Page 25 of The Oyabun's Boy

What had happened to me? A week ago, I was focused solely on expanding territory, neutralizing threats, and maintaining the careful balance of power that kept my empire functioning.

Now I was standing outside a bedroom like a lovesick guard dog, arranging for creature comforts for a boy who talked too much and feared too little.

A boy who should have been nothing more than a temporary diversion, a pretty thing to possess and discard once the novelty wore off. Instead, he had somehow become essential. Necessary in a way that nothing and no one had been since... ever.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching as Joy shifted in his sleep, one arm flung above his head now, his throat exposed in a display of vulnerability that made my mouth go dry.

Mine, I thought, the word burning through my consciousness with the force of absolute certainty. Mine to protect. Mine to possess. Eventually, mine to devour.

Heat coiled low in my stomach as I imagined how that pale skin would look marked by my teeth and hands. How those defiant eyes would darken with pleasure, perhaps even glazewith tears. How that clever, irritating mouth would form my name instead of endless chatter.

I imagined him writhing beneath me, all that fire and stubbornness channeled into passion. I would take him apart piece by piece until there was nothing left but sensation and surrender. I would make him forget every name but mine, every feeling but what I gave him.

The intensity of my own desire caught me off guard. I'd wanted people before—I was no monk—but never like this, never with this consuming need to possess not just the body, but the soul.

The essence of what made Joy... Joy.

I forced myself to look away, to regulate my breathing as I would before a particularly challenging negotiation. I would have him. Of that, I was certain. But not yet. Not like this, with him unaware and vulnerable.

When I claimed him—and I would claim him, completely and irrevocably—it would be with those green eyes wide open, seeing exactly what I was, what I was capable of. His surrender would only be sweet if given knowingly, with full acceptance of the monster he was choosing.

For now, I would let him sleep. Tomorrow would bring enough chaos—something at which I had always excelled.

I checked my watch again, calculating the hours until dawn. My uncle's location would be confirmed soon. Blood would be spilled. Business would continue as it always had.

But now there was this new element. This wild card I'd brought into my carefully ordered existence.

Joy murmured something in his sleep, the sound so soft it barely reached me. I strained to hear, irrationally hoping it might be my name, but it was nothing—just the random firing of a dreaming mind.

I straightened my jacket and took one last look at him—memorizing the curve of his cheek, the slight furrow between his brows that suggested his dreams weren't entirely peaceful. Good. Let him dream of me. Let him wake with my image already imprinted on his consciousness.

"Sleep well, Princess," I murmured, the endearment tasting both foreign and right on my tongue. "Tomorrow, the real game begins."

I pulled the door closed with a soft click, leaving instructions with the guards that they were to alert me the moment he stirred, no matter the hour. Then I headed back toward the command center, where death and destruction awaited my attention.

Each step took me further from Joy's room, but the warmth in my chest—that unfamiliar, unwelcome sensation—remained. Lingered like a stain I couldn't remove, a weakness I couldn't excise.

For the first time in decades, I was not entirely theOyabun, the monster, the man to be feared above all others. I was simply a man walking away from something precious, already calculating the minutes until I could return.

Chapter Seven

~ Joy ~

I jolted awake in a sea of black silk sheets that definitely weren't mine. For one panicked moment, my brain scrambled to piece together where I was and how I'd gotten there.

The mattress beneath me felt like sleeping on a cloud—if clouds were made of money and questionable life choices.

This was not the guest room Chen had escorted me to last night unless I'd somehow sleepwalked my way into the most dangerous man in New York's bedroom.

Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating what was unmistakably Kenji's domain. The same massive bed I'd seen yesterday, the same minimalist furniture that probably cost more than my entire education.

Last night, I distinctly remembered Chen leading me to guest quarters adjacent to my mother's room, where I'd fallen into an exhausted sleep after the most insane day of my life.

So how the hell did I end up here?

I sat up, clutching the silky sheets to my chest before realizing I was still wearing the t-shirt and boxers I'd slept in. Small mercies. At least I hadn't been undressed in my sleep by Mr. "You'll Be In My Bed Eventually."

Apparently, he was right.