Page 44 of Emperor of Lust

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 looksfaryounger 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 ofsashimi, 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.”

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