Emperor of Rage: A Dark Mafia Enemies To Lovers Romance

“Mal!”

I scream his name into the cool wooden floor of the living room. My back arches, my nails digging into the floorboards as pleasure explodes through my core. Mal’s thick fingers dig into my skin, marring me with delicious bruises as he grips my hips and rams into me. His thick cock sinks into my eager pussy, the wet sounds of us filling the space as he fucks me against the floor.

Yes, I should be resting and healing.

Oops.

I whimper as he leans over me, his massive body pinning me down, forcing my knees wide apart on the floor. I cry out when his teeth rake over my neck, biting and sucking, piercing my skin as he drives into me, spanking my ass.

His hand wraps around my throat from behind, my eyes rolling back in ecstasy as I feel his lips brush my ear.

“Are you going to be my good little whore and come all over my big fucking cock?”

“Yes!” I choke, another cry wrenching from my lips as he reaches down to pinch and twist one of my nipples. “Fuck yes, Mal! I⁠—”

I jolt when I hear pounding on the front door to the guesthouse.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mal growls darkly. He doesn’t slow or stop, and I can feel my eyes rolling back as his hips roll, reaming my swollen pussy with his god-like dick as I start to shatter all over again.

The pounding comes again. Harder this time.

“Fuck off!” Mal roars, groaning as his hands grip my hips harder, fucking into me with hard, punishing strokes.

The person pounding on the front door doesn’t hear—or does, but doesn’t give a shit. Because the knocking comes again.

“FUCK OFF!” Mal yells.

More knocking.

“Goddammit,” he hisses. I groan when he slows and gently eases his cock out of me, leaving me feeling empty and needy.

He wraps my hair in a fist, pulling me upright and twisting my head around to kiss me fiercely.

“Guarantee this is Tak being an asshole,” he grunts. “I’ll get rid of him, then I’m going to make you come all over my cock and then my face like a good girl.”

Sweet. Jesus.

“Okay,” I manage to blurt, shivering as I grab his face and kiss him heatedly.

Mal pulls away and gets to his feet, grabbing his t-shirt from the floor where he tossed it earlier and holding it in front of him as a semblance of modesty.

It’s…not really working. It doesn’t do shit to hide his large, raging erection, and barely covers the grooves of his hips.

But whatever. It’s his cousin. Who cares.

Mal marches across the open living room area, muttering darkly under his breath.

“Swear to fucking God, Tak,” he barks as I giggle and slide back to hide behind the couch, peeking around the corner to watch the fireworks.

Mal reaches the door, looking furious: his broad shoulders tense, his fists clenched at his side as holds the measly t-shirt over his cock. I almost feel sorry for Takeshi on the other side of the door.

Almost.

Mal violently yanks the door open. “What part of fuck off did you not⁠—”

My entire body freezes.

It’s not Takeshi.

It’s Damian.

My heart plummets, and before I can react, I see surprise flash across Damian’s face, his gaze locking onto Mal’s naked form in dangerous amusement.

Except then his gaze moves past Mal…and to where I’m peeking from around the corner of the couch.

Instantly, the amusement on his face disappears. His purplish eyes go cold, his chiseled jaw grinds.

The atmosphere in the room shifts dramatically, the tension skyrocketing as Damian drags his fierce gaze back to Mal. Both men stare at each other, neither of them saying a word.

Mal’s scowl deepens as he sizes up the man in front of him, while Damian’s expression quickly transforms from shock into something cold and protective.

“What the fuck is this?” Damian finally says, his voice tight with barely controlled fury as he steps forward, his eyes cutting past Mal to where I’m scrambling back behind the couch. It feels like I’m hyperventilating as I hastily pull my clothes behind the couch with me, pulling on panties, my skirt, and my top before I get up from the floor.

My heart is racing, heat rising to my cheeks as I shakily get to my feet and turn to the door, not quite able to meet Damian’s eyes.

