Emperor of Lust: A Dark Mafia Enemies To Lovers Romance

I step out of the SUV pulled up outside Miyamoto’s sprawling Denenchofu estate in Tokyo’s Ota Ward and glance up at the house.

Damn.

The Katō estate is a modern homage to Himeji Castle, with towering walls, sloping rooftops, and stone walkways flanked by gorgeous sakura trees in full bloom. Lanterns cast a warm glow along the paths and surrounding gardens, and the crisp air carries the faint scent of cherry blossoms.

I’ve done my research on Miyamoto. Yes, he wants to retire, and yes, my father Hideo, did help him when they were younger. But his eagerness to merge his empire with the Mori-kai now isn’t purely to repay the favor.

I glance back up at the opulent house.

Miyamoto likes to spend money, but he’s not so great at making sure he’s got it before he does. The man has debts, both financial and personal, and apparently a lot of those debt-holders are starting to come to collect.

I talked with Kenzo about it before I left Kyoto, and we both agree that Miyamoto is probably genuine when he says moving his empire under the Mori-kai banner is a way of paying back our father’s help all those years ago.

But there’s more to it than that.

Part of the merger is going to involve some money: a big chunk up front from us, plus Miyamoto will still receive a cut from the businesses he started after they become Mori-kai businesses.

Ironically, the financial need behind our host’s decision to merge with our empire makes the deal more secure. If the man didn’t have pressing debts and was trying to sell this as something purely altruistic, I’m not sure I’d trust it for a second.

Behind me, Kai unfolds his large frame from the back of another SUV and instantly lights the cigarette already hanging between his lips. Behind him, another equally large frame emerges—Issak, who’s joining us in Tokyo as Damian’s backup.

The big Russian frowns and shoots Kai a look. “That’s a disgusting habit.”

“I never asked for your opinion on my habits,” Kai mutters back. “And you owe me a pack.”

“You’re lucky the cigarettes are the only thing I threw out the window after you tried to light up next to me,” Isaak rumbles.

Kai rolls his eyes and glances at me.

“Play nice,” I murmur in Japanese.

Kai exhales, then pauses as his eyes land on me.

“What?” I ask, frowning as I look down at myself, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious in this damn gown, which is way more daring than anything I usually wear. “Too much?”

Kai lifts a brow. “I think it’s stunning on you, actually.”

I grin, then jolt when a firm, powerful hand wraps around my hip and yanks me away from Kai. I almost fall into Damian’s broad chest as my gaze rips up to his.

“Yes, Mr. Caveman?” I snap, frowning.

His eyes narrow. “Try to remember who you’re engaged to here.”

I smile icily. “The correct answer, actually, is no one.”

He lifts one brow, his lips curling dangerously. “Careful, Kitsune,” he growls under his breath.

“Of what? You?” I scoff. “Believe me, Damian, you never need to worry if women are being careful around you. Trust me: they all are.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Wasn’t a compliment.”

We all start to head inside—Kai, Issak—who’s still glaring—and an assortment of Mori-kai and Nikolayev men. I start to follow but gasp when Damian’s hand closes tight around my wrist, pulling me back against him.

“You need to stop doing that,” I hiss.

Damian suddenly dips his mouth to my neck. He inhales sharply, as if smelling me. Then his lips part, trailing over my skin in a way that sends electric shivers rippling through my core. His teeth nip at my neck, and when I gasp, his hand slides down my bare back to grip my ass boldly.

“Don’t you dare⁠—”

“The shower games and…later…were fun,” he growls against my neck. “But I think you’ve forgotten, Kitsune, what I hold over you.”

I stiffen as his words slither over me. Damian grins against my neck before he pulls back. His breathtaking, supernaturally violet eyes pierce into me with a darkness that’s as terrifying as it is addictive.

“Still threatening to blackmail me?” I breathe.

Damian’s mouth curls at the edges as his eyes narrow. “Not threatening, Kitsune,” he murmurs. He leans close, cupping my jaw and running his thumb over my bottom lip. “I am blackmailing you.”

Dark, twisted need claws at my core.

“Let’s make sure we’re on the same page. While we’re here in Tokyo, you will be my fiancée, in every definition of the word. Publicly and privately.”

“You can’t⁠—”

“I can,” he murmurs. “So—we’re going to walk in there. You’re going to be on my arm, holding my hand, looking to all the world that you’re mine and mine alone. Flirt with your fucking security guard again, and you’ll find another wrapped present on your bed.”

