Chapter 1: Introduction
Dio walked into the dimly lit, narrow-aisled sports bar, Detective's Dive. The name in red neon script warmed the small venue with a welcoming glow. Shiny mahogany enveloped the place like liquid affection, and jazz clarinet notes escaped from the aptly placed, plastic jukebox in the farthest corner. The scent of stale beer filled the room, mixing with a thrilling anticipation brewing for the night. The place pulsed with a familiar energy, and each secluded corner harbored an unknown mystery.
The bar was packed with an excited crowd of all ages, backgrounds, and walks of life. Their welcoming chatter fell away as they sized each other up, anticipating the battles ahead.
Dio scanned the scene and saw her. Nana. Dressed in her blue and white wrestling uniform at the counter, long black hair cascading deliciously down her shoulders. Her focused, almost-terrifying, expression testified to the intense training she put herself through every day.
Her strong, slender body conveyed discipline and athletic prowess. Dio felt a ceremonious shiver, a sublime frisson of curiosity, and a tickle of desire.
Nana glanced at Dio and offered a quick, tight smile, sipping her beer deeply. He approached her slowly, feeling the electrically charged air forming a halo around them. Her penetrating gaze stopped him in his tracks, locking Dio into an instant connection with his opponent of the evening. The uncertainty was anything but a turn-off.
In fact, it made Dio feel more alive than he had in a long while. Nana had this strangely bewitching presence—and it wasn't only about her striking appearance—there was a depth to her, something in her eyes he desperately wanted to dive into and explore.
She studied him carefully, unblinking. "You're nervous."
"Aren't you?"
"Mm-hmm." A slight smirk crept onto her lips.
"Maybe I am. But not for the reasons you might think."
"Really?" Dio leaned into the bar, mirroring her pose. The sudden nearness of her sent a ripple of pleasure through him. "Let's hear it."
She shifted, eyeing him leisurely, as if deciding just how much she wanted to reveal. "Well," she began, drawing out the word, deliciously, "You're the one they've been hyping. The new wrestling prodigy."
Dio laughed.
"I see someone's been doing their homework."
Her eyes gleamed. "It's a gift."
"Let me guess, your opponents underestimate you, right?"
"They do." She savored her drink, a glint of playfulness in her dark orbs. "And then they meet the real Nana, and they regret their foolishness."
"Then I guess I'd better watch myself." He raised a hand to call the bartender, ordering a whiskey.
The alcohol warmed his throat, relaxing him.
The thrill of competition coursed through his veins, sparking his fight-or-flight instinct. And yet, Dio experienced something else entirely with Nana: a tether between their souls, drawing him to her.
He turned on the stool, fixing his gaze on the brunette beauty that had stolen his attention. "Tell me, Nana, what makes you tick?"
She shrugged, her smile both coy and seductive. "I'm a competitor.
Someone who loves a challenge," she said, placing her empty glass on the counter. "When I wrestle, it's a chance to prove myself, to show what I can do, and to become the best version of myself I possibly can be."
Dio was entranced by her fervor. He noticed the subtle way the veins in her strong forearms twitched when she spoke—it was captivating and endearing. "You have a point there. We might have something in common," he admitted.