This, obviously, is not how he was supposed to find out about Mal and me.

He also wasn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.

“Hey…” I manage, my voice small as I emerge from behind the couch, fully dressed now but still feeling entirely exposed. “So…yeah.”

“Yeah?” Damian growls darkly.

I clear my throat, feeling the heat on my face and the lingering delicious soreness between my legs from Mal.

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

I almost cringe saying it. Mal turns to eye me with smug amusement, still not bothering to cover his nakedness aside from the t-shirt covering his dick.

Damian’s gaze flicks to me, his eyes narrowing. “Really, Frey? Because it sort of looks to me like you’re fucking him.”

Mal’s jaw clenches, and I can see the flicker under the surface, the dark, dangerous edge that always seems to be simmering just beneath his calm.

Possessiveness.

I shiver as he slowly turns to level his cold gaze at Damian. “Watch your fucking tone,” he growls, his voice low, full of warning.

Damian takes a step forward, his body tensing, ready for a fight. He and Mal are roughly the same size. And while Mal wears his savageness and his fury on his sleeve, Damian’s is hidden in a way that’s insidiously disarming.

He stops when he’s nose to nose with Mal, his purplish eyes narrowing darkly.

“If you think I’m going to stand here and let you treat her like some⁠—”

“Finish that fucking sentence,” Mal hisses, “and I’ll break your fucking jaw.”

“That’s enough!” I snap, surging across the room and getting between them before things get any worse. The air between them is electric, charged with all the tension that’s been building since the moment Damian walked through that door. “Both of you!” I bark loudly. “Stop!”

Neither of them backs down. They just glare at each other. Mal’s possessiveness is written all over him—in his body language, in the way he stands just behind me, ready to tear Damian apart if he makes the wrong move. And Damian, always so protective of me, is staring Mal down with barely contained fury.

“I’m not letting this happen, Frey,” Damian hisses, his voice tight with frustration. “Not with him.”

The dangerous calm in Mal’s eyes sending a shiver through me. “I don’t recall that you have any fucking say in what she does,” he growls.

“Like hell I⁠—”

“STOP IT!” I scream, turning to shove Damian back. “Mal’s right, you don’t,” I snap. “If I start shooting up heroin or going on killing sprees, then yes, you have permission to intervene in my life.” I throw a quick look at Mal, then turn back to Damian. “But not for this.”

Damian’s eyes turn a supernatural shade of purplish fire. “Frey, are you fucking kidding me with this fucking psycho⁠—”

“Enough!” I yell again, this time whirling to plant my hands on Mal’s bare chest, pushing him back before he attacks Damian, trying to stop the situation from spiraling completely out of control.

I mean, it’s already almost there.

My eyes lock with Mal’s, asking him to stop. His jaw grinds, his eyes drawing to ice-cold blue slits. But he nods his chin curtly, and I feel the tension in his body abate under my touch.

I swallow, turning back to my brother.

“Damian,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry you found out like this. But this isn’t your call.”

His eyes flick to mine, and I can see the hurt and frustration behind them. He’s always been protective of me—sometimes too much—but I know this is more than that. He’s angry, confused, and probably worried that I’m making a huge mistake.

A week ago, I might have agreed with him.

Not anymore.

“I’m a grown woman,” I say, my voice calm but firm. “I can make my own decisions.”

Damian’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he’s going to argue. But then he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Fine. Do what you want, Freya.”

He turns and strides away, leaving the tension between us hanging heavy in the air. I feel a pang of guilt twist in my chest, but before I can dwell on it, Mal pulls me close, his arm around my waist.

“You don’t owe him an explanation,” Mal mutters low in my ear.

I lean into him, my body instinctively responding to the heat between us, but my mind is spinning.

This is a mess. And it’s only going to get worse.

The dining room at Kenzo’s mansion is alive with conversation, but you can already feel the tension, even though neither Damian or Mal is even in the room yet. It’s so thick it’s like an invisible storm cloud hanging over the table, and I can feel the weight of it pressing down on me as I take my seat.

