Page 82 of Unforgiving Queen
AMON
Weeks had gone by since I’d seen her. Three and a half since the wedding announcement. A week and a half since I threatened to make her a widow. I was willing to tolerate anything but her marrying my brother.
It would happen over my goddamned dead body.
Did I understand that the woman was my sister? Abso-fucking-lutely. That didn’t stop me from seeing her as the sole subject of my fucked-up desire. I abandoned all efforts of searching for another woman to fuck. My pent-up frustration had officially reached new heights.
So naturally, I’d been sabotaging the wedding plans from every angle. Venue canceled. Announcements butchered. Invitations intercepted. The wedding dress—fucking torched.
The complex feelings I had for her refused to be erased. Now, I was on another fucking continent, so I wouldn’t risk doing anything stupid. Hopefully the shit I had to take care of for the Yakuza in Japan would clear my mind, however briefly. After a grueling few days of inspecting my warehouses and shipments coming from Canada and Colombia, I stopped at one of my luxury hotels in Tokyo.
I stood in the small boutique and stared at Reina’s designs hanging off the racks, imagining her beaming like a ray of sunshine at all the customers who passed through. I watched as one admired them, suppressing my smile. Her clothes were the fastest-selling products in every one of my stores—not the Patek Phillipe watches, not the Tiffany jewelry, not the Berluti leather goods.
They were a reflection of her, an extension of her. Her creativity shined through the cheerful colors and intricate patterns that made up her designs. Every hotel I owned carried her brand. It was my small way of helping her kick-start her career in Asia.
My phone beeped and I lowered my gaze to it. I frowned, seeing that the message was from Illias Konstantin, requesting a meeting.
I wasn’t in the mood for anyone’s shit, including the Pakhan who now owed me several favors for protecting his new bride, Tatiana Nikolaev.
As if the universe were deciding to fuck with me, I noticed some commotion by the lobby. There stood my cousin and his entourage, wobbling down the luxurious quartz floors ofmyhotel.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” was my greeting to Itsuki.
My outburst was something he was unused to seeing from me, particularly in one of my legitimate establishments. He and his men froze for a moment before they got themselves together.
“It’s about the cartels—” Itsuki started.
I growled, effectively cutting him off. “It better not be the Brazilians.” I took a step forward, towering over him. “And you better not be making any deals with them.”
My relationship with my cousin had evolved in recent years. Yes, theoretically I was his right-hand man, but the power had shifted between us. He had even less of it now that he continuously failed to deliver results to the Yakuza—something I may have had a direct influence on.
Bottom line, his own organization had started to see him as a problem, so I swooped in at the perfect time. When he was most vulnerable.
“Don’t worry, boss. We didn’t meet with them.” This came from Itsuki’s fifth man in command. Or was it sixth? No matter, based on the glare my cousin just shot him, he’d soon be history too.
“He’s not the boss,” my cousin snapped. Color me surprised to hear my cousin had been stirring shit again. It was the only thing he was good at. “I hear Romero’s daughter and your brother are to be married.”
He attempted to stand straighter, legs shoulder width apart. I truly believed he practiced various stances in front of the mirror. It was obvious his eyes didn’t work well though, because he failed to see how stupid he looked.
“Is there an actual reason you are here, Itsuki, or are you just wasting my time?” I said while making a mental note to check Perez Cortes and his men’s movements. He rarely left Brazil, usually sending his minions to do his bidding. He’d been mostly quiet over the last three years, although that could have been strategic.
The Yakuza still dealt in flesh peddling—much to my and Dante’s dismay—but there were also weapon and drug dealings. Human trafficking and drugs were the only thing he had in common with the cartel. I limited my illegal business to weapons and drugs, and laundering that income through my legal venues like casinos and hotels.
“I need to know why your brother would want your leftovers.” Itsuki was clearly in a pissy mood. “She and her sister are sought after by the cartels. The only reason I supported the 'hands off’ rule was because you claimed she was yours.”
So my gut was right, the fucker wanted open season on Romero’s daughters.
“Don’t worry about Romero’s daughters,” I deadpanned. “Or it might be the last thing you do on this earth.”
“They’re worth millions!”Nothing new. Except, something nagged at me. The cartel was never focused on a single person as much as they were on Reina. I’d always had a feeling there was more than met the eye when it came to Romero and his girls. I just couldn’t figure out what.
I made a mental note to open that file back up with my security team when I was back in Europe. Until then, I’d have to keep my poker face.
“Excuse me. I have more real work to do than gossiping with you.” I narrowed my eyes on him in warning. “Don’t. Touch. Them. If I hear you’re working a deal that involves them, you won’t like what’s coming next.”
As I turned my back to him and strode away, my phone buzzed again with another message from Konstantin. I checked it and it didn’t surprise me he was cashing in on his debt.
You’ll want to hear what I have to say.
