The Dragon's Reluctant Bride

By: Serena Rose

A Paranormal Dragon Shifter Romance

Chapter One

It was raining one late Friday night and I was sitting at my desk in my Tokyo office, phone in hand, searching for a date for that night. Nope, too plain. Nope, too skinny. Nope, waaay too young looking. I didn’t want to bring any undue attention to myself, due to the nature of my work.

My name is Shinno Kintaro, or you can just call me Kintaro, which is my given name. I’m the top ranking member of the Dragon Clan of the Yakuza crime syndicate. I was awarded this auspicious position when I hit eighteen years of age, right after my father died. When I was eighteen, my uncle took me to the ancient Horishi to get the enchanted dragon irezumi placed on my back, marking me as one of the elites of the Dragon clan.

I swiped again, still no, and again. I figured in Tokyo, there would be at least someone interesting on this hookup app. Ugh. No…no…holy shit, come on. I would like to get laid tonight. It’s been what, two days now? I thought.

I decided I would give it one more swipe before calling for an escort. Whoa! Who is that? The picture was of a very tall, sultry redhead, and according to her bio, an American Expat who has been in Tokyo on business for a few years now. She had curves in all the right places, too. Thick in the waist, I loved that in a woman for some reason, just drove me wild. I really liked what I saw so I swiped the other way.

I closed my eyes and listened to the rain pour down on my office window, hoping that it was a match. The wait for the match was almost too much to bear so I started to pick up my phone to dial the escort agency I usually frequented and I felt it buzz in my hand.

I unlocked the screen and saw that we matched! I sent her a quick text asking her if she wanted to meet at a certain Karaoke bar that my associates run. I didn’t have to tell her that, but at least it’s small, out of the way and pretty intimate. Granted, I’d have to tell the bouncer that she could be allowed in, since no non-Japanese people are allowed past the doors, but whatever.

My phone buzzed again and she agreed to meet. It was a public place, she said, so she felt safe. Worked for me. He he he.

I sent an email to my associates, informing that I was not to be disturbed for the evening. I was going to be out of the office and my phone would be turned off as well. I didn’t want anything getting in the way of this.

I stood up and put on my blazer. I was wearing a rather thin, white shirt due to the warm Tokyo summer, and it was damp with sweat, so I guessed my tattoo would be showing through. That was unacceptable.

I needed to blend in with the crowd, and not point out that there was a criminal mastermind bad ass there. I went down the elevator and nodded at my receptionist on the way out. I exited the glass doors to my office building and walked down the dark Tokyo streets.

Despite it being nearly eleven at night, the streets were still congested with orderly traffic as people were starting to head home from the office. Sounds strange, I know, but people in Tokyo don’t keep a standard nine to five schedule. They go in bright and early, and go home super late. It’s all part of the work ethic. Seems rather drab to me, but I’m not your typical Japanese guy.

As I walked, I realized I’ve been breaking tradition my whole life. My dad wanted me, as his first born, to follow in his footsteps, but I rebelled the entire way. Yeah, the Yakuza were fun, but they were just as bound by tradition as the rest of the country. After I took control of the Dragon clan, I made some pretty sweeping changes, some of which didn’t sit well with the old guard. There were some traditions, though, that they didn’t want to change, but those wouldn’t affect me.

I turned down the alley where the bar was located and stepped in.

“Hey, Yaza, how’s it going?” I greeted the bouncer.

“Not bad. Great ball game on tonight, Tigers vs the Stars. You might want to talk to the bartender to get a bet in.”

“Thanks. Oh, by the way, there’s going to be a tall, American red head knocking on the door tonight, be sure to let her in, she’s with me.”

Yaza smirked and winked at me. “You’re always after the foreigners. You definitely like the exotic ones, huh?”

“Well, the standard submissive girl that’s around doesn’t really do it for me. I’ve heard stories of red heads and I want to see if they’re true.” Which was true. Sure, I travelled around the world, but out of all the women I slept with, not a single one was a ginger. Not a one.

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