Emperor of Wrath: A Dark Mafia Enemies To Lovers Romance

Where the FUCK is she.

I glare angrily at my watch as I pace the sidewalk outside the church in Brooklyn—the venue for this evening’s fucking wedding.

At least, it’s supposed to be. Except this shitshow is due to start in half an hour and no one’s seen or heard from my blushing bride-to-be in almost twenty-four hours.

Or my sister, for that matter.

I can easily see Annika going AWOL on purpose, just to give me and this entire situation the finger like the petulant child she is. But it’s not like my sister to go radio silent like this.

Black thoughts circle and swirl through my head.

It’s been two weeks since the shooting on the roof of Sota’s building. He and Kir have agreed that there’s no telling who might have sent the guy. They’re both powerful men with lots of enemies. Given the fact that the shooter was a clear pro, with his fingerprints burned off and no dental records…yeah. Could have been anyone.

Yet I can’t shake one little detail from that night that I’ve kept to myself: the laser dot was on Annika. And an assassin of that caliber doesn’t aim at the wrong person or let his scope wander.

Yes, killing Annika could have been an attempt to hurt me, but I was right there. So was Sota and the rest of my family. And it’s obvious Annika is a new addition and clearly not someone I’m in a real relationship with. If they wanted to hurt me, shooting Hana or Sota would have done far more damage.

So why the fuck was he aiming at her?

I glance at my watch yet again.

And where the ever-loving fuck is she?

I’ve had teams of people combing the city since this morning, looking for Hana. I even contacted a high-end hacker I know to try and trace her phone to its last known cell-tower ping, since it’s clearly turned off. And I know Kir’s had people looking for Annika and Freya, though when I touched base with him two hours ago, he didn’t seem all that concerned.

Yeah, because he’s dealt with her bullshit for years. Or maybe he just has the patience for it. I sure as fuck don’t.

The church door opens behind me. I glance back to see Takeshi walking out and loosening his tie.

“So,” he grunts. “When are we calling this?”

“We’re not,” I shoot back.

“Well, if this thing drags out any longer, people are going to start asking awkward questions.” He jerks a thumb back over his shoulder at the church. “Not gonna lie, bro. It’s already tense in there. Our guys are mean-eying Kir’s guys, and vice versa. If the word starts to get around that your dear wifey is a no-show, shit’s going to hit the fan.”

Obviously, we’ve only told a select few that Annika’s missing. But Tak is right. This whole thing is a fucking powder keg, and every minute she doesn’t show up is basically her chucking lit matches at it.

“She’s the one that pushed for a nighttime ceremony, yeah?”

I nod. “It’s for Freya. She’s got this skin thing with sunlight.”

Takeshi snorts. “Wait. Seriously?”

I nod.

“So it’s not just a goth thing?”

“Guess not.”Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

I don’t know why him reminding me of that little tidbit annoys me even more. Annika did push to have the wedding after dark so that Freya could attend comfortably without dressing in a space suit or anything.

Maybe because it proves that Annika’s not just a spoiled Bratva princess with a perpetually raised middle finger. She’s compassionate, too. Which means she’s made a conscious decision to go MIA the day of our goddamn wedding. She’s chosen to let me pace in front of the church like a pathetic dickhead about to get stood up for prom.

She’s not here yet, half an hour before our fucking wedding, because she wants me to think she’s skipped out. She wants me to worry.

Because that’s Annika’s style: she does what she wants, fuck the world, and let everyone else deal with the wreckage and the consequences.

Well, there will be consequences for this.

Consequences like putting her over my knee and spanking that bratty attitude right out of her.

I scowl as that particularly dick-twitching thought enters my head. Then I shove it back down.

Get your shit together.

“Kenzo.”

I glance at Tak, and then follow his gaze to where the black SUV with an Uber sticker is pulling up to the curb. The back door opens, and my eyes pull to slits as an extremely disheveled Hana slides out, obviously still in the “going out” clothes from the night before.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Takeshi mutters, voicing the words I don’t even trust myself to say out loud.

I storm over and grab my sister by the bicep.

“What the fuck?!” I snap.

She scowls back at me. It’s rare that my sister doesn’t look completely put together without a hair out of place. Right now, she literally looks like she slept in the damn Uber.

I drag her away from the car, looming over her and glaring down into her face. “Are you fucking serious right now?! Where—” I close my eyes, sucking in air through my nose to try and calm the sirens in my head.

Just as my pulse is about to creep down from thermonuclear levels, it spikes again as someone else slides their bedraggled ass out of the SUV, some dress bags over her arm.

Annika.

“Get the fuck inside,” I snap coldly at Hana. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Hana gives me a sheepish look, grabs the dress bags from Annika, and scurries into the church. Just as I turn to read my bride the riot act, Tak beats me to it.

