Page 443 of Hate Mates

“We will be epic, Brianna.”

About the Author

Connect with Quinn Slater by visiting their Amazon page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Quinn-Slater/author/B07MK3FTYD?pd_rd_w=rIn3M&content-id=amzn1.sym.78f2affb-7cb9-4034-a202-130468a5a689%3Aamzn1.sym.78f2affb-7cb9-4034-a202-130468a5a689&pd_rd_wg=Dj7l4&pd_rd_r=3e700557-8c9e-4438-ad7a-79eb3fbc1a9d&qid=1743173154&cv_ct_cx=quinn+slater&ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true&ccs_id=edf890ba-3d54-4c20-92ee-7525ad1ac238

Scarlet Blossoms by R.G. Angel

A SYNDICATES PREQUEL NOVELLA

ONE

Ena

“Ena!” Yua’s high-pitched screech cuts through the air, sharp enough to reach the kitchen.

I roll my eyes and bite back a groan. “I can’t catch a break.”

“That’s because you can’t,” the cook quips with a smirk, gesturing toward the door with her ladle. “Go on before she bursts in here.”

With a sigh, I push away from the counter and brace myself. Yua’s tantrums are a part of my daily life as her lady’s maid. She’s groomed to be the perfect queen for a yakuza heir—poised and graceful in public but a tyrant behind closed doors.

I hate the yakuza and everything they represent. Their traditions keep people like me—ahafu, a half-Japanese woman—stuck in positions of servitude. My father, once akyodai, was demoted toanikifor marrying my American mother. The stain of their union follows me everywhere.

I step into Yua’s room, where a mountain of silk, lace, and chiffon sprawls across her bed. “You called, Miss Yua?” My eyes immediately land on the pile—enough for her to wear a new dress every day for six months and still have leftovers.

I’m an employee. I’m paid for this, but to her, I’m a slave. I grit my teeth and take it. She’s my ticket out. Not many people want to hire ahafu, too worried they’ll anger the powerful—the yakuza or whoever else. I’m lucky in a way. I make decent money. Enough to stick it out for a few more months and then leave.

The image of my escape—the US, school, a life far away from this house—keeps me moving, even as I curse her under my breath.

“Yes!” Yua snaps, spinning toward me with her hands on her hips. Her face is flushed, and the sharp, floral scent of her perfume clings to the air. “Where is my blue dress?”

The pile of expensive fabrics on the bed could outfit a small village, but none of it is good enough for Miss Yua.

“The cyan one,” she snaps, her hands on her hips. “The one that makes my skin glow.”

“It’s at the tail?—”

“I need it! The Nishimuras are coming tomorrow. I must look my best.”

Great. More self-important men are coming here.

I know better than to argue with her when she’s like this. I’ve learned my lesson the hard way.

“I can try to pick it up in the morning,” I offer cautiously, “but the seamstress said it would take a few days.”

“I don’t care what she said!” Yua’s voice climbs to a pitch so high I’m sure only dolphins can hear her now. “Tell her I need it now. Pay her extra if you have to.”

I have no love for the type of man she’s about to marry, but part of me wonders if he knows what he’s getting himself into. In public, Yua is demure, poised, the picture-perfect princess. Behind closed doors? She’s a demanding brat. Then again, maybe he deserves her. A match made in heaven—or hell.

I bow my head. “I can go now and ask for it to be ready tomorrow.”

She straightens, pressing her lips together in a thin line. “You don’t ask. You demand.”

A snort escapes me before I can stop it. I try to cover it with a cough, but her narrowed eyes tell me she isn’t fooled. Thankfully, she doesn’t call me out.

“I’ll go right now,” I add quickly.

“No. Put my dresses away first. I have a session with the preceptor, but you can go after and make sure you’re back early tomorrow. We need to be ready before their arrival.”

---