Sweet Hatred
Chapter 52: Edge of Control

Chapter 52: Edge of Control

KAEL

I didn’t care for parties. Too many perfumes masking desperation, too many hands grasping for a piece of me under the guise of toasts and business cards. But just like my father had taught me, I tolerated them—for power, for appearances, for control.

But tonight, for her.

The music was low and sultry, the kind that wrapped around you like smoke. A subtle crowd shifted as we entered—men in tailored suits, women in silk and diamonds, and dancers in traditional kimono moving like whispered promises under the warm gold lighting.

But none of it held my attention.

It was her. Aria. On my arm.

She wore the midnight black gown I chose for her like it was spun onto her skin, hugging every dip and curve, that smooth expanse of her back on full display, delicate chains trailing down her spine like temptation itself. The slit in her dress gave teasing glimpses of her leg with every step, and the way her hips swayed—it was fucking criminal.

Her scent—sweet and sinful—rose off her skin and curled into my lungs like smoke. I wanted to mark her with my mouth, press her against the nearest wall and make her beg for the release I denied her the night before. Her thighs had trembled in my hands, and I’d left her there, hot and aching. I hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.

I wanted her. Right here. Right now. In front of all of them.

I placed my hand lower on her waist, fingers splaying possessively against the silk. Mine. She didn’t even flinch, didn’t even glance at me—she had no idea how close I was to losing my goddamn mind.

Every time a man’s gaze lingered a second too long, I felt my jaw tighten, my other hand curling into a fist at my side. I wanted to rip their eyes out. I wanted to mark her in a way none of them would dare look again.

She looked up at me, lips painted the same red as sin, her eyes wide and soft.

"Isn’t this too much?" she asked, barely audible over the hum of music.

Too much? Or rather too fucking perfect.

I could barely breathe.

I leaned in, brushing my lips near the shell of her ear. "You’re stunning firefly," I said, voice low, thick. "And everyone in this room knows it. But remember something, Aria..."

My fingers gripped her waist tighter, just enough to make her pause.

"You walked in with me."

Her breath hitched. Good. Let her feel just a fraction of what I was holding back.

The crowd parted slightly as we entered deeper into the grand room, its walls a blend of dark woods and minimalist gold, sleek in that quiet, expensive way only old money could afford. A waiter passed with a silver tray—I took a glass of Cognac and handed her a delicate flute of champagne.

A few dancers floated by us, their kimono sleeves brushing the air like petals on water, but the heat between us could’ve lit the place on fire.

She glared subtly, not fully aware of the storm brewing in my chest. God, she didn’t even realize how fucking dangerous she was. And how close I was to shattering that careful restraint I wore like armor.

Just then, movement at the far end of the hall caught my eye. A group of men began making their way toward us, smiles too polished, laughter too rehearsed.

The hosts. The circus I studied before attending the party.

I didn’t move my hand from her waist.

"I’m leaving," Aria said, prying my fingers off her like they were a burden.

"Why?" I asked, tightening my hold with a grin. "Not in the mood to play nice?"

She didn’t smile. Just grabbed the front of my suit and yanked me down to her level, eyes like fire.

"I don’t care for the words of bloated, crooked men."

I raised a brow, still smirking. "Is that supposed to include me?"

"Mr. Roman," one of them called, stepping forward with the confidence of someone who thought age came with relevance. "Welcome."

Aria slipped away from my grip and I let her go—but only physically. My eyes followed every tilt of her head, every smile she offered. Her back glistened. A fucking invitation and a warning all at once. And then I turned back to the group of men.

"Maeda-san," I greeted, voice cool, controlled. "Thank you for the invitation."

Kenjiro Maeda, dressed in a deep navy suit, looked me over with open approval. His gaze dipped once, shamelessly, toward Aria.

"Your legacy precedes you, Mr. Roman. You’ve built quite the reputation for someone so... young."

I gave him a polite, hollow smile. "The old world gets tired eventually. Something sharper always takes its place."

