Emperor of Wrath: A Dark Mafia Enemies To Lovers Romance

Even though I’ve been here about a zillion times, I’m always struck by the sheer opulence of Kir’s mansion whenever I step inside. Or even drive through the grand front gates, past the guards that watch as you make your way up the curved white-stone driveway to the massive front door beneath the portico.

I mean, the place is gorgeous.

Kir keeps an apartment in Manhattan, but he’s had this house up in the Bronx for years. It’s an older home that was once owned by the Vanderbilts—yeah, those Vanderbilts—during the Gilded Age, complete with gold inlay everything, white and rose marble, soaring vaulted ceilings, and priceless impressionist and modern art on the walls. The grounds are gorgeous, with roses, fountains and perfectly manicured hedges, and it even boasts an underground garage large enough for Kir’s—and Damian’s—vast collection of classic cars.

I remember almost being put off by the display of wealth at first. I mean, I grew up with money—Taylor and I lived extremely well in Serbia, in a mansion bigger than this one, with sprawling, fairytale grounds—but there’s an added…something to Kir’s estate that gives it an edge.

Maybe it’s the fact that this is only one of seven homes he owns, all equally breathtaking.

For a long time, when I was out on my own, money like that didn’t make you powerful to me; it made you a mark. I also equated wealth with lousy character. The people I’d encountered who had that sort of money were almost always insufferable, arrogant shitheads.

But Kir changed my thoughts on that as he moved from someone I did business with to essentially family. Because he really is different. He came from nothing, bled, fought, and almost died on the streets, and then built an empire from scratch. Now, he’s a literal billionaire who runs one of the most powerful Bratva families on the planet, and even sits at the Iron Table.

There’s no arrogance or shitty character. Just steely resolve and unwavering strength.

And, okay, a little dash of violence. That’s the Bratva for you.

I find him in his office, pacing the room with a scowl on his face and his phone glued to his ear. He catches sight of me but doesn’t smile, just shoots me a look and holds up a finger up before whirling to bark into the phone in Russian.

I used to think it was odd that Kir never married, or even dated. For a while, Freya and I nurtured a pet theory that he was gay but closeted because he had decided that having a boyfriend wasn’t a good look for him as head of a major Bratva family. Which is a stupid idea, but who knows.

As time went on, though, we ditched that theory. It’s not that Kir prefers the company of men. He’s just married to his empire.

A little over forty, the man has the physique of a professional athlete half his age, outrageous good looks, a full head of hair, and piercing blue eyes.

And, for real. The guy needs some female company in his life besides Frey and me. Like, that kind of female company.

I wait until he’s done tearing someone a new one in Russian. When he’s done with the call, he rolls his neck and cracks his knuckles before turning back to me.

“You,” he grunts, as in “Your turn to get chewed out.”

I frown. “What? I wanted to talk to you about this insane idea that I’m moving to fucking Japan⁠—”

“Sit.”

The fuck? Kir never addresses me like this, or commands me.

“Excuse me?”

His Paul Newman blue eyes glint dangerously.

“I said sit, Annika.”

My brow furrows even deeper. There’s something about this tone—at least, this tone being used on me—that’s unnerving.

I walk over and sit on one of the sofas near the large black marble fireplace set into the bookshelves of his office.

Kir remains standing as he leans against the mantel and folds his arms over his broad chest.

“What’s going⁠—”

“You got involved with Ulkan Gacaferi?!”

Oh, fuck me.

I clear my throat. “What? No⁠—”

“Goddammit, Annika,” Kir hisses. “Do not lie to my fucking face.”

I grimace, my shoulders sagging.

“Who told you?”

“You, just now,” he spits.

Double fuck me.

“But I had a hunch before you just confirmed it.”

I grit my teeth and look away. “A hunch, or Isaak had a snoop into my personal business?”