“Where the fuck did you take my fucking sister!?” he roars in Annika’s face. She backs away from him against the side of the SUV as he cages her in with his hands against the windows on either side of her. Suddenly, he reaches out and grabs her arm roughly. “You fucking bitch⁠—”

“That’s enough!”

Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’ve crossed the distance between us, grabbed my brother by the back of his collar, and yanked him away from her. Takeshi goes stumbling backward, almost falling onto his ass on the sidewalk.

He shoots me a dark glance, but before he can chew me out for getting on his ass instead of Annika’s, I march over to him and jam a finger in his face.

“Don’t you ever lay a hand on her again. Understood?”

Takeshi’s eyes bulge in disbelief. A vein on his forehead starts throbbing as pure violence churns through him like diesel in an engine.

“I said,” I snarl. “Is that fucking understood, Takeshi.”

He grinds his teeth, but nods.

“Fine…fuck,” he growls. His eyes swivel past me to Freya getting out of the car. “What about this little psycho.”

“Oh, she’s fair game,” I grunt. “Do your worst⁠—”

“You lay a finger on her, and I’ll fucking cut it off.”

My brow furrows darkly as I turn. Annika is glaring daggers at me as the SUV behind her wisely gets the fuck out of Dodge.

“What did you say?”

“I said if you touch her,” she hisses, indicating Freya, “I’ll cut your fucking finger off.” She clears her throat. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have this bullshit wedding to star in?”

She and Freya march past us, and I sure as shit don’t miss the smug little looks on their faces.

“Are you seriously going to let her talk to you like⁠—”

“Why don’t you let me worry about how my wife speaks to me, Tak,” I growl at him. “Get inside. Get everyone ready. Tell Kir his little fucking princess has deigned to make an appearance at her own party.”

“Can I say it like that?”

“Write it on his face in fucking Sharpie for all I care,” I mutter, stalking off in Annika’s and Freya’s direction.

Inside the church, an usher smiles weakly at me and points me in the direction of a small room at the back of the church. I pause for a second to try and talk myself down from “livid” to just plain “furious” as I pause outside the door.

Then I’m barging in.

Annika startles a little, glancing up at me from where she’s plugging in her phone next to a table laden with makeup, hair products, and roses. One of the dress bags is hanging from a hook on the wall.

“Where the hell have you been?!” I snap coldly, slamming the door shut.

Annika gives me an infuriatingly cheeky grin. “Miss me?”

The smug smile drops in a heartbeat when I surge across the room into her, forcing her against the wall behind her.

“Is this a game to you? A fucking joke?”

She swallows and slips past me, walking over to the table and picking up a bottle of water. “Not a game,” she shrugs, cracking the bottle and chugging half of it before shoving her hair back from her face. “A joke?” She shrugs again. “I mean, yeah, kind of⁠—”

She gasps sharply as I grab her wrist, knocking the water bottle from her hand as I yank her back to me, spin her around, and slam her against the wall, looming over her. All the sass and color fades from her face as she stares up at me.

“Um, excuse me?”

Her hair is a mess. Her makeup from the night before is smudged and faded. There are bags under her eyes, and I’m pretty sure I can still smell the alcohol on her.

But Jesus Christ she’s hot.

It’s inexplicable and undefinable, and way more than just looks, too. It’s like there’s a power radiating off her. Maybe pheromones or some shit. Or… Who knows.

Regardless, my pulse is racing from more than just anger. My skin is throbbing, as if the few inches between us is too great a distance.

It’s making my dick hard as fucking steel, too.

“What’s the matter, Kenzo?” she purrs, batting her eyes exaggeratedly. “Were you worried?”

“I’m going to take the bait and say yes.”

She makes a puppy-dog face. “Awww, how⁠—”

“Not for you, princess,” I growl. “For my sister. For what today means to a lot of other people besides fucking you.”

She exhales slowly, looking away as she tries to smooth her gingery red hair.

“We…got carried away last night.”

“Where the fuck were you? We’ve had people looking all over the city since last night.”

She winces. “Our phones died.”

“Where. Were. You.”

Her full bottom lip retreats between her teeth.

“Goddammit, Annika, I am not in the mood. Where⁠—”

“Montreal.”

At first, I’m sure I misheard her. But as the silence lengthens and the heat spreads over her cheeks, I realize I did not.

I stare at her. “I’m not sure I was clear about the not joking⁠—”

“I’m…” She swallows. “Not joking.”

“Excuse me??”

“There may have been a…misunderstanding.”

“With?”

She smiles weakly. “The cops?”

My jaw drops. “ABOUT?!”

“A car.”

She flashes another sheepish smile as the steam curls out of my fucking ears.