…A seat I’ve very diplomatically selected, with Annika’s help.

In the last few hours, I’ve come clean with my best friend. Again, not that I owe anyone anything. But I felt like I should put cards on the table. So we sat by one of the koi ponds, and I told her everything.

Well…you know…almost.

And of course, immediately Annika reminded me why she’s my best friend in the world and closer than a sister when she hugged me and told me all she wanted for me was to be happy and safe.

I told her I was both of those things.

But yeah, Dinner Table Cold War tonight was, and still is, a real possibility.

So to try to deal with the overprotectiveness of Damian and the outrageous possessiveness of Mal, Anni helped me arrange the circular dining table so that I could appease both. We put Mal to my left, Damian to my right with Annika next to him, then Kenzo, Sota, Kir and Isaak—who all arrived early with Damian—then Hana, and finally Tak, in between her and Mal.

We even used place cards, for fuck’s sake.

Except of course, when I walked into the dining room just now, I saw our carefully planned diplomacy had been utterly fucked.

Now, the table goes Mal, me, Hana, Annika, Kenzo, Sota, Kir, Damian, Isaak, and then Takeshi, putting Damian directly opposite me.

It doesn’t take a detective to figure out who the culprit is, especially when said culprit walks in looking extremely pleased with himself as he takes his seat next to me.

“Seriously?” I mutter, turning to Mal.

“Seriously,” he growls back, just as Damian walks in with a scowl, seeing where he’s sitting.

For a second, I think we’re going to have another almost-brawl on our hands. But Kir senses the tension, and beckons for Damian to come sit.

Immediately afterward, he glances back at me, arching a stern but quizzical brow as his eyes swivel from me, to Mal, and then back to me.

My face burns as I tug out my phone and send him a brief text.

Me

It’s complicated. I’m sorry. I should have told you earlier. Can we talk after dinner?

Kir’s reply is quick, and brings a smile to my face when I read it.

Kir

You don’t own me or anyone else an apology for your feelings, Freya. And trust me, it’s never NOT complicated. I’ll be here for a few days if you want to talk. But you don’t owe me anything.

Kir

Just tell me—are you happy, safe, and respected?

I bite my bottom lip, my face heating.

Me

Yes. Very much so.

Kir

Then all I am is happy for you.

Kir

With of course the obligatory “if he hurts you, I’ll cut off his balls and make him eat them on toast before I spend roughly two weeks killing him in the slowest, most excruciating way I can dream up”.

I grin as I look up across the table at Kir. He winks at me, nodding his chin.

Jiro, Kenzo’s personal chef, brings out the lavish spread of food he’s prepared for the night: a mix of gorgeous sushi and sashimi along with all sorts of insanely delicious Japanese snacks: karaage, menchi katsu, assorted yakitori, and okonomiyaki.

And of course, sake.

So much sake.

Sota and Kir talk a little business before Kenzo steers the conversation around to Kyoto in general.

Kir clears his throat, glancing my way. “Freya, before I forget, I was hoping you could access my home system remotely at some point and poke around for any security holes.” His brow furrows. “I’m not certain, but I think someone’s trying to hack into it.”

Damian snickers. “Been clicking those sketchy pop-up ads, uncle? Looking for hot horny MILFs in your area again?”

Kir shoots him a withering look as Annika and I hide giggles and grins.

“No, wise-ass,” he grunts. “But there’s a lot of sensitive business stuff on my home network, so I want to make doubly sure it’s secure.”

I shrug. “I mean, not to brag, but I built it. They’d have to be really good to get in. But yeah,” I smile at him. “I’ll take a look⁠—”

I shiver when I feel Mal’s hand slip under the tablecloth to rest on my thigh—silently reminding me of the power dynamic between us that never seems to shift.

