my body. I moan when his two fingers sink deep inside me, stroking and curling against my g-spot as his tongue and lips feast on my throbbing clit.

Fucking hell, I’m going to come already.

My face crumples as I moan deeply, shamelessly gripping his hair and pulling him tighter to my pussy.

“Oh my God…”

“My husband works just fine,” Kenzo growls into my folds. “Credit where credit is due, princess. It’s not God making this messy little cunt come. It’s me.”

I gasp as he sinks a third finger into me, stretching me to my limit as he sucks hard on my clit. With a spasm and a wrenching cry, my hips buck forward. My legs almost give out as the orgasm explodes through my core, his other hand sliding up to grip my ass firmly, keeping me pressed to his mouth.

I’m still shaking and my vision is still swimming when he pulls back. He tugs the thong back into place, sending an electric sensation buzzing through my body as the silky lace teases against my sensitive, swollen pussy.

He stands, cupping my chin and leaning into my ear, letting the gown fall back into place.

“The thing about thongs, princess,” he growls. “Is that they fit a bit better when they’re nice and wet. Now,” he purrs darkly, rolling his shoulders as he pulls back from me. He pushes his messed-up hair back, shifting into his customary utterly put-together, utterly ridiculously handsome self as he straightens his tie. “We should be going.”

I nod, barely able to make words as my face pulses with heat. I swallow, still shaking as I turn to walk out of the dressing room.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, princess?”

I stop halfway to the door. When I turn back to him and see what’s in his hands, fresh heat blooms in my face and across my chest.

It’s the toys from the plane: the little black rubber U-shaped one with a gold band around the middle, and the small black butt plug with the gold hilt.

“I—”

He doesn’t say a word. He just raises his hand and crooks two fingers at me.

A tingling sensation ripples through my core as I move toward him in a trance.

“Open your mouth.”

He slips the plug between my lips.

“Keep it there.”

He lifts my gown. I tremble when he slips his fingers into the top of my panties, pulling them away from my glistening sex and slipping the toy down into them. I moan quietly as he curls the toy into me, sinking it against my g-spot with the outside part of it resting against my still-throbbing clit.

He reaches up and slips the second toy from between my wet lips.

“Turn around.”

I do so, willingly, eagerly.

I bite back a whimper as he lifts my gown again. His fingers tug the tiny back strip of the thong aside, and when I feel the rubber plug push against my tight puckered ring, I wince and my breath catches.

“Breathe, princess,” he growls, nipping my ear. “My cock will feel much bigger than this…”

The adrenaline rush of his touch, combined with his dark promise, have my body shivering and pulsing. I whimper as the toy pushes against my tight hole, slowly opening me up. It sinks into me, making my core flutter as I feel my ass tighten again just below the flared base.

“Now we can go,” he growls.