Emperor of Wrath: A Dark Mafia Enemies To Lovers Romance

It’s been clear from the get-go that Annika and I are…different. Opposites.

At odds.

She’s chaos, and I’m control. She’s fire, I’m ice. She’s fluidity, I’m order.

But the longer we’re together, concrete examples of us being opposites get thrust in my face more and more.

For instance, I hate long flights. Even on a plane as sumptuous as Sota’s, I feel trapped, like my life is on pause while the rest of the world keeps going. Annika, however, seems to enjoy them, at least this one.

She watched movies, took a tour of the facilities, had sake and sushi with Sota in the dining area, and then conducted a business meeting.

My favorite example of our differences so far might be what we find entertaining. For instance, I was happy to watch Annika squirm, bite her lip, grip her seat, and squeeze her mouth and eyes shut as I forced her to orgasm somewhere in the vicinity of four times via the remote control toys, while trapped in her seat due to the turbulence.

Annika, it would seem, was not as amused by that.

Imagining how much less amused she would be to know that the “turbulence” was actually just the pilots fucking around at my request is even more entertaining to me.

Eventually, once we leveled off, Annika basically levitated to the bathroom. She walked out ten minutes later looking furious, flustered and very worn out before she shoved the toys into my hands, wrapped in a wad of paper towels, and told me to “fucking choke on them.”

Yeah, she hasn’t seen the last of those.

We ride in silence as the car winds from the airport through old Kyoto to the mansion I’ve recently taken over.

Until recently, it belonged to the man that I thought had killed my father.

This city has been my home since I was eighteen and came to Japan to discover the Yakuza side of me. Everyone knew who I was—the gaijin that Sota had taken in like a stray. But they didn’t know who I was. That I was heir to the Mori throne, I mean.

That’s how I was able to infiltrate the Ito-kai: a rival Yakuza family led by Orochi Ito and his shit-bag nephew, Takato. Both “men”—I use the word loosely—completely without honor.

When my father tried to leave the world of the Yakuza, it was Orochi who turned on him and made moves to take over my father’s empire before he’d even left. It ended in the car crash that killed Hideo’s wife—Fumi’s mother. I thought the crash had killed Hideo, as well.

Sota alone knew I was Hideo Mori’s son. Meanwhile, Orochi was a stupid, vain man. So when I told him I was “tired of Sota’s leadership” and “looking for a stronger, more powerful oyabun”, the fool bought it hook, line, and sinker and welcomed me to his inner circle.

I spent a year “undercover” in the Ito-kai before the night I cut them off at the knees. Though it was Fumi who ended up dealing the final blow that ended their empire.

Since then, I’ve stepped out of the shadows. I’m still fiercely loyal to Sota, and I always will be. But after that night, the Yakuza world learned that the Mori-kai was on the way back to its former glory.

I took what I wanted from the wreckage of Orochi’s organization: his warehouses, his connections, his politicians, his businesses.

I also took his fucking house.

I turn and watch with smug satisfaction as Annika realizes the stunning home sitting high on the cliffs overlooking Lake Biwa on the outskirts of Kyoto is our destination.

“This is where you live?” she whispers, her brows arching.

The mansion is a mix of contemporary and old-world Japan—soaring balconies, distinctly Japanese kirizuma gabled roofs, lush gardens. But it’s also got walls of contemporary glass windows and all the modern luxuries.

It’s also a fucking fortress.

High walls with electrified fencing at the top surround the grounds, which are patrolled by some of my most elite, highly trained guards. The front gate could hold off an army, and cameras cover almost every square inch of the place. Yet you’d never know most of these security measures and fortifications were in place unless you were looking for them. A person never feels like they’re living in a prison while they’re here.

I fucking love the place. So do my siblings, which is why they live here, too.

God knows it’s big enough.

I allow the smug feeling at Annika’s shocked expression to simmer inside me as I shrug.

“Do you like it?”

She tips her head, not looking at me. “It’s…fine, I guess.”

I roll my eyes.

The guards wave us through the front gates and onto the grounds. The driveway curves up from the lakeside road, winding through gardens, past staggered koi ponds, and under huge Japanese red maples until we get to the house itself.

I step out and smile.

Fuck, it’s good to be home.

Hana is exhausted from the trip, and after giving Annika a hug and me a perfunctory nod, she heads off to the wing of the house she’s sort of claimed as hers. Mal heads to one of the out-buildings on the property that he’s adopted, and Takeshi grunts something about “seeing if the ladies missed him” before he saunters off to the huge garage that houses the car collection I “inherited” from Orochi, as well as a bunch of motorcycles.

Those would be Takeshi’s “ladies”.

An apartment over the garage is where he lives when he’s here, because of course it is.

Sota’s already back at his home in Minami Ward in central Kyoto. So after my siblings take off, it’s just Annika and I standing by the front doors.

She glances my way. Go figure, she hasn’t been able to meet my eyes fully since I made her orgasm four times on the plane.

“What, you don’t have servants or whatever to show us to our rooms?”

I lift a brow. “How elitist of you.”This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

She purses her lips. “I mean I’m surprised you don’t have servants. Or slaves, or whatever.”

“You have quite the low opinion of me, don’t you?”

“I’m sure there’s room for it to go lower, don’t you worry.”

I chuckle to myself as I open the front doors and step inside. Annika follows, and when I glance back, I grin at her failure to hide her stunned expression.

