Page 26 of Emperor of Wrath

“So with Bella…”

“Like I said: I just knew.” He smiles to himself before turning to me and allowing it to grow wider. “Instantly. No hesitation. She was it.”

“But what if you didn’t ‘just know’,” I persist. “What if it wasn’t something that made itself instantly apparent.”

Hideo looks at me curiously, like he’s peering past my walls.

“You’re not asking me about true love. You’re asking me about cohabitation.”

I smile sardonically. “Perhaps.”

“And it is an arranged thing by the Yakuza?”

“For the sake of avoiding a war, yes,” I growl.

“I see,” he nods. “Well, I’ll say this. It always comes down to cohabitation, even if you do have the love of your life. Believe me. Even Bella and I had our moments.”

“And if she’s not so much ‘a true love’ and more ‘the enemy’…” I trail off.

Hideo smirks. “Then make it so she isn’t.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible. She’s nothing I’d have ever picked for myself in a million years. Reckless. Emotional and quick-tempered. Tempestuous. Rude. She cares nothing for traditions, thumbs her nose at any sort of rules. Gives the middle fucking finger to?—”

“Point taken, Kenzo,” my father chuckles quietly. “But I’ll say it again: if you live with the enemy, it’ll poison you both. And you, it would seem, must do this.”

“I do,” I mutter.

My father sighs.

“Kenzo, I don’t approve of the life you’ve chosen. You know that. But I respect you for following through on your decisions, and doing what you must.” He smiles wryly. “Sota has clearly taught you well.”

“I just don’t think this is the sort of man you wanted me to be.”

“What I want is only a suggestion. It’s your life, my son. And this is going to be your wife, forever. Make her into someone you can live with. That’s my advice.”

I lift my glass. “Thank you.”

He lifts his. “Congratulations on your engagement, son. Kanpai.”

“Kanpai.”

6

“Here’s the thing, dickhead,” I growl quietly. “You don’t get to just tap out. You don’t get to leave now and make me and Frey clean this shit up. You got that?”

Damian doesn’t respond: unsurprising, since he’s still in a medically induced coma. But I’m damn sure he can still hear me and gets the message loud and clear.

It’s been a week since the shooting, and he’s apparently doing a lot better. Still in the coma, but that’s so his body can focus on healing. The specialist from Dubai that Kir flew in says that he and his team are going in one more time to remove a few last fragments of bullet that are still dangerously close to Damian’s heart. After that, they say he’s going to be better.

He’d fucking better be.

“Anyway, you’re missing so much drama while you’re napping like a lazy asshole,” I mutter at him, squeezing his hand. “I mean, I’m getting married, and you’re missing so many opportunities for solid A-list jokes at my expense. Let me say that again: I am getting married.”

I’d half expect Damian to wake up at that.

He doesn’t.

“I’m supposed to go wedding dress shopping. But I’m seriously considering just showing up to this stupid fucking thing in a burlap sack. Or maybe a halloween costume just to be hilarious. What do you think?”

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