Page 107 of The Dragon 2
The driver had jumped inside, pulled the car away from the curb, and was now following us several feet behind.
Zo laughed. “Your trip to Tokyo has become a soap opera. I just keep running out of popcorn.”
Then came more.
Two other guards appeared from seemingly nowhere—one eating onigiri like he wasn’t also carrying a gun under his jacket, the other pretending to scroll through his phone. By the time we reached the end of the block, there were four more guards trailing us.
Nonchalant.
Talking softly.
Laughing even.
Wow, Kenji. Just wow.
We continued toward the station.
Omotesando shimmered in the morning light, all soft gold and architectural flex. Glass storefronts sparkled mannequins posedin couture worth more than my student loans. The sidewalks teemed with Tokyo’s fashion elite—pastel-haired influencers, men in oversized suits and leather skirts, women gliding in stilettos that defied physics.
Avant-garde boutiques flanked the sleek sidewalks. Models smoked while leaning on expensive cars.
A man in a silver jumpsuit and neon pink heels posed by a koi fountain as a photographer crouched beside a vintage Vespa.
Basically, Zo fit right into this scene, while I looked like I was headed to a library protest.
And yet. . . I smiled.
Zo glanced over his shoulder. “Well. . .”
“What?”
“The guards. The driver tracking our moves. Surely, this is what Beyonce feels like.”
“I’m sure it’s on a bolder level than this.”
“Either way, we should discuss the fact that if this is how the Dragon actsbeforesex, then you should prepare for a nationwide blackout and a full kidnapping.”
I snorted. “What?”
“I’m serious. I probably shouldn’t tell you this but. . .you were good in bed when we had our thing, but now. . .” He looked me up and down. “Now you got that old woman pussy.”
“Oh my God.”
Zo shrugged. “The pussy has now aged. It’s marinated in wisdom. By now, you probably got a Michelin star on the pussy.”
I nearly doubled over laughing. “A Michelin star?”
“Hell yes. By your age, the pussy should be a culinary experience.”
“You are stupid.”
“Yes, but I’m right.” He held up a finger. “When a woman gets a certain age, they’re able to turn the average man out. Have him cooking dinner with their name carved into a carrot.”
“No one has ever carved my name into a carrot.”
“Still, we may need to put some protections in place.”
“Protections?”
