The trader

It always surprised me where my business would take me. One day, I was sipping champagne on a yacht in international waters, watching kings and criminals swap secrets. Today, it was somewhere quieter—but no less dangerous.

I pulled into the parking lot of a glitzy, low-lit establishment, the kind that smelled like money, sex, and expensive regret. Stepping out of my car, I barely had time to straighten my jacket before a mountain of a man blocked my path. Tattoos snaked up his arms, and his expression could have made a brick wall flinch.

“You better have good reason for being here,” he said, his English clipped but clear.

I raised my hands, keeping my tone light.

“I do.” I flipped through my notes, just for show. “I’m here to meet Daisuke and Takuya.”

He squinted, suspicious.

“You an American?”

I nodded, smiling easy.

“Born and raised. I specialize in moving rare, exotic, and priceless goods between parties—without involving U.S. dollars. Discreetly.”

He stepped closer, the air thickening between us—until a smooth, commanding voice slid in.

“Leave him alone, Takashi.”

The man stiffened, turning, and I took the opportunity to step around him. That’s when I saw her.

A young woman with striking silver hair and a figure that could make priests reconsider their vows strolled toward me. Her hips swayed lazily, her eyes full of trouble—and the kind of heat you don’t walk away from unscathed.

“You’re not from around here,” she teased, stopping close enough that I caught a hint of vanilla and danger on her skin.

I nodded, my gaze shameless.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” I said, not even trying to filter myself.

She smiled, slow and pleased, before turning to Takashi.

“I’ll watch him. Go stand guard for the bosses’ boyfriend,” she said, her tone dripping with amusement. Takashi grumbled under his breath but obeyed, casting one last warning look my way.

Without missing a beat, the woman grabbed my wrist—her touch light but deliberate—and pulled me toward the door.

“Name’s Sana,” she said, glancing at me from under thick lashes. “And you, stranger, owe me one.”

Still dazed from the way her hand fit against mine, I managed,

“Danzaborou… but call me Danzo.”

She laughed, a soft, wicked sound that curled around me like smoke.

“Danzo, huh? Cute.” She smiles as she guides me but my eyes are glued to her vile waist and ass. Sana purrs saying,” Take a picture—it’ll last longer,” she teased, catching me staring.

Feeling bolder, I let my gaze sweep her figure again—slow, deliberate.

“What if I want more than a picture?” I said, my voice low. “What’s your price?”

Sana stopped abruptly, forcing me to stop too. She turned, dragging her fingers lightly down my chest, the touch leaving a trail of fire.

“You couldn’t afford me,” she said, voice dropping to a whisper that brushed against my lips.

I leaned in just a little closer, smirking.

“I deal in rare treasures,” I murmured. “I pay well.”

She chuckled darkly, her fingers still lingering on me.

“Oh? In what currency?” she teased, tilting her head. “Dollars? Diamonds? Or maybe something a little more… intimate?”

I arched a brow, loving how she played the game.

“I’m fluent in several forms of payment,” I said, letting my voice dip low. “You just have to name your price.”

Sana laughed, a sound so rich it sent shivers down my spine. She leaned in, her lips a breath away from mine.

“Maybe I’ll let you make me an offer later,” she whispered. “If you impress me.”

She pulled back, her fingers sliding away from my chest way too slowly, before adding with a smirk,

“Finish your business first, Danzo… then meet me upstairs. Second floor. I’ll be waiting.”

She gave me one last, lingering look—like she was already imagining how I might pay up—then turned and disappeared into the dark velvet interior of the club, leaving my pulse hammering in my ears.

Yeah. Business could wait. Sana had just made sure of that.

I nodded as Sana glided away, unable to stop my eyes from following the hypnotic sway of her hips as she ascended the stairs. Her body moved with the kind of effortless confidence that could start wars. Halfway up, she glanced back over her shoulder, locking eyes with me. A slow, knowing smile curved her lips, and with a playful flick of her fingers, she gave a little shooing motion.

It snapped me out of my trance, reluctantly reminding me I still had business to handle.

The Weeknd’s “Cry for Me” pulsed through the speakers, the heavy beat thudding in time with my racing pulse as I made my way deeper into the club. The atmosphere inside was thick—dim lights, velvet booths, the faint haze of expensive cigars. Even as I moved toward my goal, I couldn’t help but glance up to the second floor every few steps, where Sana had disappeared like a forbidden promise.

Focus, Danzo. Business first.

I found Takuya and Daisuke posted up at the bar, laughing and sloppily clinking glasses. They looked a few drinks past sober, deep in the kind of rich-boy debauchery only people with too much money and too little responsibility could pull off.

Behind the bar, I spotted someone I hadn’t seen in years—Aeri Uchinaga, though everyone here seemed to know her better as Giselle. She hadn’t changed much: same mischievous eyes, same quick smile. Her gaze landed on me, widening in surprise.

“Danzo?” she gasped, blinking like she wasn’t sure she was seeing right. She leaned over the bar slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I jerked a thumb toward the two businessmen, grinning.

“Work,” I said simply.