THE EXCHANGE IZANA KUROKAWA X Y/N READER

DINNER PARTY ALLIANCE

Y/n Pov:

The room was filled with the familiar scent of sandalwood and the soft glow of dimmed lights as I stood in front of the mirror, preparing for my grandfather's Yakuza dinner party. The soft fabric of my dress slid across my skin as I adjusted it, making sure it fell just right.

The beautiful pattern reminded me of the strength and grace I hoped to embody as the young Yakuza queen.

Lost in my thoughts, I was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. Izana, my husband, stepped into the glamorous dressing room, holding a delicate diamond necklace in his hands. His normally confident demeanor faltered as he looked at me with sadness in his eyes.

"I hope you can forgive me, baby," he said softly, carefully placing the necklace around my neck. "Are you still mad at me?"

I turned to face him, my expression neutral. "I'm not the one whose forgiveness you need to worry about," I replied, my voice laced with a hint of warning. Izana knew that my brother and grandmother were furious about his recent affair with his ex-girlfriend, Manila.

Drawing him into a tight embrace, I rested my head against his chest and whispered, "I forgive you, Izana. But you have a long way to go in earning back the trust that was shattered."

Tears welled up in his eyes as he held me tightly. He murmured words of love and remorse, promising to make it up to me. I believed him, but only time would truly tell if our relationship could weather this storm.

As we stood locked in each other's arms, passion threatened to consume us. Izana's hands started wandering, trying to undress me, but I gently pushed him away with a playful smile.

"We're going to be late," I teased, my voice filled with mirth. His pleading eyes bore into mine, still craving intimacy.

"Please, just fifteen minutes alone. You're turning me on," he begged, his voice dripping with desire.

I giggled, leaning in to steal a kiss. "Later, my love," I whispered against his lips. "But for now, we have more important matters to attend to."

Reluctantly, we broke apart and finished preparing ourselves for the evening. Our four nine-month-old quadruplets were left in the care of my mother and Aunt Angela, both of whom had made it clear they wanted no involvement in Yakuza business. It was a decision we respected, shielding the innocent lives from the brutality of our world.

Arriving at the dinner party, I spotted my sisters, Phoebe and Bridgette, standing near the entrance. I ran over to greet them, excitement bubbling within me.

"Hey sis, where are the twins?" Phoebe asked Bridgette, curiosity evident in her voice.

"They're with mom and Aunt Angela, along with Y/n's quads," Bridgette replied, a comforting smile on her face. The bond between the three of us was unbreakable, united both by blood and our shared Yakuza heritage.

Turning to Phoebe, I couldn't help but inquire about her pregnancy. "How's your pregnancy, Phoebe? Are the triplets going to be girls or boys?"

Phoebe giggled, her hand resting on her growing belly. "They're fine, and we don't know their genders yet," she replied, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "But deep down, I hope they're all boys."

Phoebe's boyfriend, Manjiro, appeared behind her, accompanied by his brother, Izana. They joined in the conversation, jokingly imagining the chaos of Phoebe giving birth to a trio of boys.

"I can't wait to see the look on Phoebe's face when her nephews pop out, and Manjiro starts teaching them how to fight before they can talk," Izana chuckled, clearly entertained by the image.