Page 97 of Emperor of Lust

“Tak,” I say quietly. My face falls, the color draining from it as I look up at him with a pained expression on my face.

“Hana?”

“There’s…more to it than that.”

It all falls out. I’ve never told anyone about the painting, and the money, and constant threats from Josh’s parents. Only Damian, just the other day.

But as the words just fall out of me, I watch my brother’s face rampage through all manner of emotions: pain, anger, sympathy, sadness…until finally it settles on something cold, brutal, and venomous.

“We have to go—” I start, my voice wavering as I fight to control the vortex of emotions.

Takeshi stops me, his hand firm on my shoulder. “No.” His voice is as cold and unyielding as the unnervingly icy expression on his face. “No, this one’s all me.”

“Takeshi—”

“No,” he repeats, his tone steely, and I see a darkness in his eyes that sends a chill down my spine. “Those motherfuckers put you through hell, Hana,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “This has been a long time coming. If Damian’s missing because of them…” His hands clench. “Those bastards are due for a reckoning.”

Every instinct screams to run, to fight, to do anything I can to bring Damian back. But I see the fierce determination in my brother’s eyes, and I know he won’t let me.

Takeshi heads for the door, giving me a hard look over his shoulder. “I’ll get him back, Hana. Don’t worry.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me with nothing but my frantic heartbeat and the crushing weight of helplessness.

29

TAKESHI

Kempton Donahue’syoung secretary bought my story about being a city trash inspector here for a last-minute meeting with the Ambassadorfartoo quickly.

What can I say: I’m charming asfuckwhen I want to be.

Twenty minutes later, she’s sitting me down in the Ambassador’s office with a cappuccino, smiling at me as I grin back at her.

“Thank youso much,Miss…?” I raise a brow.

“Oh!” She blushes. “Just Yuki is fine,” she says through a shy smile.

“Thank you, Yuki-chan,” I grin with a wink.

She turns even pinker and scurries out the door, leaving me to wait for my prey.

The second she’s gone, the charm drops. My darkness seeps back out of the crevices and cracks it slithered into.

Unsmiling, I scan the room, noting exits, entrances, and any surveillance. There’s one camera facing the side door, opposite the one I was escorted in through. It’s simple enough to walk over, keep out of sight of the lens, and reach up to yank out the wire.

I settle back into my chair, sipping Yuki’s not-bad cappuccino as I glance around again.

Kempton Donahue’s office reeks of money, the shelves full of leather-bound books and mementos, with photos of him and any remotely well-known politician you could think of plastering the walls.

The side door opens. He doesn’t see me at first, his nose stuck in a file folder as he strolls in. “Ahh, Mr. Suzuki,” he mumbles, still not looking at me as he walks around behind his desk. “How can I help?—”

He finally glances up. His face drains of color, as if he’s seen a ghost, but then a flicker of rage sparks in his eyes.

Recognition.

“You,” he breathes.

Yeah, he knows exactly who I am and what I’ve done.

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