Kir snorts. “The second you and Freya decided to work with that psychopath, you damn well made it my business, too.” He levels a withering look at me and jabs a finger my way. “That was fucking him the other night at Sota’s, wasn’t it?”

I shake my head. “I⁠—”

“I swear to God, Annika, if you lie to my face twice in one day, there will be consequences.”

“I honestly don’t know,” I say miserably. “Truthfully.”

“Full story. Now.”

I take a slow, deep breath.

Here goes nothing.

When I’m done telling Kir about the job we took for Ulkan stealing the Lambo, he stares at me like I’m insane.

I mean, he’s not far off.

“Valon Leka?” he snarls.

I resist the urge to flinch when I hear the actual name spoken aloud.

“You stole from Valon.” He swears viciously in Russian as he whirls and shoves his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, Anni,” he hisses. “You know we’re in talks to go into business with him!”

I look away, my teeth sinking into the flesh inside my mouth.

I decided a long time ago that when the man who hurt me, abused me, and gaslit me went from having a name to being exclusively referred to as “he who shall not be named” by Freya and I, he became a part of my past, buried in a locked box, with the key thrown into the ocean.

Then, not so long ago, Kir casually mentioned—to my horror—that he might be going into business with the fucker.

I could have told him. I should have told him. I could tell him right now, and there’s no doubt in my mind that Kir would immediately go put a bullet in the bastard’s head.

But the man standing in front of me has given me so fucking much: Purpose. Power. A new start in life.

Protection, family and love.

It’s sort of the same as how I keep my messy life separate from Taylor’s tidy one. Kir has built this empire from nothing and been kind enough to bring me and Freya along for the ride.

He doesn’t deserve the chaos I bring with me stemming from my own bad choices.

That’s why I never have, and never will, tell him the truth about my history with that fuck.

“Does he know?”

I flinch at the sound of Kir’s voice.

“Sorry, what?”

“Valon,” he says, totally unaware of the anxiety that name spoken out loud brings me. “Does he know it was you who took the damn car?”

I hate lying to Kir, so I rarely do. Today, I’m making an exception.

“No,” I shake my head. “Not a chance.”

He exhales slowly, his shoulders unclenching with relief. “Good,” he breathes. “Good.”

I clear my throat. “So, Kyoto⁠—”

“You’re going.”

I stare at him. “What??”

“Annika, someone shot at you the other night,” he hisses tightly. “Then a bomb drove into your wedding.”

I swallow. “Look, we both know any violence this early in the treaty with Sota could destroy⁠—”

“You think I give a fuck about the treaty?” he murmurs quietly, his brow furrowing deeply. “Anni, I give a fuck about you.”

He looks at me with genuine pain and concern.

“I’m sending you to Japan because I’m worried sick about you!” he hisses. “You’re family to me, Annika. I will not sit by idly while any harm comes to you.”

I shake my head. “Kir, you have men here in New York. I’m completely⁠—”

“And Kenzo has a fortress and an army,” he growls. “In Kyoto.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

I stare at him. “Kir⁠—”

“This isn’t a discussion, Annika,” he growls.

“Fuck that!” I hiss, lurching to my feet. “I’m not⁠—”

His phone dings loudly, cutting me off. Kir yanks it angrily from his jacket pocket and glares at it.

“Hey! I’m still talking!” I spit at him. “I’m a grown fucking woman, and I am not going to just be sent⁠—”

“Annika.”

Kir’s smiling as he looks up at me from the screen.

“Damian is awake.”

“Fuck me.”

I sigh, grinning as I roll my eyes.

“First of all, I’m flattered, but I just don’t think of you that way?”

The doctors are only letting us in one at a time to see Damian. Kir pulled rank and went in first. Freya and I played rock-paper-scissors for second, and I lost. But here I am, finally seeing him.

He looks…well, like he’s been shot. He’s a little gaunter than usual, having been lying in a hospital bed for a few weeks instead of spending half of each day at the gym. But he still looks like the Damian I love.