I glare at him. “Seriously? Flirting? With Kai?”

“I’m considering how all those old Oyabuns and eager, corruptible politicians inside might view it. But also—yes.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, I wasn’t. Are we done?”

His eyes glint as his smile turns cold. “Not quite.”

Without warning, Damian suddenly pulls up the front of my gown and slips his hand underneath. My eyes go wide and my breath catches sharply as I feel his hand against my bare sex.

“Are you insane!?” I hiss, squirming to get away. But he holds me fast with his other hand as the first one…

Holy shit…

At first, I thought he was just trying to touch me. But then I feel something smooth and cool press against my slick opening, and my mouth falls open.

“Damian—”

My words choke, my body throbbing as I feel him push something egg-shaped inside me. It sinks in—wide at first and then narrowing as he lodges it inside of me against my g-spot.

“What the hell is—fuuuck…”

When the buzzing starts, my legs almost give out. I shudder, clinging to his shirt and jacket and sagging against him, my eyes rolling back.

Sweet fucking fuck.

Damian’s fingers tease over my pussy lips, his thumb rolling over my clit as the little toy he’s just slipped into me begins to buzz and vibrate. My toes curl inside my shoes, my legs literally shaking and my throat strangling my breath as my eyes squeeze shut.

“Oh my fucking God…”

“Nope, just batteries and me,” Damian murmurs. “But I could certainly get used to you calling me that.”

“Asshole,” I whimper, still clinging to him for dear life.

“Dirty girl,” he mock-gasps against my ear. “Right here and now? Goodness. Well, if you insist…”

My eyes go wide as his hand slips deeper between my thighs, moving back until I feel the pad of his finger tease against my tight back hole.

“Damian!”

For one brief, horrifying second, I think I’m about to fucking come, right here on the front steps of Miyamoto’s mansion. Instantly, though, the buzzing clicks off. Damian’s hand slips from under my dress, smoothing it down before he pats my hip.

“Mustn’t be late, Kitsune.”

My pulse roars in my ears, my entire body shaking and on edge.

I almost came. I literally almost orgasmed right here.

“You bastard⁠—”

“Uh-uh, Kitsune,” Damian murmurs, capturing my hand as I try to reach under my dress to pull out the damn toy. “That stays right where it is.”

My eyes snap to his, horrified. “No⁠—”

“Yes,” he growls. He takes my hand in his, turning me on still wobbly legs and leading me to the front door. “Now, try to remember how much you fucking love me,’ he smirks as a pair of Miyamoto’s men approach to take us inside.

I bite back a retort, forcing to compose myself for the sake of our audience. The entire evening hinges on the illusion of a harmonious union between our families, sealed by our supposed engagement. I can’t look like I hate Damian right now. But I shouldn’t look like I was just two seconds away from an explosive orgasm, either.

As we walk toward the grand entrance, Damian leans in, his lips brushing lightly against my neck. “How does it feel?” he murmurs.

‘You’re enjoying this far too much,’ I hiss through clenched teeth.

‘Only because you make it so entertaining, Kitsune,” he replies softly, his breath warm on my skin.

We step into the grand dining room, where Miyamoto himself awaits us along with the other guests for the evening.

He beams at us, looking like he probably started happy hour some time ago. He lets go of the arm of the gorgeous woman standing by his side, who looks far younger than him, and approaches us with a big smile.

“Ahh! Welcome, Hana-san, Damian-san,’ he says, bowing deeply. ‘I am honored to have you here.’

‘Thank you for hosting us,’ I reply, returning the bow with practiced elegance.

The dining hall is breathtaking—a seamless blend of traditional Japanese style and understated European opulence. Tatami mats line the floor, while shoji screens artfully divide up the space. Ornate woodwork adorns the walls, and soft lighting casts a golden hue over everything, creating an atmosphere both intimate and grand.

We’re guided to a long table set with immaculate precision. Seated around it are mid-level yakuza bosses, their underlings, and a couple of influential local politicians. Kai sits near the entrance to the room, ever-watchful. Isaak sits right next to him, and my brows knit a little when I catch the two of them muttering at each other under their breath while appearing to look straight ahead.

Great, those two are already bickering like little old ladies.

I push the thought aside as I take my seat beside Damian. I’m acutely aware of the dress and the attention it draws. The fabric clings in all the right places, the deep violet standing out vividly against my pale skin. It might be a far cry from my usual attire, but I can’t deny the surge of confidence it gives me. Damian catches my eye, a smirk on his lips. I look away, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

‘Stealing the air out of the room,’ he whispers.