“I’m assuming Sota gave you this place?”

“What makes you think I didn’t buy it myself?”

She eyes me doubtfully. “Did you?”

“No.”

She rolls her eyes and makes her way slowly through the double-height front entryway.

“I stole it, actually.” I grin at her shocked expression, then walk past her into the house. “Hungry?”

She shakes her head, still mostly avoiding my eyes.

It pisses me off. Because it’s not just since I made her come on the plane. It started earlier, in the conference room, when I called her a whore.

The thing is, I wasn’t literally calling her a whore. Not like that. I meant it as in “you’re my little whore.”

“Bad girl” and “slut” seemed to turn her into a fucking puddle when I called her those. But the W word was too much.

Violently so. Alarmingly so.

Tellingly so.

And that’s what’s pissing me off. Not that she’s refusing to look me in the eye. But that there’s something in that word that holds a dark, painful power over her. And I fucking want to know what it is.

“Not hungry at all?”

She shakes her head. “Honestly, I’m just tired.”

“I’ll show you to the bedroom.”

Annika follows me through the house, gawking at the gorgeous views of Lake Biwa. You can even see the ruins of the 16th century Sakamoto Castle.

Upstairs, I lead her to the master suite. Her brow furrows.

“All of this is my bedroom?”

I smile. “Our bedroom.”

Her eyes snap to mine and her jaw sets as her face heats. “Um, what? Hey⁠—!”

My hand reaches up to cup her chin, lifting her defiant eyes to mine.

“You’re still not really grasping this whole ‘marriage’ thing, are you?”

“Oh, I grasp it just fine,” she mutters. “I just like my privacy.”

“What’s mine is yours, princess,” I quip. “In sickness and in health⁠—”

“Try and touch me again, and we’ll get to ‘til death do us part’ sooner than you might like,” she says evenly, an icy smile on her face.

“We’ve already consummated the marriage,” I growl, smiling darkly at her. “I think it’s been well established that what’s yours is emphatically mine.”

“Enjoy the memories,” she mutters, her face dark as she looks away. “Because it’s not happening again.”

“Really,” I smirk.

“Really.”

“All because I called you the wrong bedroom name?”

Something I can’t quite place flashes across her face. Something…supremely complicated. But after it passes, she shoots me one of her trademark defiant looks, saying nothing.

“I’m not a mind-reader, Annika,” I grunt.

“It’s not about that,” she shrugs.

Bullshit.

“It’s about you lacking any respect for my boundaries.”

“I thought I’d made it clear that there’ll be no boundaries between us,” I grunt.

She swallows, and I relish the blush on her face.

“You walked into a meeting I was in and took out your fucking dick!” she spits. “I mean are you kidding me?”

Okay, that’s fair. And I’m about to say as much…before she keeps running her fucking mouth.

“How the fuck would you like it if I walked into one of your business meetings and yanked my pants down and bent over?”

She clearly regrets saying it the nanosecond it flies out of her mouth.

“Okay, that⁠—”

“I’d quite enjoy it, actually,” I grin wolfishly. “And I’m willing to bet you would, too. You’d have my cock fucking that pretty little cunt of yours before your panties even hit the floor.”

Annika’s cheeks turn bright red as she stumbles over her words.

“Y-you’re a pig.”

I grin.

“You also”…the blush on her face turns crimson as she leans closer…“made me orgasm,” she hisses.

“You’re welcome?”

She shoots me a vicious look. “On the plane! In front of your fucking family!”

“Yes, and I was very impressed by your ability to completely shatter for me without anyone else having the slightest⁠—”

“Enough, Kenzo,” she sighs, glaring at me. “It’s been a long day, and I need to sleep.”

I gesture past her to the huge bed. “All yours.”

“Really?” she questions, giving me a significant look. “Or will I be sharing it?”

“Is that an invitation?”

She flushes. “I just said I’m going to be sleeping.”

“Same question, but now I’m even more curious to hear your answer.”

She looks away and her brow worries.

“Are we…” She swallows, and when she turns back to me, her face is full of concern. “Are we safe here?”

“This house is a fortress, and I have a small army guarding it.”

“But I mean, if anyone were to slip by, and get past all your men to the house…”

“They won’t.”

“But if they did,” she insists.

I shake my head. “In the impossible situation where that occurs, this room is also impenetrable.”

“How?”

I walk over to the bedside table and push a button. There’s a click as the wall of windows all lock.

“That’s blast and bullet-proof glass,” I say. “The locks are the same as the ones the US uses in their embassies in hostile countries.”

She chews on her lip. “And the door?”

“It’s got the same lock as the glass.”

Annika raises her worried blue eyes to mine. “Show me?”

“Of course.”

I walk over to the door with her.

“Here.” I point to the lock on the inside knob. “This button locks it, and the panel back near the bedside table will secure it with steel bolt locks around all four sides. You couldn’t blow through with a tank.”

She smiles quietly, relieved, and her eyes lift to mine. “Thank you.”

It takes a lot to catch me off-guard. But when Annika stands up on her tip toes and kisses me softly on the lips?

Add that to the list.

Her lips are soft against mine, and there’s a quiet moan in the back of her throat as her hands go to my chest.

Suddenly, it all goes wrong.

I lose my footing as she leans into me, quickly. I don’t realize I’m being pushed until I step backward, past the door frame.

Shit.

I see Annika’s smug grin for just a second before the door slams and locks in my face.

Goddammit.