Damian, across the table, watches us coolly, his expression unreadable, but I sense anger simmering beneath the surface.

Mal’s grip tightens on my leg, his thumb brushing over the fabric of my jeans in a slow, deliberate motion. His touch sends a distracting ripple of heat through me, making it hard to focus on the conversation around us. I’m sure that’s exactly what he wants—to remind me, maybe everyone else in the room, that I’m his.

Marking his territory. Claiming me.

And the crazy thing is, part of me likes it.

A big part.

I know I shouldn’t. I know his possessiveness should feel suffocating. But there’s something about the way Mal exerts his dominance over the situation, the way he’s so unapologetic about it, that makes my heart race in a way I can’t control.

“So, Damian, tell me,” Mal says coldly. “Have you hired any more sexual predators to fill the vacancy in your ranks back in New York?”

I groan. He means Dimitri. No, scratch that. He means to stir shit up and make this whole dinner go nuclear.

Damian’s mouth twists as he smiles right back at Mal. “You’ll find, Mal, that I don’t take bait that easily. If you’re curious, I slit the neck of the piece of shit you’re referring to personally and made sure he was still breathing when I stuffed his balls down his throat.”

“Dinner conversation, Damian,” Kir mutters under his breath, his tone exasperated as he shoots his nephew a dark look.

Damian dips his chin. “Apologies, uncle,” he says politely before locking eyes with Mal again. “However, judging from the bruises on my sister’s fucking neck,” he grits, “I think the sexual predator I’m more concerned about is sitting across the table from⁠—”

“She’s not your sister,” Mal says icily.

“And she’s certainly not your fucking punching bag⁠—”

“No, she’s not, but you’re about to be.”

Mal’s hand leaves my thigh as he calmly gets to his feet. Damian does the same, with Takeshi and Isaak following right after.

“I think…”

Sota’s voice isn’t loud. But when he speaks, the room goes quiet.

“That we have concluded this conversation,” he murmurs, shooting Mal a look. “Please, sit, Mal.”

Mal’s stormy, ice-blue eyes dart across the table, boring holes in Damian. But then, with a nod to Sota, he takes his seat. Takeshi follows, then Damian and Isaak. I shoot them both a “what the fuck” look. Issak looks his usual impassive, silent self. but maybe a little sheepish. Damian just glares back at me before turning to slice Mal in two with his gaze.

Mal’s hand slips back to my thigh and squeezes.

Hard.

The rest of dinner is a blur of tension and awkward conversation, but I’m only half paying attention. All I can focus on is Mal’s hand on my thigh, the feeling of his fingers pressed against my skin, grounding me and pulling me further into the dark, dangerous world we’ve built for ourselves.

After dinner, there’s more drinks, and of course dessert, and a bit more chatter. But eventually Sota announces he’s going home. Kir and Isaak depart soon after to their hotel in central Kyoto.

I love him to bits, but mercifully, they take Damian with them.

When they’re gone, Mal stands from the table, conspicuously holding my hand for the rest of them—if they still weren’t aware of what was going on between us—to see. Then, wordlessly, with my face throbbing as I shoot Annika a grin, Mal leads me from the room out of the house, and back to the guesthouse.

He ushers me in and then steps back outside for a moment. When he returns, the tension between us shifts, morphing into something heavier and more dangerous. Mal pulls me close, his hands gripping my waist as he presses me against the wall, his body crowding mine, and I can see the possessiveness burning in his eyes.

“Just so we’re fucking clear,” he growls, his words vibrating through me. “You’re mine. I’m not fucking sharing you with anyone.”

I swallow hard. “Okay, just so long as you’re clear that Damian’s like a brother to me. It’s not⁠—”

“Are you related by blood?”

I frown. “What?”

“Is he a blood relation. Do you share DNA. Were his parents your parents.”

I roll my eyes. “No⁠—”

“Then he’s not your brother,” Mal grunts, his voice rougher now. “He’s not your brother, and he sure as hell isn’t mine. He’s just another man trying to take what belongs to me.”

