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Chuuya scowled across the table at his guest. The bar was nearly deserted. That is, if you didn’t count the dozens of bodyguards the other man had brought with him. To make matter worse, he wasn’t even a business partner. Just a slimy business man, a CEO named Yamamoto, stupid enough to try extorting the Port Mafia.
So, instead of enjoying an evening off, Chuuya had been sent here to negotiate. He was feeling irritated, to say the least.
“I didn’t realize I would be entertaining so many this evening,” he growled.
“Your reputation would hardly allow me to come alone.”
Chuuya didn’t reply.
“In fact I’m honoured,” the man continued, “to be speaking to an executive.”
“Just spit it out – how much are you asking for?” Chuuya had many strengths, but finesse was not one of them.
On the other side of the bar, the bartender laughed quietly to himself. Chuuya shot him a suspicious glance. A tall dark haired man in a formal black button-up shirt, his head bent as he polished wine glasses. Kouyou had recommended this bar for its discretion, so Chuuya had little doubt he was on the mafia’s payroll. Still, he didn’t like being spied on.
“I was thinking 8,000,000 yen would be sufficient.”
Chuuya’s mind snapped back to the task at hand.
“Huh? You’re asking that much to wipe a couple of security cameras?”
It had been unfortunate, really. The mafia usually managed to bribe the security companies themselves whenever their activities were recorded. However, the owner of the company whose buildings’ cameras had recorded them this time had insisted on doing his own security.
Chuuya narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think I can’t just force you to? You don’t look like the type to handle interrogation well.”
Yamamoto laughed nervously, eyes flickering to his bodyguards. “Even you can’t dodge bullets.”
Chuuya grinned. That sounded like a challenge.
A few minutes later, all the bodyguards lay on the ground – limbs contorted in various unhealthy positions. Shattered glass and upturned chairs and tables littered the floor.
Chuuya stood over the businessman, breathing heavily. “What was that about the cameras?”
All the colour was drained out of Yamamoto’s face. “I’ll – I’ll make a call.”
“Do it now,” Chuuya snarled.
One phone call later, and the man was scrambling to get out before Chuuya changed his mind about letting him go.
“My, my, what a mess you’ve left me.”
Chuuya turned his glare on the bartender.
“Will you be having anything to drink tonight, sir?” The bartender looked up, his brown eyes glittering mischievously.
“I’m not in the mood,” Chuuya said, stepping over the men on the floor to collect his jacket and hat.
“Ah that’s a pity. I think I know what would relax you.” He set a bottle of golden liqueur on the bar. Chuuya paused when he read the label.
“Cognac?”
“Imported from France.”
It was tempting. Very tempting. But… Chuuya sighed.
“I’ll have to take you up on that some other time. Right now, I have to report this to the boss.”
The bartender looked disappointed. “Of course, sir. I’ll be here every evening.”
Chuuya swept through the door, leaving the orange glow of the bar – and several bodies – behind.
~
It was a week later when he remembered the offer. It had truly been a crappy day. Almost being kidnapped tended to do that.
He’d drawn a bath for himself, but for some reason, lying there in the water and trying to relax had lost all its appeal. If he closed his eyes, he immediately felt jumpy – like someone was pulling a bag over his head all over again. Lucky for him Black Lizard hadn’t been too far away.
He had a strange craving for cognac…
Chuuya sat up suddenly, splashing water all over the floor. He’d remembered the bottle, and the young man who’d offered it to him. That settled it. He couldn’t sit in his apartment by himself anymore. He threw on a formal enough red shirt and black pants, grabbing his jacket on his way out. And his hat – he never left home without it.
The establishment was similarly deserted when he stepped through the door for the second time.
Tachihara from Black Lizard was nursing his own drink at the table in the far corner, his knuckles wrapped in bandages from earlier today. Chuuya felt more secure with the combatant there. Tachihara saw his superior enter and looked at him questioningly – the corner table was the safest location in the establishment, and it belonged to Chuuya if he asked for it. Chuuya motioned with his hand for him to keep it. He was going for the bar.
The bartender’s eyes followed him as he took a seat on one of the stools, his expression unreadable.
“Welcome back, Nakahara-sama,” he said. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t be returning.”
“It was too tempting an offer.” Chuuya rested his chin on his hand. “But don’t give me too much – I’m really not in the mood to get drunk.” He wanted a clear head after almost being drugged and carted away. That would have been embarrassing.
