Sleeping with who I want, when I want, keeps things interesting.
If I start to get bored, I can always increase the number of girls I fuck at one time.
But I would be lying if I said I didn’t let Sora get into my head a little bit.
Buying her a nice dress for tonight was my father’s idea—a peace offering because he knows I’ve been an ass to her even if he can’t pinpoint specifically what I’ve done.
Still, seeing Sora in the gown that I had an inkling she would find too revealing to even try on made me rock hard—a hell of a lot harder than making out with the blonde waitress or receiving her offer to suck my cock.
It was the first time I’ve seen Sora without makeup, too, and something about her natural beauty is captivating.
Somehow, she looks even more delicate and enticing without her mask of perfection—not a common ability.
But now that I’m away from the busty blonde and fully focused on the vision of Sora in that skin-tight red dress, my cock is straining against the zipper of my slacks.
It’s too bad that sleeping with Sora will be the final nail in my coffin, the last link to the chain that will bind me to my fate.
Our marriage will lock me into this world forever and set into motion my father’s plans to pass on the title of Don—a large part of why I never cared to marry before now.
I hoped to avoid the title as long as possible, but it would seem my father got tired of waiting.
I suppose fucking Sora won’t be the worst consolation prize.
I spent four months convincing myself that nothing on God’s green earth could make me want that—regardless of how attractive Sora might be—because her family has been the bane of my existence since before I knew who the Yakuza were or why we were fighting.
Yet, she managed to unravel all that hard work the moment she gasped my name.
She looked horrified by the sight of my tongue down some random woman’s throat, but in that moment, hearing my name on Sora’s lips made me want to make her scream it in averydifferent way.
Did I give her maid that gift to find which room Sora was in?
Yes.
Did I intentionally burst into that room with another woman to convince my fiancée to call off the wedding?
One hundred percent.
So, what should it matter if I slept with the blonde after?
Biting back a growl, I turn toward the foyer and nearly slam into Miko as I round the corner.
“There you are,” he says mildly, stopping short. “The don sent me to find you and bring you to him.”
“No doubt so he can give me my pre-party lecture about the consequences of misbehaving at tonight’s dinner.”
Rolling my eyes, I fall into step with my older brother—the only Chiaroscuro son my father seems to respect, probably because he’s not related to us by blood.
And because the don picked Miko up off the streets when he was too young to remember, my adopted brother has always felt indebted to my father.
He’ll do whatever it is the don tasks him with—even take a bullet without question.
While I could easily resent Miko for behaving like a glorified dog, I’m actually massively grateful for him.
He lightens the load around the don’s expectations, and even if half the time, Miko’s only around because my father raised him to be my personal bodyguard, he’s my best friend.
We might not be related by blood, but Miko’s as much a brother to me as the other three—just a hell of a lot more lethal with knives.
He knocks on the double doors leading into my father’s personal suite as soon as we arrive, then opens one side as soon as we’re told to enter. Rather than follow me in, Miko mutters a hushed “Good luck” and closes the door behind me.