“Whose fucking car?!”

That fucking sheepish grin comes out to play again, and my teeth grind.

“You’re fucking joking,” I hiss. “You stole a fucking car, with my sister, and drove to fucking Canada?!”

Annika winces. “I know it looks bad⁠—”

“NO. SHIT.”

She shivers as I roar.

“The plan wasn’t Canada, it was just⁠—”

She whimpers as I grab her jaw.

“Please,” I snarl quietly. “Don’t omit a single fun little detail.”

Annika shivers. “The cops were following us, and⁠—”

“Chasing,” I snap. “They were chasing you.”

“Okay, okay.” She looks away. “Yes, the cops were chasing us. But, it’s not like it’s my first time being chased by the⁠—”

“For my fucking sister it was.”

“Well,” Annika attempts a grin. “Thanks to me, she’s not in jail?”

“She was only in that mess to begin with thanks to you!” I roar. “CANADA?! Are you fucking serious?!”

“Well, once we were out of the city, there were State Troopers on the highway, and they started following⁠—”

“Chasing!”

“FINE!” she yells back. “They were chasing us too, and to get out of all of that, we went up I-87. We lost them—you’re welcome—but then realized we were only like two hours from the border.”

I stare at the woman to whom I’m about to commit my life in awe and terror.

She’s insane. She’s legitimately fucking insane.

“So you made the logical decision to go to fucking Montreal? What, were your drunk asses craving poutine?”

“Is…that a trick question?

My face turns crimson as she shrugs.

“I mean… It was my bachelorette party.”

I shake my head. “Whose idea was this?”

“Mine,” she blurts, just a bit too quickly.

I’ll find you in a fucking second, Hana.

“Now,” Annika mutters, shooting me a dirty look. “If this interrogation is over⁠—”

My eyes widen. “You actually think this is the end of this?” I scoff, shaking my head. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“You don’t have to marry me, you know.”

“Unfortunately,” I grunt. “We both know I do. But make no mistake…”

I relish the way Annika gasps as I surge into her, grabbing her by the chin again and leering down into her face.

“Marrying you doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten this, or it just goes away.”

She rolls her eyes. “What are you going to do? Punish me?”

The second she says it, the room goes quiet. Because for some bizarre reason, that seemingly innocent little phrase “punish me” doesn’t feel quite so innocent when it’s hovering between us, alone in a room together, with our pulses racing.

Fuck me.

My cock twitches as soon as she says it. And within seconds, I’m tenting the front of my slacks.

I picture her on her knees, tits and tongue out, thighs spread. Maybe a plug in her ass and a collar around her throat as she looks up at me and begs for it.

Please punish me, sir?

I grit my teeth, willing my cock to calm the fuck down as I shake those intoxicating thoughts away.

“Get ready,” I mutter coldly. “We don’t have much time.”

“Well, you’re the one keeping me.”

Forty seconds later, I’m barging in on Hana in another little room just as she’s struggling to zip up the back of her dress.

“Hey, hi, have we heard of knocking?” she mutters. She shoots me a look in the mirror in front of her. “Actually, can you get this?”

I nod, storming over and yanking the zipper up the rest of the way.

“Thanks,” she mumbles.

Our eyes meet in the mirror. Outside may have been a rare moment of Hana looking disheveled. But it’s taken her no time at all to morph back into her customary utterly put together self. Her makeup is flawless. Her hair is combed out to its usual thick, glossy straightness, the blonde streaks perfect and neatly in place.

“What the fuck, Hana,” I growl at my sister.

“I’m not really in the mood, Kenzo,” she sighs, futzing with her hair in the mirror as I glare at her.

“That fucking woman,” I snarl, jabbing a finger at nowhere in particular, “is⁠—”

“About to be your wife, brother,” Hana says dryly.

I roll my eyes. “Well, she’s trouble.”

My sister snorts. “Sure is.” She laughs to herself as she reapplies lipstick. “But, I gotta say, she kept up.”

My brow furrows. “With?”

“With me,” Hana shrugs. “She’s cool. I like her.”

“Because she took you to fucking Canada?”

She frowns. “No. Because she wouldn’t back down no matter how far I pushed things. And she didn’t ‘take me to Canada’,” she shrugs. “That was my idea. Fuck, I never thought she’d actually do it.”

I turn to stare at her, thunderstruck. “You stole a car⁠—”

“Technically, your fiancée stole a car.”

“What in God’s name would possess her to do that at her bachelorette party?”

Hana grins sheepishly.

“What, Hana,” I grunt.

“Because… I dared her to?”

I groan. “Fucking hell.”

“Please,” my sister sighs. “What are we, clergy? You do realize you’re about to be a king, right, Kenzo? I mean, live a little.”

