Poisonous Kiss: A Dark Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance
Poisonous Kiss: Chapter 32

“You can’t do this.”

“Shut up.”

I wince as Takato yanks me after him through the torii gate and up the stone steps to the shrine. The pair of armed men we drove up the mountain with follow us.

The last day has been a nightmare. I remember the floor dropping out from under me when I came face to face with the hard reality about what Gabriel is. I remember running from him, my heart breaking into a hundred pieces.

I remember going home, and then realizing I couldn’t be there at all and going for a walk.

Then there’s the shuddering flashback of the black van roaring up next to me. Of hands in black gloves grabbing me and yanking me into the darkness before putting a bag over my head and driving away.

Seventeen hours on a plane later, it was Takato who smiled darkly at me as he yanked that bag off me.

And now my fate is sealed, no matter how much I protest. No matter how much I scream that I’m already married, and he can’t do this.

He can, and he will.

In a legal sense, no; Takato can’t invalidate my marriage to Gabriel. But in the eyes of the Yakuza, he absolutely can. Something cruel and cold snarls inside of me as I flash back to a few hours ago, when I finally met Orochi Ito face-to-face.

The man who had my mother killed.

The man who laughed when I tried to lunge at him, as if to tear him apart with my bare hands. The man who told me exactly how this is all going to go down.

The clans here are excruciatingly old school. To them, honor and power are more important than following the law. To the other oyabun, I’m the heir to the Mori-kai throne and my marriage to Gabriel has no meaning. Not back here in Japan, when Takato tells them it was a marriage for money and to a gaijin who isn’t even part of the Yakuza.

My relationship with Gabriel means less than nothing in this world. So, legally binding or not, when Orochi forces me to marry his nephew, it’ll be for keeps. An empire hangs in the balance and these people are not letting something as insignificant as US marriage laws stand in the way of that.

The shrine we’re at is three hundred years old, built high on a ridge looking down over Kyoto. Under any other circumstance, it would be incredible to look down at the place I lived as a small child and to have the chance to explore this city that I left when I was five.

But today, when I turn to glance back at the view of Kyoto before Takato yanks me into the interior of the shrine, I see only a prison.

Orochi and Takato have both told me as much. The Hato-kai clan has the local government in its pocket and through them, they have connections to national agencies.

The plans have already been set in motion. I’ll be given permanent resident status, then fast-tracked for citizenship. Papers bearing my signature will be filed, forfeiting my US citizenship and resigning from my job. And here I will stay, locked away like a prize while Takato and his uncle greedily gobble up the crumbs of the empire my father built.

But the worst part is going to be leaving Gabriel.

I know he thinks I hate him. I’m sure all he can see is the way I looked at him like he was a monster.

Perhaps I was blinded by the way he ripped me out of myself and forced me to embrace a darkness I was still a little scared of. Perhaps I just saw the man who likes to chase, and punish, and dominate until I’m gasping for more, and that blinded me from seeing the true monster he is until now.

But he’s my monster, and deep down, I understand what he’s done, and why.

You knew what I was.

I did. I’ve always known, even if I chose to only focus on the aspects that made me scream for more as he wrenched a dark pleasure from my soul. But if I force the self-honesty, I know that when I saw that darkness and lethality in his eyes, I knew I was looking at more than just a man who likes to play rough in the bedroom.

And I still said yes. I still asked for more. I still craved him.

I still do today.

“This way,” Takato snaps, yanking me across the interior of the shrine. The whole place is being restored, and stone dust covers everything. Scaffolding is erected on one side of the room. A cement mixer stands in another corner.

Though the majority of Japan practices Shintoism and Buddhism, in modern times, most people marry in western-style ceremonies with a minister and rings and all that. But the Yakuza are steeped in old-world tradition, and this particular Shinto shrine is apparently where all the men of the Hato-kai leadership have been married for the last hundred years or so.

“Go get him,” Takato barks at his men as he drags me kicking and thrashing toward the altar at the front. One of his men disappears from the main room and then returns a minute later with the Shinto priest in his white robes.

“Let go of me!”

I try to wrestle out of Takato’s grip on my arm. But his hand is like iron on my skin, and he doesn’t budge as he drags me through toward the priest. The man in white bows respectfully at me, but Takato snaps at him impatiently.

“Begin,” he growls.

My teeth grit as I turn to glare at him. “I know what you’re doing.”

I’ve known since we met with Orochi, who made a snide comment about Gabriel “not paying my debts”. After that, it all clicked into place.

Takato is making a power play, and he’s using me along with Gabriel’s money to make it. That five million never did get to Orochi. I’m sure Takato kept it, and told his uncle that Gabriel reneged on the payment. And he’s using me to consolidate what remains of the Mori-kai, and then use that power to overthrow his uncle and take everything.