‘Good,’ I reply curtly. ‘That was the point, right?’

Miyamoto stands at the head of the table, raising his glass in welcome. ‘Thank you all for joining me this evening,’ he begins. ‘Tonight, we celebrate not just an alliance between families but the promise of a prosperous future for all.’

Polite applause follows, glasses clinking softly as toasts are exchanged. The first course is served—delicate plates of sashimi, arranged like works of art. Lighthearted banter and conversation flows around the table, which in many cases I’m sure is covering subtle negotiations being woven beneath the surface.

‘Hana-san,’ Miyamoto addresses me warmly, “I must tell you again what a good man your father was. Bold but wise, and precise in all things. I see much of him in you.’

‘A generous compliment indeed,’ I reply, offering a respectful nod.

As the meal progresses, I find myself fully engaged in discussion with Miyamoto as well as several other Yakuza family heads. We touch on economic strategies, potential alliances, and the shifting landscapes of power within Tokyo, especially the Ishida-kai’s steady rise.

Suddenly, without warning, I feel warm pressure on my thigh. Damian’s hand rests just above my knee, his fingers lightly brushing the fabric of my gown. My posture stiffens, but I keep my gaze firmly on the middle-aged man across from me, refusing to give any indication of discomfort.

Damian’s hand moves slightly higher, his fingers walking up the side of my thigh, tracing small, deliberate circles. A subtle heat blooms under his touch, and I quickly drop my hand beneath the table to shove his away.

Right, as if. Trying to shift his hand off my thigh is like trying to move a building. I wince as his grip tightens, sending a needy, aching throb through my core, making me stutter and completely lose my train of thought mid-sentence.

‘Is everything all right?’ asks one of the politicians I’ve been speaking to, his eyes flickering curiously.

‘Perfectly,’ I assure him with an easy smile. ‘I was just thinking back to your last point.’

When he nods and smiles, sipping his sake and turning to the man next to him, I snap my gaze to Damian.

“Stop it,” I hiss under my breath.

Damian smiles benignly at me as his hand slides a little higher, making my pulse jump.

“Stop what?”

I glare at him. “I swear⁠—”

My entire body shudders as the toy inside me suddenly buzzes to life. I gasp sharply, clinging to the edge of the table as waves of pleasure slam into me.

“Ms. Mori?” Kai frowns as he starts to stand.

“I—”

“She’s fine, Kai,” Damian says authoritatively, smiling dismissively at Kai as his hand slips all the way up my thigh. “Just something down the wrong pipe.” He turns to smirk at me. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

Without warning, his hand cups my bare pussy. The pressure of his hand somehow intensifies the buzzing of the toy inside, and I can feel my head swimming as pleasure pulses through me. Somehow, I force a weak smile as I turn to wave Kai off. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Ms. Mori,” Miyamoto says as he takes a heavy drink from his glass. “I was hoping you might bring to your brother’s attention the opportunity for real estate development in the outer suburbs of Tokyo.”

One of the local politicians—a city planning minister, I think—nods enthusiastically. “Indeed. As the train network continues to expand outward, if one knew where the new stations were being planned, one could buy the land around those potential stations for a fraction of the cost now, before they’re announced.”

I smile. “I think my brother Kenzo would love to have that conversation with you when he comes to visit Tokyo next month⁠—”

I almost fall out of my chair as the buzzing ramps up. The fucking toy pulses and throbs and vibrates insanely against my g-spot, soaking my thighs. Worse, Damian’s cupping my sex, running his fingers up and down my pussy lips and slowly rubbing his thumb over my swollen clit.

“Ms. Mori?” Miyamoto says with concern. “Are you sure⁠—”

“I’m fine,” I grit through clenched teeth. I glance at Damian, my eyes pleading with him to stop.

He has to stop, or I’m going to fucking come right here at the table. And I—I can’t—I⁠—

His thumb presses down. The pressure inside me explodes. And suddenly, as I pretend to cough into my napkin so I can cover my face, I’m fucking coming.

Hard.

The orgasm surges through me, wave after wave, even as I force myself to sit as still as possible, sure I’m going to humiliate myself and scream my release into the whole fucking dining room.

Except suddenly—mercifully—the buzzing stops.