“There’s living a little, and then there’s recklessness. Learn the difference, Hana.”

“Oh, like going after a woman for years just because she stole a necklace from you?”

My eyes narrow. “You know what that necklace⁠—”

“You’ve got a lot of Mom’s things, Kenzo,” she says tersely. “I do, too. So I’m wondering if it was the necklace, the girl, or the fact that someone beat you that had you all angry and riled up for five fucking years.”

My brows knit. I don’t actually know how to answer that. For the millionth time, I’m reminded how smart my younger sister is.

“Better get ready, Kenzo,” Hana says quietly. “It’s almost showtime.”

From my place standing by the altar, my eyes scan the crowd as the string quartet begins to play. I nod to Sota, who nods back. My father isn’t here, but that’s okay. I saw him last night, and we shared food and a couple of drinks, and he talked to me about married life and being a man and all that.

He doesn’t need to be here for the actual ceremony. Especially since he’s long since left the mafia world.

Takeshi gives me a thumbs up, and Mal next to him gives me a firm nod. A few rows back, I can see Drazen Krylov settling into his seat next to Annika’s twin sister, Taylor. Fumi, my half-sister, is another one who couldn’t be here today. She called me earlier to congratulate me, of course, but the First Lady of New York State can’t exactly be seen attending mafia weddings. I get it.

The doors at the back of the church open. Everyone turns to watch Kir walk Annika down the aisle.

And my heart stops.

Not because this is suddenly all so very, very real. Not because I’m about to chain myself to a batshit crazy little fucking thief.

No. My heart stills for a moment because when she walks in, all I can see is how fucking beautiful she looks.

I mean…fuck.

I half-expected her to walk down the aisle in a Halloween costume, just to fuck with me. But here she is in floor-length white satin and tulle, with pearls sewn into elaborate little floral designs up one side, and dainty leaves made of silky lace scattered across the deep neckline and plunging back.

Christ, she looks incredible.

Kir has to cough to yank my attention back when they reach me at the altar. He puts her hand in mine, and then gives me a hard look as he leans close.

“This woman is a daughter to me,” he says so quietly that only I can hear. “And I already have a bullet with your name quite literally on it. If you hurt her…”

“I won’t.”

“I’ll be making sure.”

He pats my forearm before he turns to kiss Annika on the cheek.

I won’t lie: even that gets my blood heated and my teeth grinding in ways I’m not quite ready to dissect just yet.

Annika and I face each other as the priest says the words. I slip a ring onto her finger, and she does the same to me before we utter our vows.

“And now, by the power vested in me by God and the State of New York, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Annika half turns to smile at the assembled guests and the cameras, already moving as if she’s about to walk back up the aisle.

I can’t honestly say what makes me do it. Tradition, maybe. Sticking to the script, or “selling” this to anyone present who’s too stupid to understand that this marriage is a peace treaty, not a declaration of love.

Whatever the reason, I’m moving before I realize it. In one motion, I’ve grabbed Annika around the waist, turned her around with a gasp on her lips, and yanked her against my body.

Her brows furrow in confusion as she looks up at me.

“What the fuck are you⁠—”

“This.”

My mouth slams to hers. Our lips sear together as my hand cups her jaw and draws her in. My tongue dives into her mouth and captures hers.

And everything around us just…fades.

Just as I’m about to try and stop myself, or at least decide what the fuck just came over me, an ear-splitting crash explodes through the church.

We whirl along with the rest of the crowd, and then I’m roaring and jumping in front of Annika as the van comes crashing through the doors of the church in a hail of splintered wood. Guests and their guards lurch out of the way and screams fill the air as the van plows into two pews and then whines to a stop, smoke billowing from its wrecked front grill and its windshield spiderwebbed.

“MAL!” I roar. He, and Tak, and a bunch of our guys are already whipping guns out and approaching the sides of the van. Kir’s men are doing the same. I glance over and spot Drazen keeping Taylor behind him, his gun drawn as they back away toward a side door, surrounded by his guards.

I turn to Hana, but she’s already with Sota and his guys, also moving toward the side door.

“OUT OF THE VAN!” Mal roars. “Now!!”

When there’s no response, he edges closer. The whole fucking church is on edge, like we’re teetering on our toes on the precipice of a cliff.

“OUT!” Mal doesn’t hesitate this time. He charges the driver’s side door, yanking it open and jamming his gun inside. I see the wild look on his face before he even turns back to me. “It’s empty!”

Oh fuck.

“GET BACK!” I roar, shoving Annika back toward the door leading to the vestry and then running to the van as the whole damn church descends into chaos. “GET BACK! Mal! Get the fuck away from⁠—”

The air turns to fire as I’m punched backward off my feet from the force of the car bomb that shatters the night.