From the hard glare on his face, I can tell I’m right.

“I only need you to have a pulse until the last men loyal to your father acknowledge my claim to his empire and take their oaths of allegiance to me.” He smiles thinly. “You would be wise to remember that.”

I glare at him, shaking my head. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

Takato laughs. “I know exactly what I’ve done, little princess,” he growls.

“He’ll come for me.”

He grins. “Who, your fake husband? I doubt it. He’ll simply find another pretty whore to help sell his campaign of bullshit, like every other lying politician⁠—”

“You have no idea what he is, or what he’s capable of.”

Takato snorts. “If I need an American lawyer, I’ll be sure to call⁠—”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Takato frowns as I step closer, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“He’s a monster,” I hiss quietly. “And you never, ever steal things from monsters.”

The room is silent for a second. Takato eyes me through his frown. Slowly, his lips curl.

“Well,” he mutters. “I suppose I’ll take my chances.” He nods to the priest. “Gishiki o hajimera.”

Begin the ceremony.

My skin turns clammy as the priest turns and begins to purify the altar laden with fruit and sake. As is tradition, he rings a bell, calling for the attention of the Kami spirits before turning to address Takato and I.

Which is exactly when the lights go out.

My heart rate spikes as Takato swears next to me, barking orders at his two men.

He’s here.

He came for me.

Somehow, I can feel Gabriel’s presence even though the whole room is pitch black. Like that cold spot you swim through when doing laps. Like the night air at the tail end of fall when it teases the hairs on the back of your neck.

Like a blade, dragged lightly over your skin.

One of Takato’s men yells. A shot rings out, then another. Then five more, from two different directions. I drop to the floor, covering my head and curling into a ball as yelling and gunshots fill the sacred space.

Suddenly, I’m being grabbed.

My throat closes as I’m yanked to my feet, panic exploding through my system like fiery napalm. I whirl, hissing as I kick out with my heel, hoping to hurt Takato so that he releases his grip. But suddenly, I’m gasping as my leg is caught in a strong hand, twisted, and pulled up hard against a muscled hip.

Powerful, strong, familiar hands grab my body and draw me against a rock-hard chest.

“Run, Kitten,” he rasps into my ear before his teeth nip sharply at the lobe. “Run like I’m chasing you.”

I do.

The whole place is still dark, but I can see the lights of Kyoto through the cracks around the doorway. I sprint for that, choking on a scream when I hear another gunshot, then a grotesque gurgling sound.

“Fumi!”

I swerve right, away from the sound of Takato snarling my name. Sprinting forward, I grit my teeth as I use my shoulder to slam open a door to the outside. It’s a side door that leads out to a little terrace at the edge of the cliff, and some stairs⁠—

I skitter to a stop, my heart lurching as I grip the railing of the terrace, almost going over.

There are no stairs. Just rotted wood pylons where stairs used to be.

I start to turn, desperate to find another escape.

Hands grab me from behind.

I scream as my heart climbs into my throat, whirling with every intention of jamming my thumb in Takato’s eye.

Except when I turn, I go stock-still as my eyes lock with Gabriel’s.

My husband’s.

The hazel-green eyes of the man I’m completely in love with.

I collapse into him, pressing myself against his firm chest as his powerful arms surround me.

“We need to get out of⁠—”

“Stop.”

I gasp, and Gabriel stiffens at the sound of Takato’s voice behind us.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

Gabriel’s hand tightens against the small of my back. For the first time, I realize his other hand is holding a sword—and it’s one that I recognize. It used to hang above my dad’s bed, and I always thought it was just something to remind him of Japan.

Now, seeing it gripped in Gabriel’s powerful hand and dripping with blood, I know what it really is.

“Drop your weapon, Mr. Black,” Takato growls, levelling a gun at us. “Now.”

Gabriel’s jaw grits, but he slowly squats and lays the sword on the ground.

“Kick it over here.”

Gabriel glances at me, then glares at Takato and does it. The steel skitters across the stone terrace. Takato grins as he stops it with his foot before shoving it behind him.

“You came a very great distance just to die, Mr. Black,” he growls.

“And you’ve gone to great lengths to hide the fact that you stole from your own family and want to overthrow your uncle,” Gabriel spits back.

Takato’s lips curl.

“What of it? It’s my time, Mr. Black. This is how things work in my world. My uncle has had his time. And now it is my time to⁠—”

His words are abruptly choked off. His eyes bulge wide as a rasping sound tumbles from his lips, followed by a trickle of bright red down his chin. My hand flies to my mouth as I take in the gleaming steel blade protruding from his abdomen.