Damian delicately slips his fingers to the little looped handle extending from the toy inside me and tugs. I gasp as I feel it slide wetly out of me.

My entire body is shaking. My thighs are quivering. My nipples are swollen and painfully hard against my gown as I turn to glare pure death at my smug, smiling fake fiancé.

…Who then brings his fingers to his lips and licks them clean, staring me dead in the eye before turning to our host.

“Delicious meal, Katō-san.”

When dinner is over, Miyamoto invites us all into a grand lounge area for drinks and more discussion. As the group moves toward the double doors leading to the lounge, I hang back, frustration and fury twisting inside me. Damian is only a few steps away, and I can’t hold it in any longer. I reach for his arm, yanking him into a quiet corner, my eyes ablaze.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” I snap, glaring daggers at him.

The motherfucker smiles.

“I’m sorry, should I apologize for giving you an orgasm?”

“What you did was beyond inappropriate,” I hiss, struggling to keep my voice quiet as I unleash my fury, clenching my fists. “You made me look weak and distracted, like I’m some clueless fucking girl trying to play with the big boys.” I despise the flicker of vulnerability I feel, the way he’s pushed me into this raw, exposed state.

Damian leans closer, his voice soft yet laced with dark satisfaction. “You looked anything but weak, Kitsune,” he murmurs, his gaze locked on mine with a dangerous intensity that sends a thrill through me despite my anger.

“Do you have any idea how fucking patriarchal the Yakuza is?” I seethe. “How I have to fight just to be invited to a table like that? I need to grind three times as hard to be considered on equal footing with the men in this world,” I continue. “So no, Damian, I’m not going to thank you for fucking with me in the middle of a very important dinner in front of men I need to impress.”

I spin on my heel, hellbent on getting away from him to regain my composure.

It happens so fast I barely have time to choke on the scream.

Just as I step into Miyamoto’s lounge area, a shadow lunges from behind a decorative shoji screen, silver glinting in the dim light. My eyes go wide, a silent scream dying on my lips as the attacker dressed all in black swings a blade down, aiming right for my chest.

A muscled, tattooed hand suddenly shoots out from behind me, grabbing the assailant’s wrist in an iron grip and twisting violently. The man in black screams as Damian shoulders me aside, snapping the intruder’s wrist and hurling the blade to the ground. In one motion, Damian smashes his wine glass against the doorframe and jams the jagged, broken stem into the man’s throat.

Again, and again, and again.

My hands fly to my mouth, eyes bulging in terror as the would-be killer’s screams turn to gurgles and a torrent of blood floods out of him.

The other guests are yelling and scrambling as Damian shoves the jagged wine-glass stem through the attacker’s eye before finally dropping the body to the ground.

My pulse races like a train as he whirls toward me, his violet eyes wild, his silvery hair framing his vicious, gorgeous face flecked with blood. He reaches out as if to cup my face but stops himself just as his fingers brushes my jaw.

His hands are soaked in blood.

“Kitsune—”

A loud crash explodes though the lounge as one of the sliding glass doors to the gardens splinters inward. Four more masked attackers all in black rush in, their katana swords glinting in the low light.

The planning minister I was talking to about scooping up real estate chokes on his own blood as a blade rams into the back of his neck and comes out his mouth. Everything erupts into chaos: I catch sight of Isaak as one of the attackers slashes toward him, leaving a bloody gash across his shoulder. Kai charges forward with a roar, his movements brutally efficient as he takes Isaak’s assailant down to the ground, stomping on the man’s head repeatedly until he goes still.

Damian doesn’t waste a second. He grabs the blade from the fallen first man and charges the others, cutting down two of them as Miyamoto’s guards flood into the room.

Miyamoto himself steps forward, grunting as he grabs the last attacker around the neck, wrestling him to the floor before he pulls out a blade and buries it in the man’s throat.

Damian moves to my side as Miyamoto’s men surround us, blades out, shouting, checking perimeters. One goes to his boss, but Miyamoto just nods and waves him off before kneeling next to the man he just killed. Our host yanks up the attacker’s sleeve to examine the man’s tattoos.

He lifts his eyes to Damian and me, his face grave. “Ishida-kai,” he grunts, disgust and warning in his voice. “It appears your enemies wanted to welcome you to Tokyo personally.”

I nod, struggling to keep my voice steady as my head spins. “Yes…we…” But the room begins to blur, my vision cutting in and out as my knees buckle, and the last thing I feel is the cold floor beneath me before everything fades to black.