Page 82 of Emperor of Lust

I lift an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. We’ve definitely been feeling out our position in Tokyo, but this feels like a huge leap forward. “Oh?”

Miyamoto nods thoughtfully. “The building’s expensive, no question. But I believe it’s worth it. Central location, privacy, strong architecture, a huge underground storage space with truck bays. It has all the features we’d need now and in the future—” He catches himself with a frown and shakes his head. “I don’t know why I keep sayingwe. Force of habit, I suppose. Or this old brain can’t comprehend the fact that I’ll be retiring soon,” he chuckles.

I grin, but then my brow worries. “Are we really at that stage, Kato-san?” I ask, picking my words carefully. “I mean, the Ishida-kai are watching our every move in Tokyo. Kolya isn’t exactly a passive presence here, and the threats have been…constant.”

Miyamoto’s expression softens, and he nods slowly, looking past me as if deep in thought. “Kolya Ishida,” he tsks, his tone disdainful. “I know this will sound ridiculous, given the way he welcomed you to Tokyo…” His brow darkens. “In myown home, at that,” he spits. “But Kolya is more noise than action. He wants us to fear his presence, to think he has control over every inch of this city, but he’s simply throwing his weight around. A power play—nothing more.”

I frown slightly. “You really think that’s all it is?”

He hesitates, his usual confidence wavering. “I do,” he replies after a moment, not sounding entirely convinced. “Though, Hana…” His voice trails off.

I tilt my head, sensing the shift in his tone. “What?”

He clears his throat, looking slightly uncomfortable, which is rare for him. “I need to ask you a delicate question, and I hope you won’t take it the wrong way.”

I nod, signaling him to continue, though his tone has made my curiosity spike.

“I say this out of respect for you and your father, to whom I still feel I owe a great deal.”

I smile. “Of course, Kato-san. What’s on your mind?”

“The alliance between the Mori-kai and the Nikolayev Bratva…” he begins, choosing his words with care. “Just how…concreteis it?”

I bristle. “Very,” I answer, my voice firmer than I feel. I’m not used to anyone questioning the alliance, especially not someone from the inner circle. “I mean, it’s solidified by marriage at this point. Why?”

He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend. It’s just… Kolya’s aggression might have more to do with your alliance with the Bratva than any plans for a Tokyo expansion. He has history with the Bratva. He might be viewing the Russian involvement as a personal vendetta layered on top of the other complications. If that alliance werenotso concrete…”

My jaw tightens. “Are you suggesting we reconsider our alliance with the Nikolayevs?” The words come out colder than usual for me.

Miyamoto looks taken aback for a moment, holding up a hand in a placating gesture. “No, Hana, not at all. I apologize if it sounded that way.” He sighs. “I only mean… If the tension with the Ishida-kai escalates, we may need to take some…creative precautions.”

I nod slowly. “I appreciate the honesty, Kato-san. But as far as I’m concerned, this alliance isn’t going anywhere. The Mori-kai and the Nikolayev Bratva have an agreement that’s as firm as a family bond, and we don’t break those.”

Miyamoto nods, his expression returning to its usual calm. “Understood. I meant no disrespect. Just trying to think as shrewdly as your father would have.”

I let out a quiet sigh, feeling the tension loosen. “It’s fine,” I say. “And you know what?” I smile wryly. “Let’s go ahead and pull the trigger on that building.”

Miyamoto’s eyes light up, a pleased smile spreading across his face. “Yes?” His smile widens. “Excellent news. I’ll get the ball rolling immediately.”

I nod, unable to help smiling myself. “It’s time we started making our mark here properly. Kolya or no Kolya.”

He chuckles. “I couldn’t agree more.”

The rumbleof the engine vibrates through me, a high, steady rhythm as we race through Tokyo. The city lights blur past in neon streaks, glinting off Takeshi’s bike ahead of me. I let myself grin widely and rev the engine, losing myself in the thrill and shaking off the world.

It’s been too long since we rode like this, just my brother and me, two machines slicing through the night. Takeshilivesfor it, the roar of the engine and the wild rush of the wind. I’m not as addicted, but God, it feels good tonight.

The wind tangles my hair under the helmet, snapping me into a sharper sense of being, alive, present. It’s just him and me, our bikes, and Tokyo’s neon flashing by.

No pressures. No games. No ghosts from the past, or Ishida-kai drama.

Just us.

Takeshi speeds up, leaning low over his bike, and I follow, weaving through the late-night traffic like this is our city and everyone else is just a guest.

Ahead, he veers off to the side, pulling into a small roadside stand that glows under a myriad of neon lights. I roll to a stop beside him and shut off the engine. The silence is startling after the constant roar, and I take a second to adjust, watching him pull off his helmet and shaking out his hair.

“Hungry?” he asks, nodding at the food trucks and street food stands.

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