Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 115388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“Not a diamond cage though. And a peacock feather? What the fuck?”
“When the Dragon starts World War III over you, I will say I told you so. Loudly. Repeatedly. And I may even put it on a shirt.”
I chuckled as we approached the station.
The train entrance was subtle—modern lines of steel and tile descending underground like the mouth of a discreet luxury bunker.
Zo led the way down the stairs.
And, of course, the guards followed and got closer to us.
This is crazy.
We approached the ticket machines.
Zo reached for his card.
One of the guards beat him to it, slid his own card, paid for us both, and then bowed slightly.
Zo blinked. “I’ve never felt so insulted and pampered at the same time.”
“I guess we have to get used to this?” I took my ticket and walked through.
The turnstiles clicked.
The guards filed in behind us, moving smooth as shadows.
Down in the station, a few commuters stared at our ridiculous crew—one nerdy Black woman, one high-fashion white guy in gold glasses, and four-armed, tattooed yakuza men.
On the platform, things got worse.
The train arrived.
We got on.
So did the guards. They didn’t touch anyone. They didn’t speak. But they radiated danger in a language that needed no translation.
A group of schoolgirls near the door burst into a fit of giggles when they caught sight of Zo and me. Their giggles died fast when they spotted my guards’ inked wrists and necks. One of the girls whispered something, and they all inched away.
Five salarymen—clean-cut, in navy suits and lanyards—spotted us and immediately chose the opposite end of the train. One actually stepped back out of the car before the doors closed, muttering a quiet, panicked curse.
An old woman three seats down hissed under her breath and clutched her purse. Her eyes never left the guards.
In Japan, tattoos weren’t art. They were warnings. Centuries of symbolism etched in ink. Symbols of the underworld. Codes of violence and obedience.
Even the bathhouses posted signs banning inked guests like it was a biohazard.
This meant that no matter how polite, how perfectly groomed these men were, the stories on their skin broadcasted one thing—we kill for a living.
By the next station, the area around us resembled a quarantine zone. An entire third of the train car remained mysteriously empty.
People gave us side-eyes like we were riding with a bomb instead of bodyguards.
And honestly? They weren’t wrong.
This is really going to take some time to get used to.
The train rumbled beneath us—smooth but insistent. Every turn made the handrails rattle.
Overhead, a soft robotic voice announced the next stop in perfect Japanese and clipped English. I held onto the hanging strap and tried not to overthink the whole situation.
Across from me, Zo leaned against the wall and had one hand lazily gripping the overhead bar.
Further in the train, an old man dozed beside a briefcase, a high school girl chewed gum and scrolled her phone, and two friends whispered behind surgical masks.
One of Kenji’s guards sat three feet away, pretending not to watch me, but I knew better. If I tripped and fell, he would catch me before I hit the ground.
Wow.
Zo whistled a few stray notes from some sexy jazz number. “Have you thought of what your date is going to be yet?”
“I’m still thinking.”
“What do you need from me?”
“To help pull any powerful strings you have. I definitely need a space to have the date.”
“I bet you do.”
“It has to be private, but in my budget. Still, it should be beautiful. The kind of place where no one would expect a woman like me to take the Dragon.”
Zo chuckled. “I love it when you get like this.”
“Like what?”
“Plotting. Dangerous. Hot.” He winked. “You want to flip the dynamic, don’t you?”
“I do.”
The train picked up speed, humming beneath our feet.
The tunnel lights blurred in streaks of white and gray, flashing past the windows.
I got closer to Zo. “I want to shift the power dynamics between us.”
“In what way?”
“I want to make him kneel.”
“And you think I’m crazy?”
“I don’t think it’s crazy to want this.”
“You want the scariest man in this country to. . .kneel?”
I swallowed, then nodded slowly. “I want to be in control, so I want this date to say that.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
“You know. . .dominate him.”
Zo’s eyes widened. “Oh. You mean like. . .BDSM?”
I blinked.
He caught it. “What? Too far?”
“I don’t know if I want to go that far.”
“You either do or you don’t.”
“I kind of want to. . .but BDSM comes with rules and contracts and. . .I don’t know anything about that world.”
He tapped his chin. “Then maybe you two could learn together. I know people in the community here. It could be fun.”
“Oh my God.” I gripped the pole harder as the train swayed. “A BDSM second date? That would be crazy.”
“Why?”
“Because this whole time with him I’ve been all like, let’s slow down and take our time—”