The man inclined his head, reaching under the counter to procure a small glass and the bottle of French brandy. Chuuya stared at his face as he worked. He was not unattractive – quite the opposite. He had long eyelashes for a man. His hair fell in soft curls around his face, but his jawline was sharp enough to cut.
“What’s your name?” Chuuya couldn’t help his curiosity.
“Dazai, sir.”
Dazai was now pouring the cognac into the glass, stopping halfway. No ice – brandy was supposed to be drunk at room temperature or warmer.
“Dazai, how did you know I liked French beverages?”
Dazai smiled. “This bar is popular with the Port Mafia. I’m not just paid for my discretion, I’m paid to overhear things.”
Chuuya took the glass in his hand. “So you were spying one me.”
“It’s my job to spy on people,” he replied without missing a beat.
Of course, an information agent would probably pick up information about members of the organization. He shouldn’t read into it.
Chuuya took a sip, letting out a small sound of surprise. It was good. He felt a pleasant warm sensation as the alcohol trickled down his throat. Dazai grinned at his reaction.
“How much is this costing me?” he asked dryly.
“It’s my treat.”
“Why, is it poisoned?” Chuuya took another sip to indicate the accusation wasn’t serious. What reasons could the other man have to buy him a drink? A very expensive drink, no less.
“I don’t deal in poisons. Only distractions.”
Tch. What a smooth talker.
“May I?” Dazai reached for the bottle.
“Why not?” Chuuya shrugged. “You’re the one paying for it.”
Dazai poured himself a half a glass. Chuuya watched him take it between his long fingers, swirling the golden liquid. He waited until the dark haired man had taken a few sips before asking:
“Is this how you normally get information out of people? By drinking with them?”
“Oh I never share drinks with customers. That would be unprofessional.”
Chuuya snorted. “What does that make me then? Your superior?”
“Well I do hear how well you treat those who work under you.” Dazai smirked at him, then drained the rest of his glass in one long, drawn-out gulp.
Chuuya was suddenly incredibly aware of Tachihara’s presence in the room.
He took a too-big sip of the liqueur, trying not to cough as it burned its way down his throat. Dazai’s smirk grew wider, as if he knew exactly what kind of thoughts were running through his head… God, he wanted to run his fingers through those curls, see the skin that lay underneath those coal-black clothes.
Chuuya was spared from the embarrassment of trying to dismiss Tachihara, who with a small bow, took his leave.
That left Chuuya alone with the very attractive bartender. Dazai was eying him lazily, no longer putting up a professional façade. He had him all to himself… it felt intimate in a way that made Chuuya's heart beat faster.
Chuuya went to take the last sip, but Dazai had leaned forward to put one finger on the rim of the glass, pressing it back down. His brown eyes looked hungry. Chuuya felt his face grow warm, and told himself it was because of the alcohol.
“So,” Chuuya said, breathing more quickly. “You’re interested in… a position under me?”
“I’m interested in several.” Dazai replied smugly. “If you think you’re up for it.”
Chuuya felt a flare of excitement in his stomach. Then suspicion. Being in the mafia did tend to complicate such matters… well, he’d settle this the way he normally did.
Chuuya grabbed the man by the collar, forcing him to bend over the bar, and brought his knife up to the other man’s neck. Dazai’s eyes narrowed, but he made no move to resist.
“Where were you hiding that knife? Up your-“
“What do you really want?”
Dazai chuckled even as the blade shifted closer to his throat. “I’m not trying to gather information, if that’s what you mean. You caught my eye on your previous visit.”
“So you want me to fuck you, is that it?”
Dazai laughed again. “Straight to the point. Well in truth, I figured I’d end up receiving but I’m open to either. That is, if there’s not a knife at my throat.”
Chuuya released him. “Sorry. I have to take certain precautions. It won’t happen again.”
Dazai didn’t rise, choosing instead to lean his elbows against the bar. “Ever the gentleman. Is that what you’re like in bed, too?”
Now that the interrogation was over, Chuuya felt the heat returning to his face. Dazai seemed like quite a handful. Chuuya wasn’t sure he’d ever been with someone so… hungry. Well, Chuuya was hungry too. He grinned back.
“Why don’t you come with me and find out?”