Page 19 of Emperor of Havoc

“Sincere apologies again, Kolya-san,” Sergey says tightly, bowing his head. “He’s…not usually like this.”

I purse my lips as I turn toward Nina. “Maybe I’ll feed him to Furrcules,” I sign.

Furrcules would be my baby. Okay, not a human baby. Furrcules is a one-hundred-pound, adorable, death machine…AKA, a six-month-old tiger cub that I took in five months ago.

Ryu, Papa’s top advisor and one of his bestwaka gashira, found him when he was raiding a Triad-owned warehouse. Furrcules’ mother was being used to guard drugs and, unfortunately, was killed in the ensuing gun battle. But Ryu found the barely weaned little cub and, knowing how much I’ve always loved tigers, brought it home for me.

Is gifting someone a tiger cub a good idea? No. And at some point, there’s going to be no way I can keep my little fuzzball and expect to survive. But until that day comes he’s my little prince and my baby, and I will feed theshitout of Rodion fucking Vorobev to him if the asshole keeps running his mouth like this.

“Katarina,” Rodion blurts, leaning lopsidedly across the table on one elbow. “You and I… We will make a hell of a match. Think of the power our families will have together.”

“I’m thinking more about what an utter disgrace it would be to be seen with you, let alone be married to you,” I sign.

Sergey smiles, turning to Nina. “Ms. Osipova?”

Nina clears her throat. “She says she’s looking forward to getting to know your son?—”

“Please, Kolya,” Sergey says, turning to Papa. “What she truly said. My skin is thick. I will not get offended.”

Papa sighs, arching a brow. “Very well. My daughter said your son is a drunk bastard, and she’d be embarrassed to be seen with him.”

I grin as a silence descends over the table, turning to dip my chin at Papa. He shoots me a look back, but I can see the slight curl of his lips.

“My son does not speak Japanese,” Sergey suddenly says in slow, halting, but mostly understandable Japanese. “So let us switch to that while he sits there like an idiot.” He glances at the rest of us. “I know what my son is, Kolya. I know he’s beneath you and your daughter.However…” A dark smile plays across his mouth as he spreads his arms. “I also know that youneeda man like my son. I know Katarina is perfectly capable of leading but the Yakuza world won’t allow it. I know you need someone to play her husband. So why don’t we stop playing games and tiptoeing around the subject.”

Fuck.

The dining room goes silent again, except for the sound of Rodion's sashimi hitting the plate as it falls from his chopsticks.

But then there's a sharp knock at the door, and I smile when Ryu steps in, his usual gruff expression on his face.

Most people don’t like Ryu. He’s a cold-hearted asshole most of the time, hardly ever smiles, and I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him say anything nice about anyone.

But he and I get alongswimmingly.

He nods stiffly at me as he crosses the room to my father, bowing low.

“Kolya-sama,” he murmurs. “An unexpected visitor requests an audience with you.”

Papa’s brow furrows. “Who?”

Ryu clears his throat. “Takeshi Mori.”

The air in the room instantly changes, tension rippling around the table. Papa sits straighter, his jaw tightening, while Sergey’s face pales visibly. Even Rodion sobers up slightly, lowering his glass and frowning in confusion.

Me? I seered.

Takeshi fucking Mori, the lunatic psycho younger brother of Kenzo Mori,Oyabunof the Mori-kai. Three months ago, the sociopath lit my fucking apartment on firewhile I was in it. I got out, but Furrcules singed his little whiskers, and even hearing Takeshi’s name these days makes me want to stickhisface in a high-rise fire.

What thefuckis he doing here?

“Really,” Papa growls quietly.

“He’s alone, and unarmed,” Ryu murmurs. “But I’ll happily…dispose of him,” he adds, a low, ominous tone to his voice.

My father’s fingers tap the table. “That won’t be necessary. Show him in, Ryu.”

I gape at him. “Seriously?!” I sign.

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