With a horrible, wet sound, the blade is pulled from his body. Takato drops to his knees, choking on the blood dripping from his mouth as he turns to look over his shoulder.

Orochi slowly shakes his head.

“It is not your time,” he growls. “It will never be your time, you ungrateful, dishonorable rat.”

I gasp, and Gabriel’s arm tightens around me as Orochi rams my father’s sword through Takato again. The younger Ito’s eyes glaze over as he tumbles sideways to the ground and is still.

The terrace is silent as Orochi kneels, closes his nephew’s eyes, then wipes the blade clean on Takato’s jacket. He lays the sword on the ground and stands, his eyes holding ours steadily.

“Mr. Black, we had an agreement, and you have honored your end of it.” He bows. “Now, I will honor my end.” His gaze turns to me alone. “Our business is concluded, Mrs. Black. You will not be bothered in New York, and I would suggest you make this your last trip to Kyoto. Now, let us consider this whole matter settled. We are now even.”

He turns to leave.

He’s wrong.

This is not settled.

It could be that Gabriel’s darkness has rubbed off on me. Or it could be that it’s always been there, hiding deep within me, and it’s taken finding my equal in Gabriel to bring it to the surface.

Either way, when I make my move, it’s without any hesitation. Without a second thought.

Without mercy.

I lift the sword, feeling its strange lightness in my hands as my fingers curl around it even as my lips curl at Orochi’s back.

“We’re not even.”

He stops, his shoulders rising and falling with a sigh. “Mrs. Black,” he says as he turns back to me. “We⁠—”

Orochi chokes out a bleating groan of pain as I ram the point of my dad’s sword through his chest.

“You ruined my family,” I snarl. “You killed my mother, chased me and my father from our home, and then a few days ago you had me kidnapped.” Orochi’s eyes bulge as I sink the blade deeper into him and step closer.

“But you know what really gets me?” I hiss. “You fucked with my husband.”

Orochi cries out in pain as I twist the blade without mercy, watching the blood leaking out of the corners of his lips and his face turning white.

“Now we’re even.”

I yank out the blade. Orochi stumbles to the side before his legs give out. His eyes roll back as he topples forward onto the stone, and then lies still.

I don’t realize I’m shaking until Gabriel comes up behind me, gently pulls the sword from my hand, and then wraps his arms tightly around me. I twist in his embrace, looking up into his eyes as he reaches up and cups my jaw.

“You…” I swallow as I shake my head incredulously. “You came…”

“Surely you’ve figured it out by now. There’s no place you could go,” he mutters quietly, “and no place you could run where I wouldn’t catch you, Kitten.”

I melt against him as he leans down close.

“I love you,” Gabriel growls.

“I love you too⁠—”

His mouth slams to mine in a brutal, punishing, possessive kiss that curls my toes and makes my pulse race.

When he pulls away, I’m no longer trembling. He takes my hand and I follow him back through the shrine, stepping over the bodies of Takato’s men. There’s no sign of the priest, but that’s probably a good thing.

We step out the front doors into the moonlight. Then suddenly, we both feel it at the same time: a presence behind us, and we whirl at the same time.

The man is unarmed. Tall, and handsome. Looking at him in the moonlight, it appears that he’s Japanese, but definitely with some other heritage, too—possibly Nordic.

He also looks strangely familiar. My brow furrows as Gabriel tenses next to me.

“We’re leaving,” Gabriel growls. “Watashitachiha shuppatsu shimasu.”

The man, who seems to be somewhere between my age and Gabriel’s, cocks his head to the side with a slightly amused smile on his lips.

“My English is just fine, Mr. Black,” he says mildly. “Though you didn’t get a chance to hear it last time.”

Suddenly it hits me.

“You,” I whisper. “You were with Takato’s bookkeeper. You came to the firm that day to help with the transfer.”

He smiles. “Very good memory, Fumi.”

“Make your choice,” Gabriel growls at him. “You can walk away and forget all of this. Or you can try and stop us, in which case, I’m going to kill you. You have five seconds to pick⁠—”

“You mistake my intentions, Mr. Black,” the man says. “I’m not trying to stop you at all. I merely want to speak with your wife.”

Gabriel frowns savagely next to me.

“And why exactly would you like to do that?” he snaps.

“Because…” the Japanese-and-Nordic Viking of a man smiles as his gaze slides to me. “We have something in common.”

“Who are you?” I murmur quietly, eying him. I’m unable to shake this weird feeling about him, and it’s freaking me out.

“My name is Kenzo,” he murmurs.

“And what do we have in common?”

He smiles.

“Hideo Mori is our father.”