After dropping Emi off at her college, Ren didn't return to the office. Instead, he went straight to the meeting that had been arranged days ago—one he had no intention of canceling, especially now.
Riku Hoshino was already waiting. Thirty-five, sharp-eyed, with shoulder-length hair pulled back into a low tie, Riku wore his age well. Ambitious, impulsive, and second only to Kazama Ren in Tokyo's underground hierarchy.
They sat across from each other in the meeting room of Hoshino's compound, the tension immediate.
"You've been busy," Riku said, voice low and cold. "Care to explain why you interfered in Takahashi's deal? Or why did you destroy Tanaka's contract? Both of them are under me. Do you have any idea how much you cost me?"
Ren leaned back slightly, lips tilting into a faint smirk. "Didn't realize the great Riku Hoshino couldn't handle a few minor losses."
Riku's chair screeched as he stood and grabbed Ren by the collar, dragging him halfway across the table. Daiki moved immediately from the side, but Ren lifted a hand—stand down.
Riku's breath was sharp against Ren's face. "You think I don't know what this is about? All this… just because of a girl. Emi Fujimoto, right?"
Ren's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.
Riku grinned, malicious. "Didn't know you had a thing for younger girls. If that's all it takes, I can arrange plenty. Hell, I'll send you a dozen tonight."
Ren's jaw tightened. He tried to hold it together. Tried not to let the name sting when it came from Riku's mouth.
But then Riku leaned in slightly. "I'm curious now. Maybe I'll meet her myself one day. I want to see what kind of girl has Japan's top mafia heir acting like a damn bodyguard."
That was it.
Ren shoved Riku's hand off his collar and stood slowly, his voice calm, but deadly. "Touch her, even once, and I'll make sure the Hoshino group falls—overnight."
Riku's face twitched, but he said nothing as Ren turned and walked out of the room, Daiki close behind.
-----
That night, Ren sat in the back corner of a quiet bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Daiki was across from him, watching him carefully.
"You okay?" Daiki asked.
Ren didn't answer right away. He downed the drink and set the glass down.
"He said her name." He finally muttered, his voice low, edged with something darker. Daiki's expression shifted slightly, tension rising in his posture.
Daiki's expression shifted. "You think he'll make a move?"
Ren's fingers curled around the rim of the empty glass. "He won't," he said flatly. "Because if he does, I'll take away everything he owns."
Before Daiki could reply, a pair of hostesses approached their booth, smiling too brightly, eyes gleaming with interest and expectation.
One of them reached out to touch Ren's sleeve, her voice already starting some practiced line but he didn't even look at her. "Don't touch me," he snapped, his voice turning to ice.
The girl blinked in surprise, pulling her hand back. Daiki waved them off with an apologetic glance, and they retreated quickly.
Ren's gaze was distant. He hated being touched by strangers. The fake smiles. The perfume. The practiced flirtation. None of it could reach him.
Then Emi's face flickered in his mind.
That soft look in her eyes when she tried to argue with him about paying rent. The way her voice wavered when she said thank you. The way she smiled through exhaustion.
He stood abruptly.
Daiki blinked. "Ren?"
"Let's go," Ren said. "Take me to the house."
------
By the time they arrived, it was already past midnight. Ren knew she'd be asleep. That was fine. He just needed to see her.
He moved through the house quietly, stopping outside the guest room. The door creaked slightly as he pushed it open.
There she was.
Sleeping peacefully, curled under the blankets. Her breathing was soft. Her face relaxed in a way he rarely got to see when she was awake.
He stepped inside and sat at the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb her. For a moment, he just watched. The calm on her face. The trust she had, sleeping under his roof without fear.
Slowly, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, letting his fingers trail gently through her hair.
She didn't stir. He leaned down slowly, careful not to wake her, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.
"I'll protect you," he whispered. "No matter what it costs me." It wasn't a promise he made lightly. He didn't say things he didn't mean.
He stood slowly, casting one last glance at her peaceful face, then turned and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.