"You seem in a particularly good mood today. Something to celebrate?" Darren narrowed his eyes, strolled up to Stussy, plucked a cigarette from her table, lit it, and grinned.
He knew the three looks women gave him.
First: naked, burning desire—the kind he'd seen in desperate noblewomen, wealthy merchants' wives, and princesses of the North Blue. With them, he'd always been generous with his nights.
Well, except for that lunatic Big Mom, obsessed with childbirth.
Second: admiration and reverence, sometimes shy, sometimes tentative—more common among young princesses or junior female Marines. He humored them, the dream lover who kept them awake.
Third: love, soft and blazing. He'd seen that in Toki's eyes, in Gion's.
But the Queen of the Pleasure District possessed a fourth gaze altogether.
Annoyed, resentful, fiery, lustful—its shade changed with the moment. And now it held the smug confidence he'd glimpsed the first time they met, when she'd planned to bleed him for intel with charm and a Devil Fruit's edge. The look of a hunter watching helpless prey.
"Didn't I make myself clear?" Stussy's eyes slid over him, lazy and enticing. A soft laugh escaped her. "It's been so long. I'm delighted Vice Admiral Darren has graced me with his presence…"
She crossed her legs with a hint of triumph. The black business suit traced every line; the room breathed the aura of a mature professional in absolute command. She propped her cheek on a manicured hand and drew on her cigarette, a stray lock falling across her face—sensual power wrapped in a haze of smoke.
"No need to waste time," Darren said. His gaze dipped to her heels; a smile cut across his face. He stepped in and tipped her chin up with a teasing finger.
"W-what do you think you're doing?" Her composure cracked; her eyes flicked between his face and the Marine before her. For no good reason, the abandoned warehouse at Marine Headquarters flooded back—the CP0 masks and uniforms, muffled breath, the bite of cold shackles. She barely remembered how she'd staggered out. Only that she'd slept two days to stand again.
Now his handsome, unrestrained face was close, the dry warmth of tobacco on his breath. Stussy's throat tightened.
"Y-you promised… before the bet was settled…"
"I know."
His voice, deep as a devil's whisper, grazed her ear. "Last time was an accident."
"Despicable, shameless, smoker, drinker, greedy, lustful—sure. But I live by one creed."
"My word is my bond. That's my justice."
She rolled her eyes, but a breath of relief slipped free.
Then his restless hand ghosted along her cheek and her body went taut. "T-then what now?" she grated.
Darren's smile turned wicked. His gaze slid to her feet—pale, exquisite, capped in peep-toe heels. Through the open toes, the lacquered nails glowed a vivid crimson, flawless as something carved by a god.
Stussy went still, color rising to her ears.
Pervert.
She was about to refuse when that familiar phrase brushed her ear again.
"You don't want to…"
---
Twenty minutes later, Darren lounged on the leather sofa, blowing a lazy ring of smoke. Stussy, seething, eased her feet back into her heels, teeth set.
That bastard. Is he even a real Marine? How does he know so many decadent little games?
What burned worst was that he wouldn't let her clean up. The grit in her shoes only sharpened the humiliation; her face had hardened into a murderous mask.
What a perverse sense of humor.
"So what do you really want?" she snapped, fists clenched, cheeks still flushed. She fixed him with a stare that promised blood.
"Mmm, that's better," Darren said, amused, watching her toss caution aside. "What's wrong? Weren't you delighted to see me a moment ago?"
"Happy now? I jumped the gun. Just spit it out."
So there was no point being polite with this shameless man. He offered her none.
"No big deal," Darren said. "I came to check on our little wager."
A cool smile curved Stussy's lips. "Already nervous? Understandable. The Government has ordered a full investigation into the assassinations of Shichibukai candidates. Some people must be sweating."
"Oh, I'm feeling the heat," Darren sighed theatrically. "As the lead investigator, if I don't solve the case, I'm in trouble. Pressure—no, the fire under me—is intense."
Stussy stared, speechless.
Pressure? You're the killer, damn it.
She ground her molars, choking down the urge to explode. Just a little longer.
His insufferable grin made her want to leap across the desk and claw that face to ribbons. Keep laughing, you bastard.
Just wait until I get Doflamingo into the Shichibukai. We'll see who's laughing then.
To be continued...