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I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop smiling. Twenty-eight million dollars in additional guarantees. A signature collection. More money for Baltimore. And a client who was about to get everything he’d worked his ass off for. Mercer Sports had done exactly what it came to Tokyo to do.

Juvie and I decided we’d have a celebratory dinner. We’d already gone back to the hotel to change, and now we were seated in a private dining room at The Oak Door. Juvie put this shit together himself. He wouldn’t even tell me where we were going. This man had security running around like the Secret Service, a private entrance, and all kinds of shit. I didn’t complain, though. We’d been seen on camera together enough times for me to let him handle this.

The lighting was warm and inviting. Juvie had these people bring out an entire wine selection for me to choose from. It was intimate. Like he wanted me to himself, and it worked. Now, he sat across from me, dressed in a black silk button-down, the first few buttons undone, exposing the diamond chain resting against his chest. Every time he smiled, those gold grills reminded me this nigga had absolutely no business being this fine.

Juvie sipped the wine, then set it back down. “You like that wine? This shit dry as fuck.”

I looked up from my menu as this man guzzled his water. He kept lifting the bottle, looking at the label like that was gonna change the taste.

“Different wines get paired with different food, Juvie. Try the other one.”

“Nah, I’m good on that. They got some Henny in this mufucka? I ain’t drinkin’ that shit, Juicy.”

I chuckled, then took a sip of my wine. “Henny in Tokyo is crazy. Why do you act like this?”

The waiter walked over, ready to take our orders.

“Have you two decided on starters? Are you enjoying the wine selection?” the waiter asked.

“For my appetizer, I’ll take the crab cakes, and for my main, the grilled Suzuki,” I said and set my menu down.

“And for you, Mr. Ross?” the waiter asked.

“Yeah, I don’t need an appetizer. Gimme the Tomahawk, medium. And uh, the Caesar salad.” He handed over his menu. “And let me get a Hennessy neat.”

I shook my head. “You are so predictable.”

“What I do now?”

“We are literally in Japan, Juvie. You ain’t gon’ try nothing new?”

“And I’m hungry as fuck, Juicy. The fuck that gotta do wit’ where we at?”

I burst out laughing. “You right.”

The waiter stood there, trying so hard not to laugh. “Will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said, handing her my menu.

She walked away, then Juvie looked up at me and smiled.

“Why are you smiling so damn hard?”

“What you mean? Ain’t we supposed to be celebratin’?”

“Yeah,” I said and took another sip of my wine. “This is just the happiest I’ve seen you since we got here.”

He rubbed his beard, a grin tugging at his lips. “I got plenty reasons to be happy. You should too.”

“I do. I just got you a crazy ass deal. It’s more coming, because you know I’m always on the hunt. You ain’t gon’ have no free time, Mr. Ross.”

“You ever get tired of takin’ care of everybody else’s dreams, Juicy? What about you? You got dreams outside of Mercer Sports?”

I froze for a second. No one had ever asked me that. Of course, I had other dreams outside of my business. But it made me a lot of money. I was excellent at what I did, and it fed my competitive spirit.

“I think we all have dreams outside of our careers. But this is where I am right now, and I love it. Do I get tired? Of course. But I ain’t never too tired to get some money.”

His tongue ran across his bottom lip as he stared at me. “Nah… That’s superficial shit. Take the money off the table, boss lady. What do you want?”