Page 32 of Emperor of Lust

The estate’s garage—and the apartment over it—is his domain. When I enter, I’m hit with the familiar scent of motor oil and metal. Rows of custom bikes fill the space, with a door leading into a larger warehouse-type space filled with classic cars, all lovingly cared for and polished to a mirror finish.

Takeshi is crouched beside the Honda, lost in his work. But he notices when I walk in.

“Yo,” he grunts without looking up. There’s a warmth in his tone that makes me smile. As my twin, he’s always been my closest confidant and knows me better than anyone, and I feel a pang of guilt now for keeping Damian’s intrusion into my life from him.

I linger by the doorway, crossing my arms. “What’s up?”

He glances up, wiping his hands on a rag. “I should be asking you that. You’ve been…” He shrugs. “Off.”

I grin as I shrug. “Just a lot going on with work.”

“Uh-huh,” he replies, eyeing me dubiously. “You do know I can tell when you’re bullshitting me, right?”

I can’t meet his gaze. Takeshi has always been my protector, and if I told him about Damian, he’d handle it, no questions asked. But he’d “handle it” in a way that most places would classify as “murder”.

I force a smile, waving Tak off. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

He watches me for a moment, clearly unconvinced, but then lets it go, turning back to his work with a shake of his head. A knot of anxiety tightens in my stomach. Takeshi would fix everything if I asked him to. So why don’t I?

Because you want Damian to keep lurking in the shadows,a small, unwelcome voice whispers, the restlessness inside me growing.

“Is that psycho bothering you?”

My gaze snaps up to find Tak looking at me intently. “What?”

“You heard me.” He frowns. “Hana, don’t let him freak you out. He’s a weirdo, and it’s obvious his ‘thing’ is throwing people off. I don’t like this situation Kenzo’s put you in. And if the asshole is bothering you?—”

“He’s not.”

It pops out too quickly. Luckily, Tak doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well, if he does…”

I smile. “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Tak grimaces as he turns to nod his chin at thekatanahanging on the wall. “Please do.”

The garage goes quiet for a second.

“Tak…” I shake my head. “You know I love when you play overprotective brother. But…”

I don’t have to make the request out loud. Takeshi knows I don’t want him killing for me.

Not again.

Takand I end up going for a ride around the mountain roads outside Kyoto for a while to get some air. But later, my head still spinning, I head to one of my favorite spots on Earth to try to reset my brain.

The Golden Monkey, probably the coolest jazz bar in the world, is a hidden gem nestled among the back streets of Kyoto, with a sign that glows dimly against the darkened alleyway. It’s an intimate place, timeless, with an air of old-world mystery.

The place has been aroundforever: some of the greats played here back in the proverbial day between gigs at the bigger spots in Tokyo or Osaka. The owner, Daichi, is the second generation of his family to run the place. He’s pushing eighty himself, and his dad was in charge before him.

I’ve been coming here for years, drawn to its smoky atmosphere, its low lighting, and the music—jazz that flows like silk, filling the room with a sound that’s both soothing and alive. Tonight, the band is playing one of my favorite albums straight through:Kind Of Blue, by Miles Davis.

When I walk in, I close my eyes and let the slow, sultry notes of “Blue in Green” wrap around me like a warm blanket. Then I pick my way to one of the small café tables near the stage, sink into a chair, and order a whiskey. When it comes I sip slowly, breathing deeply and letting the music work its magic.

Here, I can forget the weight of my family’s expectations, the tangled mess of my life, and, for a while, even Damian. The soft wails of the trumpet and the steady thrum of the upright bass drift through the room, grounding me.

Jazz has been my escape for longer than I can remember: it’s the perfect mix of structure and chaos and justmakes senseto mewhen nothing else does. It’s a temporary relief, but it’s enough. And this place has always been a refuge, a space where I can just exist without the pressures and dangers of the world weighing down on me.

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