Plus, he’s alive.

He grimaces and shoots me a look. “Don’t be gross, Anni.”

I grin. “Well, and I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m a married woman these days.”

A shadow crosses Damian’s face, his lavender eyes darkening.

“I fucking hate that you had to do that because of me.”

I scowl as I punch him playfully in the arm. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Okay, ow?” He rubs his arm. “Remember the part where I got fucking shot?”

“Sorry,” I quip. “I’ll hold back on the punching.”

“Yeah, could you?” he mutters, a small smile on his lips. He exhales and reaches up to run his fingers through his white hair. “Fucking hell. I wake up from one goddamn fight to find you married to Kenzo?”

I smile wryly, looking away.

I refuse to let my mind drift to the events of last night.

Or this morning.

“It’s not your fault, Damian.”

He shakes his head. “I… Fuck, I don’t know, Anni. I mean, Aoki drew first, I’ll say that.”

“Damian—”

“But maybe if I’d just winged him instead of killing him?” He grits his teeth. “Or if I hadn’t even been at the club for that meeting⁠—”

“Damian,” I hiss sharply. “It is what it is, okay? You know me and dwelling on the past.”

He smiles wryly. “What’s done is done.”

“Exactly.”

He grimaces. “I still fucking hate that you had to get married and I wasn’t even there to cause a scene and tell Kenzo to go eat a bag of dicks.”

“No time like the present…”

He chuckles and then winces, bringing his hand to the bandage covering his healing wound on his side.

“So. Kyoto,” he grunts.

I roll my eyes. “Kir’s orders.”

“He’s not wrong, you know,” Damian growls. “I mean he filled me in on all the shit I’ve missed. New York is too fucking hot right now. When you don’t know where your enemy is coming from, or even who the fuck they are, you don’t stand your ground and risk getting shot in the back. You retreat and regroup.”

“That’s not my style.”

He rolls his eyes. “Go to Kyoto, Anni. Seriously. I may not like Kenzo, but I respect him. He’s a prick, but he’s a man of his word. And this truce means as much to him and Sota as it does to us. He won’t let someone take you out and potentially destroy that fragile peace.”

I scowl and look down at my hands.

“But also,” he grunts. “The second they spring me from here, I’m flying to Kyoto so I can keep an eye on the fucker who’s decided to play house with you.”

I grin at him. “For real?”

“Not even a question,” he mutters.

I smile as I reach over and squeeze his hand. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go. But do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Resist your urge to fuck things up and just focus on healing?”

Damian grins. “I think I can do that.”

“Good. If you don’t, I’ll shoot you again myself.”

Later, I stop by Taylor and Drazen’s to talk to my sister about what’s going on.

“You shouldn’t have been there and been put in danger like that⁠—”

“Anni.” Taylor smiles quietly as she takes my hand. “I know you say your life is messy and complicated. But, I mean…” She turns and nods across her and Drazen’s ridiculous palace of an apartment, where her husband is standing on one of the balconies high above Central Park on a business call.

“I married into messy and complicated. And danger.” She turns back to me. “You don’t have to worry about me, ever. With him?” She smiles as she looks at Drazen again with this look of sheer…

Love.

Joy.

Contentment.

A synchronicity with another human that I’ve never felt.

“I’m always safe with him. And,” she eyes me, “I want you to be safe, too. If that means going to Kyoto until things cool down here?” She shrugs. “Then I think you should go enjoy a little well-earned vacation in Japan.”

“It’s just…” My face scrunches up. “I just feel like we only just found each other.”

She smiles as she pulls me close and hugs me tight.

“Me too,” she whispers. “But if it’s all right with you, I’d like to continue having what we only just got back to. And that requires you remaining alive.”

I hug her fiercely. Drazen comes back inside and I hug him, too, and make him promise to keep my twin safer than safe.

Then it’s home to pack.

And then, it’s off into the unknown yet again.