Sayuri had never seen a man that large, he looked like a rigid mountain as he sat there waiting for his bride. One thing she would dread in this yakuza world is to get married to a yakuza as scary and ruthless as him. She had heard of him, everyone has. He killed his own father to take over the syndicate. Not to mention he is the youngest yet the most ruthless leader of yakuza the history has ever noted. But to sayuri's horror this man was going to be her husband, more like her owner. This wasn't a love marriage, not even an arranged marriage, it was a forced marriage. The only way to save her clan from being massacred by the beast sitting few feets across her trembling frame. She was scared, hell she was horrified to be in his presence. The women dragged her by hand and made her sit beside that beast, and Sayuri couldn't dare look up at his face, her head was lowered and her gaze fell on his muscular veiny hands, clenched over his thighs, his hands rough, calloused and reeks of murder and blood. Sayuri's gaze travels to her own hands, soft, delicate and feminine which were just few moments ago plucking flowers from her precious garden. "Hell, this was a match made in hell" she thought.