Dahlia

There's nothing to worry about. It's true. Akira will take care of everything, and I know that. I'm cared and provided for.

It makes me want him more. I fiend for him. Every need, every desire he fulfills. He'll take care of it.

He's devoted to me, and I can't help but give that devotion back. He gives me good, regular interesting sex. A safe home, food shelter. I don't work. I don't pay bills, take care of kids, deal with drama.

There's no baby mothers, no wives no ex girlfriends.

There is the small, teeny, tiny nearly insignificant little fact that he's yakuza boss with a criminal list as long as I am tall, but really—

Something had to give. Akira is making dinner, conversing with Ethan.

"Did you get rid of the Tanko?" Akira asks.

Ethan frowns looking away. "We...tried very hard."

"So you failed completely," Akira hums, stirring the broth in the pot.

Ethan winces. "Damn it, Butcher do you have to be so harsh?"

Akira shrugs. "I think harsh is dismembering you for your failure. I consider myself nice."

Akira's eyes float to mine. They narrow. "Isn't she gorgeous?"

Ethan looks at me for a moment before smirking. "Now if I answer that what will I lose?"

Akira chuckles. "I'm going to marry that woman you know," he turns the heat off. "Even if she's meddlesome."

Akira turns to me. "Learning some Japanese?"

I just shrug, snuggling under him, pressing my body against him, my nose in his neck. He smells so good. I want to live in his skin.

Is that weird? He kisses my head, putting his arms around me, going back to talking with Ethan, his hands rubbing my arm idly.

He smells so good. I inhale discreetly. Hm...he's so hot. My hands drift up his chest, massaging the flesh of his pecs. He doesn't mind me, I'm always touching him.

He keeps talking to Ethan switching back and forth between English and Japanese, smirking at me when my hands go to far up or too far down.

"Ethan," Akira says finally, after about 15 minutes. "It's dinner time."

"Oh yum—"

Ethan pauses as he sees the impatient smile on Akira's face. He's making plates, content that Ethan has received the message to leave.

I smile, and start walking with him to the door.

"Heh almost overstayed my welcome there," he chuckles nervously. "You know this...may sound odd but...he used to make me plates."

Ethan glances down at me before pasting a smile on his face. "We were close. Brothers even. Before..."

Before me. Before I came. I nod.

"I'm sorry. If you tell him I'm sure—"

"No, no. It's natural," he rubs the back of his neck. "Man must leave his father and mother and all that jazz."

He sighs, as I open the door for him. "He loves you," I assure him.

Ethan smiles. "Not as much as he loves you. But I'm happy."

He gives me a nod, tucking his hands into his pockets walking to his car. I should find him a girlfriend. He seems lonely.

"Ethan seems sad," I call across the house, sitting at the table.

Akira frowns, setting a plate in front of me. "He seems fine to me. No less Ethan than he always is." He presses a kiss to my lips as he sits next to me.

"I dunno. You two were so close."

I lean my head on his shoulder as I eat quietly.

"Actually," he says after a moment, "There's something I want your opinion on."

I perk up, expecting the norm, decorations, cars, a book he's reading, a painting he'd seen in passing. He likes to get my opinion on things.

I smile at the thought and kiss his cheek as he slides over a folder.

"Should I start a war with this clan," he asks, slurping his noodles.

I blink at the folder. Ah. This is the one thing we don't really talk about. Not outright. The criminal side of Akira. The murderer side of Akira.

I close the folder. "I'm not really someone you should take advice from about this, Akira. I'm not very knowledgeable in...this."

He frowns. "But I care what you think. It'll effect you too, you know. Just...take a look. There's nothing graphic."

I open the folder once more my fingers trembling. Isn't he supposed to keep this away from me at all costs? That's what I've read. What I've seen. The mob boss keeps the business away from the wife, and she just...

Silently shops?

I guess that doesn't sound like me. She usually becomes a victim or worse a causality doesn't it.

"I know we don't talk about it. But this is a big decision, Dahlia," he says beside me, his voice low and rumbling. "Bigger than a house or a car or...drapes. This could effect our lives for years. And I thought...you should know. And you should tell me what you thought."

Right. Akira isn't like other men. He's not cagey, or dismissive. He doesn't seek to shelve me. He wants to interact with me, kiss me, hold me, rub my leg when I read a book text me a picture of a flower and ask me what it is instead of googling.

Tell me he doesn't need google when he has me when I ask him why he doesn't just look it up.

I swallow, looking through the folder. He's right, there's nothing graphic. It's really just a comprehensive plan. A strategy. The method of attack, suspected casualties, loss of revenue, affected neighborhoods, crime rates.

I guess I didn't think he did more than...occasionally murder people. I see why he's so busy.

"Akira I don't know what I'm looking at honestly," I shrug, leading through the contents of the folders.

"War with Tankos will put guns on the street, which means one of two things; the police will crack down harder, or we'll have to play them extortion level bribes," he explains.

"This is the expected causality rate of civilians, and it was calculated by taking into account the way the Tanko's fight."

I raise my brow. "Dirty?"

He nods. "It could go on for years. We could lose money, lose business, end up having to leave Japan, and that's if we win. If we lose..."

He trails. I frown deeper, inhaling.

"Why do you want to go to war with them?" I ask.

He looks me in my eyes. "I don't."

I slide the file over to him. "Then don't."

"And if I can't avoid a fight?" He adds carefully.

I smirk. "Have I ever even avoided a fight?"

He chuckles, kissing my shoulder. "Touché, my flower. Touché."