Emperor of Wrath: A Dark Mafia Enemies To Lovers Romance

“You’re a terrible husband.”NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

I chuckle, turning to flip Mal off as he shakes his head.

“Nakahara Turo’s wife just stole Annika again.”

“Like I said,” I shrug, “she can handle herself.”

He smirks, eyeing me.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head again, looking away into the crowd.

“Don’t make me choke-hold it out of you.”

He chuckles. “I was just going to say… I like her.”

“Good. She’s going to be around for a while.”

He rolls his eyes. “I meant I like her for you. I like what she does to you.”

“What, drive me crazy?”

“Keep telling yourself that all you want. If you actually believe it, you’re a fucking idiot.”

I smile to myself as I turn back to survey the crowd, sipping my drink.

“So,” I grin, side-eying him. “Is it true what they say?”

“About?”

“Absence making the heart growing fonder?”

He frowns as he turns to me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Like, do you guys text, or FaceTime, or is it a snail-mail kind of thing. I bet she’d think that was very romantic.”

“Kenzo, I have no idea⁠—”

“It’s all good,” I grin. “She’s coming out this way soon. She and Annika were talking yesterday, setting it up.”

His brow furrows. “What in the ever-loving fuck are you⁠—”

Then his eyes narrow on me.

I chuckle. “There’s the light bulb fading on.”

“Freya,” he growls quietly. “You’re talking about Freya.”

“Obviously.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Kenzo,” he growls coldly.

“Really? I think I’m talking about someone’s little crush⁠—”

“Drop. It.”

Whoa. There’s a viciousness on Mal’s face that I rarely see, unless we’re in the middle of a goddamn gunfight.

“The fuck is going on, Mal?”

He slams back the rest of his drink and the anger melts off his face.

“Nothing. I’m going to go get some air.”

I frown, watching him disappear into the crowd.

What the hell was that?

I’m about to go get myself one last drink, but when I see Mrs. Turo and her gaggle of Yakuza wives giggle their way past me—sans Annika—something darker catches my interest.

Fuck the drink.

I’m grinning to myself as I prowl the crowd, looking for her. I had a taste earlier at home, when I made her come on my tongue. But I’ve been savoring the taste of her cunt all fucking night, and now my dick is exceedingly jealous of my mouth.

I think back to our conversation on the plane about free use kinks.

I groan to myself, my eyes stabbing around the club as I picture finding her, taking her to the nearest bathroom, closet, or dark corner, bending her over, and fucking her until she can’t walk straight. Or putting her on her knees and fucking her mouth until I empty my swollen balls down her throat.

I just have to fucking find her first.

I’m headed to the curtained-off hallway that leads to the restrooms to check there when I hear a voice I recognize on the other side of them.

“Get me this deal, puppet.”

Valon fuckhead Leka.

I grit my teeth, stopping to listen to him talk to, I assume, one of his goons—over the phone, since I don’t hear any reply.

“Get me what I want,” he snaps coldly. “Or I’ll tell your new husband what a little whore his wife used to be⁠—”

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

My whole field of vision bleeds red. My world turns to fire.

He’s talking to Annika.

I see nothing but rage and feel nothing but fury surging inside me as I rip the curtain aside and storm forward like Death on his pale horse. Valon’s holding a shaking, terrified, almost catatonic Annika by the wrists. When he sees me, his eyes go wide and he backs away.

“Kenzo, whatever you heard⁠—”

I hit him so hard I feel it all the way down to my fucking feet.

I feel his teeth crunch through his lips under my fist. Leka isn’t a small man, but still he half-falls, half-stumbles back, mewling in pain as I bash his face again.

He doubles over, choking and spitting up blood and vomit before I slam my knee into him as hard as I can, hearing his ribs break. My knee crashes into his face next, splitting his mouth open, sending his head jerking back.

Valon stumbles into the door to the ladies’ room. I crash into him, breathing pure hate and vengeance in his face as we both go splintering through the door and crashing onto the tiled floor.

He’s bleating and sobbing, holding up his hands, begging me to spare him.

I hear nothing. I see nothing expect the unacceptable fact that he’s still breathing.

I drag him by the throat over to one of the stalls, kicking the door open and shoving him forward. I use my foot to stomp his head into the toilet bowl. Then I drop to my knees and grab him by the neck, shoving his face deeper into the water.

I hold him there as his feet and hands kick and flail.

Kick and flail.

And start to slow…

“Kenzo!”

I’m dimly aware that strong arms, maybe belonging to Mal, are trying to drag me away. But it’s Sota’s sharp, cold voice that finally breaks the spell. I turn, blinking, shoving my hair back and reentering reality.

It is Mal trying to pull me off Leka. Sota is standing in the ruined doorway, surrounded by his guards. Behind them all, I see her.

Annika.

She’s got her arms wrapped around herself and she’s ghostly pale, that frozen, catatonic look still on her face. And she’s shaking.

My hands drop from Valon, allowing the shithead to drag himself sputtering and gasping from the toilet.

I don’t say a word when I stand. I don’t look at any of them.

I just storm past them and grab her arm.

“We’re leaving,” I snarl. “Now.”