There’s something dark and raw in the way he says it that sends a shiver down my spine. But it’s not fear—it’s a twisted kind of excitement, a pull I can’t explain, like I’m addicted to the madness that is Mal Ulstäd.

He presses his body closer, pinning me to the wall as his hands trail up my sides, his touch possessive and firm. “I won’t share you, Freya,” he growls again, his voice a low rasp in my ear. “I don’t care if he sees you as a sister or what your relationship is with him. To me, he’s just competition. And I. Don’t. Lose.”

I should be pulling away, telling him to stop being so controlling, but the truth is, I don’t want to and I’m not sure I could if I tried. The intensity of his gaze, the sheer force of his will, pulls me in deeper every single time.

“Mal…” I whisper, my voice trembling with a tangle of emotions I can barely sort through. “It’s not like that with Damian. He’s always been protective of me, but that’s it. He’s the one that got Annika and I out of running scams and trying to steal watches, introduced us to Kir… He gave us the life we have now.”

His grip tightens slightly, and his eyes flash with something dangerous, possessive and fierce. “Just the same,” he growls, his voice rougher. “You’re mine. Not his. Nobody else’s. Just mine.”

There’s an intensity in his words that should terrify me, but instead, stirs something deep inside me—something dark that I’ve been trying to deny. As much as I want to push back and tell him to ease up, part of me craves this—the way he claims me so ferociously and makes me feel like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmurs, as if reading my thoughts. “You like that I won’t share you with anyone.”

I swallow hard.

He’s right. And I hate that he’s right.

But I don’t say anything. I can’t. Instead, I just stare up at him, my heart pounding, my body betraying me as the truth settles deep in my chest. I do like it. And I want everything he’s offering, even if it’s dangerous and twisted.

Mal’s lips curl into a dark, satisfied smile, his hand sliding around to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. “You’re mine,” he whispers in a low, possessive growl that sends a shiver down my spine. “And I’m never letting you go.”

His mouth crashes to mine, and the rest of the world falls away.

Later, as we lie together in the dark, the silence between us feels heavy with all the things we still haven’t said. I can feel the weight of Mal’s arm draped over my waist, the slow rise and fall of his chest against my back. There’s a stillness in the air, but I know it won’t last.

I turn slightly, glancing up at him in the dim light. His eyes are closed, but I can tell he’s not asleep. There’s too much tension in his body. He’s still brooding, caught up in his own thoughts.

“Mal?” I whisper.

His eyes open slowly.

“Why are you like this?” I ask softly, my fingers tracing the lines of his arm as it rests around me. “Why don’t you let anyone in?”

His expression tightens slightly, as if my question has touched something raw inside him.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks. “I just don’t know how,” he mutters, his voice rough around the edges. “I don’t know how to be anything other than this.”

His words hit me harder than I expect, sending a wave of sadness crashing over me. Mal is so consumed by his need to control and claim that he’s built walls around himself that even he doesn’t know how to break down. The worst part is, I can feel those walls closing in around me, too.

“I don’t need you to be anything else,” I whisper, my voice trembling as I turn in his arms to face him. “I just need you to be honest with me. Please… Let me in.”

He’s silent for a long moment, his gaze searching mine as if trying to decide if he can trust me with the truth. Then, slowly, he exhales, the tension in his body easing just a fraction.

“I’m trying,” he murmurs quietly in the darkness. “I just don’t know if I can.”

It’s the closest thing to vulnerability I’ve ever heard from him, and it sends a flood of emotion through me. I lean into him, pressing a soft kiss to his chest, and for a moment, we just lie there together, the weight of his admission hanging between us.

Maybe he’ll never fully let me in. Maybe Mal is too broken, too consumed by his own darkness to ever really change. But in this moment, it feels like enough.

For now, at least, I will take what he’s giving me.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s all I need.