Emperor of Havoc: A Dark Forced Marriage Mafia Romance
Emperor of Havoc: Chapter 8

Hospitals are too quiet. It makes every sound sharper, every breath heavier.

I sit in the hard plastic chair in the waiting room, my foot tapping nervously on the white tile floor as the fluorescent lights buzz overhead. Nina sits beside me, pretending to scroll on her phone, though I know she’s as on edge as I am.

Ryu stands near the wall, hands behind his back, his expression as stoic as ever, though the tension in his jaw gives him away.

Two hours ago, Papa collapsed in the kitchen, writhing in what looked like immeasurable pain, which is obviously when we rushed him to the hospital. He’s sedated now: they say it was most likely the tumor on his spine pinching an especially sensitive nerve or putting pressure on the spinal cord.

I hate seeing my father like this: mortal, fallible, human. Kolya Ishida should not be lying in a hospital bed, pumped full of painkillers because of a tumor eating away at his spine. He’s supposed to be an indestructible force of nature that no man would dare challenge.

But… Here we are.

“The doctors said he’s stabilized, Kat,” Nina murmurs, as if reading my thoughts. Her voice is soft, but I can hear the thread of reassurance in it, trying to calm me down. I don’t respond. I can’t. My mind is too jumbled, filled with what-ifs and maybes. I just stare at the clock on the wall, watching the seconds tick by like drops of water dripping from a leaky faucet.

Ryu clears his throat, breaking the silence. “Kolya-sama is in good hands here, Katarina,” he says, his deep voice steady and deliberate.

I nod numbly, staring at a spot on the pristine white floor.

Ryu coughs delicately. “You still have the engagement party to attend tonight,” he says.

The words land like a punch to the gut and I whip my head up to glare at him. As if my father’s life dangling by a thread isn’t enough, this evening I have to pretend to celebrate my impending marriage to a man who…who…

I don’t even know how to finish that thought, and it seems to be an ongoing issue. Takeshi Mori is a psychopath. The enemy. He’s also the man who chased me, pinned me down and whispered things that ignited a darkness inside me I can’t explain.

I slam my heel against the floor. “I’m not leaving yet,” I sign sharply, my hands moving with practiced speed.

“Katarina—”

“I said no.”

Nina puts a steadying hand on my arm. “Ryu’s right, Kat. Kolya would want you to go. You know that.”

I jerk my arm away, glaring at her. “He’d want me to stay here,” I sign back, stubbornness curling in my gut. “To make sure he’s okay.”

Which is total bullshit. Papa wouldn’t just “want” me to go back and continue with the engagement party as planned. He’d insist on it.

“What happens if you don’t show up tonight?” Ryu counters, his voice like a blade. “The captains will question your commitment. Your father’s empire comes first. Always.”

I grit my teeth, a bitter retort burning on my tongue. I know he’s right.

The empire comes first. Always.

“I’ll stay here and finish up with Dr. Yoon,” Nina adds. “Like they said, there’s a chance your dad will be discharged tonight. I’ll try to get an update and see if that’s still an option, or if they’ll be keeping him.’

I nod numbly, squeezing her hand before turning to her.

“Thank you,” I gesture in a small way.

“Of course,” Nina says quietly. “See you at the house at the party.”

Back at home, my room feels like a prison as I pace the length of it, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps. The gown I’m supposed to wear tonight—white, floor-length, with thin straps and a plunging back—hangs ready in my changing room, mocking me with its delicate silk and detailed embellishments. I’m supposed to put that on, smile for the cameras, and pretend I’m not marrying a monster?

So fucking stupid.

I don’t even know why I’m pacing. Actually, I do: if I sit still, my thoughts will catch up to me, and I’m not ready to deal with them.

I yank my shirt over my head, kick off my jeans, and then lose my bra before I step over to the pearl-white gown and glare daggers at it. The fact that it’s so fancy and showy pisses me off even more, like it’s highlighting how phony this whole thing is.

I’m legit contemplating going downstairs in jeans and a t-shirt when the sound of a door clicking open stops me dead in my tracks.

I spin around, my blood turning to ice and a gasp choking in my throat as Takeshi steps into the changing room like he owns it.

It, and everything in it.

My face explodes with heat. My arms awkwardly cover my breasts, my hips twisting as if to hide my panties from his smug gaze as well.

What the fuck?!

He pauses, leaning casually against the doorframe with that infuriating smirk curling his lips. He’s dressed in all black again—button-down shirt, jacket, slacks—and his dark eyes rake over me like he’s cataloging every inch of skin I haven’t covered yet.

“You could knock,” I sign sharply, grabbing the closest thing I can find—a heeled shoe—and hurling it at him.

Takeshi catches it mid-air, chuckling as he tosses it back. I go to grab it on instinct before I realize that’s exactly why he threw it back and dodge it instead.

Asshole.

“Get out,” I motion testily.

He steps further into the room, his movements deliberate, predatory. “Relax, princess. I’ve seen a woman in panties before.” His lips curl. “And lest we forget, I’ve seen you in far more compromising positions…”

Heat explodes across my face and neck as I turn away from him, still covering my breasts with one arm.

“Go fuck yourself,” I sign coldly.

“Is that an offer?”

Wait. Did he…understand that?

Takeshi grins wickedly at the shock on my face, though he says nothing.

