But I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I managed a weak smile as Aunt Akiko bustled around the kitchen, making tea and muttering about young men who didn’t eat properly.
two
. . .
The afternoon sun struggled through overcast skies as Stefano Vitale stood beneath the ancient oak marking the cemetery’s heart. Black sedans wound their way up the narrow gravel drive in a slow procession of power and respect, their engines purring with the expensive quiet of vehicles that whispered wealth and violence in equal measure.
But Stefano barely noticed the funeral pageantry unfolding around him. His mind was consumed with one thought—tonight, Leo Yamamoto would finally be his. Legally, completely, irrevocably his. Years of discipline, years of wanting what he couldn’t claim, and tonight it all ended.
Stefano adjusted his platinum cuff links with hands that wanted to be somewhere else entirely—wrapped around Leo’s slender waist, pinning those delicate wrists, showing that beautiful boy exactly whom he belonged to. Instead, he scanned the gathering crowd, cataloging allies and threats while his alpha nature prowled beneath his skin, impatient for the hunt to finally begin.
Marco flanked his right, and Stefano could sense his brother’s own anticipation. They’d all felt the pull during those carefully spaced visits to Leo’s cottage—that intoxicating scent of winter jasmine, those glimpses of pale skin and defiant amber eyes that made their alpha instincts howl for possession. Marco’s smile was razor-sharp today. His brother was thinking about Leo too, about how they’d share their prize once the legal bullshit was finally over.
Matteo held the left position, gaze moving through the crowd. The cousin’s silence carried more menace than usual, as if he was already calculating which threats would need to be eliminated to keep their omega safe. Stefano had caught Matteo studying Leo’s photographs with an intensity that bordered on obsession, his protective instincts as fierce as his need to claim.
The priest’s Latin prayers drifted across white chrysanthemums and Yamamoto Kenji’s mahogany casket, but Stefano’s attention was already elsewhere. He was thinking about Leo waking up in that cottage, probably unaware that his father was being buried today. Unaware that his entire world was about to change. Stefano’s hands clenched into fists as he imagined Leo’s reaction when they came for him—the fear, the defiance, that beautiful fire that would make breaking him so much sweeter.
Kenji had guarded his secret viciously for years. No one in the yakuza world knew he had a son—any son, let alone an omega. The isolation, the security measures—all carefully orchestrated to make the world believe Yamamoto Kenji would die without an heir. Until three years ago, when Kenji had appeared at Stefano’s door, ill and desperate, revealing a truth that changed everything.
“My enemies have discovered him,” Kenji had said simply. “When I’m gone, they’ll kill him just for being mine.”
The guardianship arrangement was straightforward. The Vitales, already protecting Yamamoto interests, would become Leo’s legal guardians upon Kenji’s death. His son would be protected—even if it meant Kenji died with Leo never knowing the truth about his father’s love and actions.
Mine,his alpha nature snarled, the possessive thought so strong it was almost audible.Finally fucking mine.
The formal condolences began as prayers concluded, a receiving line of criminal royalty offering their respects while evaluating how Kenji’s death would affect their own territories. Stefano endured the ritual handshakes and carefully worded offers of support, but his mind was occupied with more pressing concerns—like how Leo’s skin would feel beneath his hands, how those amber eyes would look when they finally understood their new reality.
When Tanaka Hiroshi approached, his bow carried exactly the right degree of respect for someone who understood the new order. At forty-eight, Kenji’s lieutenant had survived long enough to read situations correctly, and the survival instincts that had kept him alive were telling him to align with the Vitales.
“Vitale-sama,” Tanaka said, his voice carefully modulated. “Your presence honors Yamamoto-sama’s memory. He spoke of your family with deep respect until the end.”
Because he knew what would happen to his precious son if he didn’t,Stefano thought with dark satisfaction. Kenji had been desperate when he’d first approached them—his enemies circling, his health failing, his beautiful omega son completely defenseless against the predators who would kill for a chance to claim such a prize.
“Kenji was a man of honor,” Stefano replied, his voice carrying authority that made other alphas instinctively submit. “His wisdom guided our partnership.”
The partnership where Stefano had protected Leo from a distance while arranging for the boy’s legal ownership. Where he’d endured those torturous visits, breathing in Leo’s scent while maintaining the facade of professional interest.
“He believed in continuity above all else,” Tanaka agreed, understanding exactly what that meant for his organization’s future.
“Indeed,” Marco added, his smile holding the promise of violence for anyone who threatened that continuity. “Especially when that continuity protects what matters most.”
What mattered most was currently in that isolated cottage, completely unaware that his guardian was being lowered into the ground while his new owners finalized the paperwork for his transfer. Every security measure had been designed to keep Leo safe for this exact moment.
The remainder of the ceremony dragged on with agonizing politeness. Stefano shook hands with the Nakamura delegation, noting their respectful distance and apparent willingness to honor existing boundaries. The Zhang representatives offered condolences that carried undertones of business partnerships continuing unchanged. Smaller operations paid their respects with the nervous deference of parasites who understood their survival depended on not annoying their predators.
Through it all, Stefano’s mind wandered to Leo. Was the boy making afternoon tea in that tiny kitchen, moving with the unconscious grace that made Stefano want to pin him against the nearest wall? Was he wearing one of those oversized sweaters that somehow made his slender frame look even more delicate and claimable?
Soon,Stefano promised himself as Kenji’s casket disappeared into the earth.Very fucking soon.
As mourners began departing, Stefano caught fragments of whispered conversations about territorial adjustments andpartnership opportunities. The criminal landscape was shifting with Kenji’s death, but the Vitales had already claimed the only prize that mattered. Let the other families fight over scraps—Stefano had his eyes on a treasure worth more than all their territories combined.
By the time the last shovel of dirt covered Kenji’s grave, the old man was gone, his protection meaningless, and his most precious possession was about to discover exactly what kind of men had been watching over him.
At seven thirty, they were gathered in the private conference room, mahogany paneling and leather chairs creating the perfect setting for reshaping criminal empires. But Stefano’s attention was focused on one thing—making Leo legally his before anyone else could challenge his claim.
Morrison, the estate attorney, had arranged documents across the polished table. Color-coded folders, expensive pens, crystal tumblers that caught lamplight like captured fire—all the props necessary for transferring ownership of the most valuable asset in the city.
Most of the funeral’s attendees had departed, leaving only the essential players who would determine how smoothly this transition proceeded. Stefano sat at the head of the table because that’s where he belonged—the alpha who’d waited for this moment, who’d planned every detail of claiming what was rightfully his.
