Kiss Of The Enemy

~RENJI~

The light sensor flickered on with my every step as I made my way from the entrance of my father's large mansion into his office. I'd only arrived in Boston from Tokyo last night because, according to Papa, there was something important that needed to be done.

Kai, my right-hand man, slipped the coat from my shoulders as we stepped further inside. Before reaching the grand staircase, though, I turned to him. "Stay down here," I said before ascending the staircase.

Father was in his office, seated with his back against the chair. His hair, once red like mine, had all turned gray, a testament to his dignified aging. I gave a curt bow to him and walked forward to sit across from him. Finnian, his Irish bodyguard, gave a curt bow to us before stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind him. It was soundproof, so I worried not about him leaning in on our conversation.

"You sounded troubled yesterday, Father," I asserted, making myself comfortable on the armrest chair. Our conversation spoken in Japanese.

Father raised a delicate gray brow. "Twelve hours’ flight and that's the first thing you say to your father who you haven't seen in a year?" He shook his head, and I sighed.

"I was working a lot during said twelve hours’ flight, Father. I didn't get to sleep a wink," I asserted. "How are you?"

"Better," said Father. "A few coughs here and there—" He didn’t complete whatever he was about to say before he was seized by a fit of coughing. "But I'm fine."

"You don't look fine to me." My eyes narrowed. "What did Fredrickson say?" Fredrickson was Father's American private physician.

"That I'm getting better, Renji. You don't need to worry about me." I was about to tell him that I, in fact, needed to worry about him, but I caged it in and nodded, giving way to the main reason for being in Boston. The city was fine, but I preferred my homeland, Tokyo.

"I'm stepping down," Father said. For the first few seconds, I was confused by his words, but then it clicked.

"Stepping down from Y&M Couture?" Y&M Couture was the big boutique Father had built to cover up our shady underground business. It had branches in Tokyo, which I looked over, the branch in Boston which Father worked with, and the last branch in New York where my eldest brother, the first son, worked.

"Yes," Father said with a tired sigh, "and also from the Yakuza."

My ears rangShock flared in my eyes as I stared at him, waiting for him to call it a bluff, but Father just stared dead at me. "You cannot mean that," I said, denial coating my words.

"I very well do, son," he said, bringing both his hands to rest on the table and clasp each other. "It has already been done. I'm stepping down and going clean."

"Going clean?" My voice cut through the room. My brows furrowed, my face contoured in a frown. "Father, this is not drugs. We have... This is Mafia, Father. We cannot just decide to go clean."

"Who said we are?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. "You are taking over, Renji Mori. The Yakuza, both the Tokyo branch and the Boston branch, is yours."

My heart pounded so hard I thought I might collapse and die. "You... You are giving the Yakuza to me?" I asked incredulously, not quite believing it.

"Yes. Do you not think you are ready to handle the Yakuza, Renji?" he asked. "Do you doubt yourself?" A trap question.

Father, while the kindest man, was also the harshest teacher. He trained all of us, me and my three brothers from entirely different mothers, into what we are today. I didn't like to pride myself, but I knew I was his favorite. Ryu, the eldest, had always thought Father was going to hand him the Yakuza as though it were his birthright. He was so wrong.

"No, Father, I do not doubt myself," I said, and a small smile tipped his lips. "But... Seamus O'Connor has most part of Boston. It is his city."

"Was," Father corrected. "Was his city. Boston is now yours, Renji."

I shook my head, narrowing my eyes. "No..."

"Yes, Renji." Father sighed. "I am old. Seamus is very much old as well. This long feud we've always had is enough—I am tired of it. At least if I die, I know I died having made a truce with one of my friends... then." I almost let out a snort. Father had millions of enemies out there; he just didn’t like to bother himself with them. "So that is why we are calling a truce, son. Why you can have Y&M Couture and also the Yakuza all in Boston—you will get married to the daughter of Seamus O'Connor."

"No." I disagreed immediately, something Father didn't like one bit. "No, Father," I softened my tone. "I will not marry Aisling O'Connor. She's... Look at her father, the girl would definitely be spoiled."

"She's a woman, Renji. A twenty-three-year-old woman, and she's not spoiled. Yes, her daddy has money, but the girl is working for her own money as well." Father then slid the iPad before him to me. I looked down at it, watching the girl in a pink singlet and a pink tulle skirt twirl around a—probably a dance floor. "She's a ballet dancer," he said, turning to the next slide. "As well as a painter. A girl like that could not be spoiled."

My fists clenched at my side. I couldn't disobey Father, and everything he spouted was right. This was O'Connor's city, and to make peace so both families could stay as one was only if a truce was called. I sighed, resigned. "Yes, Father, I will marry Aisling O'Connor."

Father gave a bright smile that could unblind the blind. It was the widest I’d ever seen on him. "Perfect, son. I know you will never fail me." He reached out to pat my cheek. "Prepare then—the new King of Boston."