“You know sign language?” I demand, my fingers moving stiffly, too stunned to form the words fluidly.

“Enough to understand you,” he replies with a shrug, coming closer.

I take a step back, my heart pounding. “Stay over there,” I sign, nodding with my chin.

“Or what?” His voice is silk-wrapped steel as he closes the gap, his dark eyes locked with mine. “You’ll scream for help?”

“Fuck you,” I sign angrily, my hands moving fast enough to sting. “Ever heard of consent? As in, what I didn’t give the other night?”

Takeshi’s smirk doesn’t waver. “You’re the one who was looking for a rape-play partner on the internet,” he growls, his voice low. “And I never heard a safe word.”

My face goes hot, fury sparking through me like a live wire. “BECAUSE I CAN’T SPEAK,” I sign furiously, the movements almost sharp enough to cut.

Takeshi’s gaze is unnervingly calm. “Would you have, though?” he murmurs, so close I can feel the heat radiating off him. “If you could?”

My throat tightens and my hands tremble slightly as I hold his gaze, unable to look away. And then, to my horror, my fingers falter. Because I don’t know what the answer is.

Takeshi’s smile darkens, satisfaction flickering in his eyes as he steps back. “Innnteresting,” he murmurs.

“Excuse me?” I sign, glaring at him.

“Ability to voice a safe word aside, you loved what I did to you the other night,” Takeshi says bluntly. “You can’t hide that. I know your dark secrets, princess.”

“Stop calling me that.” I sign the words like a slap.

Takeshi ignores me. “Why can’t you speak?” he asks, his tone suddenly serious.

I give him a hard look. “None of your damn business.”

“You weren’t born that way,” he presses, his voice calm but insistent.

“Says?” I sign.

“Says the picture of you in the school choir in your bedroom.” He smirks faintly, but then his eyes turn dark. “What happened?’

Life happened. Life decided to shock and terrify me by locking me in the dark for a week, where I cried and screamed so much that I lost the ability even to whisper.

“Speaking is overrated,” I sign sarcastically.

“So is consent.”

Takeshi’s eyes drag over me like he can see straight through my skin. “You’re easier to read than you think, princess. You act like you hate me, but part of you… I think you like this.”

I straighten, glaring at him, my hands gesturing before I can stop myself. “Go to hell.”

He grins darkly. “Care to come and keep me company?”

The tension between us stretches, vibrating like a taut wire. Takeshi takes another step forward and I instinctively back into the dresser, my heart pounding. He stops a breath away, close enough that I can feel the heat of him.

“Get the fuck away from me,” I motion.

“Are you always this hostile?” he murmurs, his voice low and taunting.

“Only when assholes barge into my room uninvited,” I sign furiously.

His eyes flash. “And yet you haven’t told me to leave.”

I open my mouth as if to argue but my hands freeze mid-movement, and his smile widens like he’s just won a silent war.

Suddenly Takeshi whirls toward the low, guttural growl behind him, tensing like a predator surprised by something even higher up on the food chain. His gaze drops to where Furrcules is standing in the doorway, all fluff and menace, tiny teeth bared in a warning snarl.

“What the fuck is that?” Takeshi mutters.

I use the fact that he’s distracted to turn and snatch the gown from its hanger and throw it on. I let it fall down my body, covering my nudity before I walk over to my tiger cub. I crouch down and scratch behind his ears, feeling Furrcules relax under my touch before I glance up at a scowling Takeshi.

“A turtle, obviously,” I sign with a sarcastic grin.

“You have a fucking tiger?” Takeshi grunts, his eyes still narrowed as he stares at the animal warily, like it might leap for his throat.

Note to self: see about training Furrcules to do exactly that.

“It’s a baby tiger,” I sign back, adding a mockingly sweet head tilt.

“Baby tigers have a pesky habit of turning into grown-up tigers, who have a pesky habit of eating people,” Takeshi growls.

“What’s the matter?” I sign, my lips curling into a smirk as I rise to my feet. “Scared of a little pussy?”

Takeshi’s head snaps toward me. “You really think you’re amusing, don’t you?” he mutters.

I arch a brow. “Hilarious, actually.”

He shakes his head. “Let’s be clear about one thing, princess.”

I scowl at the nickname, my hands already moving in irritation. “Stop calling me that.”

Takeshi ignores me, stepping closer again. “What? Princess?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not one,” I sign back tersely.

“You’re the daughter of a Yakuza king, you’re kept in a tower, you’re marrying the villain, and you have a fuzzy sidekick. You’re a fucking princess, princess.”

“Well, you’re the farthest thing from Prince Charming,” I fire back.

Takeshi leans in, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly whisper as his smirk sharpens, becomes feral, making the space between us feel too small. “Are you always this much of a brat?”

“Are you always this much of an asshole?”

His chuckle is dark and low as he steps even closer, until I’m forced to tilt up my chin to maintain eye contact. “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to scare me off.”

Before I can respond, he leans down, whispering in my ear.

“Let’s be clear about one thing, princess,” he murmurs. “Prince Charming or not, I’m not here to rescue you from the evil wizard. I’m not here to sweep you off your feet”

His long, strong fingers wrap around my throat and his lips dip to brush against my earlobe, sending a shivering ripple down my spine.

“I’m here to conquer you.”