The men chuckled, but it didn’t reach their eyes. They were calculating—Daisuke Hayashi with his perfectly sculpted smile, and Shoji Takahiro, who looked like he drank too much and enjoyed control even more.

Hayashi clapped me on the shoulder. "We were just discussing your deal with Shimizu. Brilliant move. Very strategic."

"I’m sure he’s still recovering from it," I replied dryly, sipping my drink.

Maeda leaned in. "There’s talk of expanding into Southeast Asia. With your backing, it could reshape the market. Your father’s name alone—"

"Isn’t mine," I cut in, calm but sharp. "If you want my support, speak to me, not ghosts."

That silenced them for a beat.

Hayashi recovered with a nervous laugh. "Of course, of course. We just... we’d like you in our corner. There’s something else we’d like you to consider."

Maeda gestured discreetly to one of the staff, who nodded and walked off.

"You’re a man of appetite, Mr. Roman," Maeda continued. "We have... a circle. Exclusive. For men who know how to indulge without consequence."

I raised a brow. "You mean a club."

"A private one," Hayashi added, eyes gleaming. "Women, luxury, power. Anything you want."

Maeda, after a sip of his drink, dropped his voice and smirked, "Men of our stature need a place where appetites can be truly fed. We call it ’Kage no Kurabu’—The Shadow Club."

And there it was. The rot beneath the silk.

Shoji Takahiro swirled his brandy and grinned, eyes flicking toward Aria as she stepped aside to scan the room while giving space. Her back was still bare. Her hair up. Her neck delicate.

Maeda chuckled. "You’ve always had an eye, Shoji."

My jaw locked. I turned my head just slightly, angling to keep Aria in view as she accepted a drink from a server. Oblivious. Safe. For now.

"She’s not just eye candy, is she?" Hayashi asked, cocking a brow. "She had the look of a woman who bites back."

I gave a slow nod. "She does. Which is why none of you would survive her."

They laughed, but I didn’t join.

"She’d be quite the addition," Shoji said casually. "Tight little thing. If you ever get tired of her, send her our way."

The silence that followed was loud.

I turned my head slowly, fixing my gaze on him. Took another sip of my whiskey. Let the ice clink softly.

"Speak of her like that again," I said, voice low, "and you’ll spend the rest of your miserable life drinking through a tube."

His smirk faltered. I stepped forward, just enough to make him flinch.

"She’s not your type anyway," I added. "She has standards. And a thing for men who don’t have to pay for obedience."

The air turned cold. The others looked away, shifting awkwardly.

Then—Niko. Always on time.

He appeared at my shoulder, murmuring low. "It’s Colonel Elias. He’s on the line. Says it’s urgent."

I didn’t look at him.

I didn’t look at the men either.

I just turned—slowly—allowing my eyes to find Aria again across the room. Still radiant. Still mine.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," I said, voice like silk laced with steel.

And then I walked away—because when you’re me, you don’t need to prove a thing. But you sure as hell make them remember it.

I didn’t stop walking until the door clicked shut behind me, sealing the ballroom off like a vault.

Niko was already dialing.

I stood in silence, the burn of my earlier fury still simmering just under the surface. My hands itched—not with rage, but with restraint. I didn’t lay one of those men out because I didn’t want to draw attention. Not tonight. Not when Aria was in the same room.

"He’s on," Niko said, holding out the phone.

I took it, pressed it to my ear.

"Colonel."

"Kael," Elias replied. "Are you in the country?"

"No. What’s this about?"

"It’s... personal. And sensitive. I’d rather discuss in person."

"I don’t have time for vague games. Niko can handle it."

"No," he said firmly. "This is about your friend. The one I saw with you the last time."

My jaw locked.

Friend?

It clicked.

Aria.

My blood ran cold.

"What about her?" I asked quietly.

Elias hesitated.

"You’ll want to hear this in private. Trust me."

My grip on the phone tightened. If this man brought her name into his mouth, there better be a damn good reason.

My patience thinned.

I glanced at Niko who stood rigid waiting for my command. "Keep an eye on Aria." I ordered and immediately he headed back to the room.

I turned my attention back to Elias. "Start talking. Now."