Hannah's Chance (Chapter 3) (fm:sex at work, 5778 words) [3/4] show all parts

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Alex nodded and they sat silently for a moment, Hannah tackling her meal. "It's a shame about Milan," he said.

"Why, what's in Milan?" she asked

"An investor show," he said. "Several of us went last year. It was a good event. Nothing came of it though, so I can see why Clare isn't bothering with it this time."

Back at her desk, Hannah pulled up Tanaka's decade of investment patterns. Conservative, yes, but with sudden spikes in biotech startups - bold bets hidden beneath layers of caution. She highlighted three anomalies, her pulse quickening. If she could reframe "aggressive" as "strategically visionary," Clare might relent.

She wondered how free she was to pursue the matter, trying to figure out the office politics in play, reasoning that Singapore likely came under Alex's jurisdiction and she would therefore have to defer to how he wanted to handle it. She decided to talk to him and walked to the open door of his office.

"Singapore's an emerging market, right?" she said.

"No," he replied, "Singapore's not classified as an emerging market. It's considered a high-income economy."

"Oh," said Hannah. "You can tell I'm still new here."

"Singapore does get mentioned in discussions about emerging markets, but it's generally recognized for its developed market characteristics. Why are you asking?"

"I wanted to have a crack at Tanaka, but I thought it would come under your department," she said.

Alex shook his head. "It's not my baby. Shirley was supposed to be working on it, but I don't think she got very far. If you want to take it on, just ask Clare if you can handle it."

Hannah hesitated only a moment before walking toward Clare's office. She paused outside the glass door, watching Clare scrutinize a spreadsheet with fierce concentration. Taking a steadying breath, Hannah knocked and entered without waiting for permission. "I'd like to lead the Tanaka pitch," she stated, placing her analysis on Clare's desk, highlighted anomalies circled like battle plans. "Their conservative shell hides aggressive impulses. We should exploit that gap."

Clare switched her eyes from the spreadsheet to the document that Hannah had placed before her. "Your methods with Vince ended well," she conceded, tapping Hannah's biotech findings. "But Tanaka detests unpredictability." Her gaze sharpened. "Play revolutionary here, and you'll bury us."

Hannah leaned forward, fingertips pressing into the polished wood. "Then let me craft a disruption they'll mistake for tradition."

Clare's eyes narrowed, but Hannah saw the flicker of interest - a crack in the armor. She pressed harder. "Tanaka's biotech bets weren't reckless; they were chess moves. I'll design a pitch that feels like their next logical step, not a gamble." Silence stretched as Clare scanned the highlighted anomalies, her thumb tracing a sudden spike in pharmaceutical investments from 2019.

"Fine," Clare said at last, sliding the dossier back. "But adhere to their protocols. One deviation, and you revert to spreadsheets." Hannah's nod was sharp, victorious. As she turned to leave, Clare added coldly, "And Hannah? No Vince-style closures. Tanaka values contracts, not theatrics."

Back at her desk, Hannah buried herself in research - Tanaka's annual reports, executive interviews, even their corporate tea ceremonies. Every detail mattered. She looked through Shirley's work on Tanaka, but found little of note and nothing to suggest that she's been in contact with them. She then drafted an email to Tanaka's VP, proposing a preliminary call to "discuss aligned opportunities."

The reply came the next morning: a curt acceptance. Hannah spent hours rehearsing, her voice low and steady as she outlined synergies between Tanaka's biotech plays and their firm's AI-driven analytics. She emphasized stability, predictability, and long-term vision—words Tanaka cherished.

On the video call, Mr. Chen's expression remained impassive as Hannah presented. She noticed his fingers steepled when she mentioned dormant capital in emerging Asian health-tech markets. "Our models show minimal volatility," she assured him, pivoting smoothly to risk-mitigation protocols. His nod was barely perceptible, but she caught it.

She knew they weren't the kind of people you should try and hurry, so Hannah waited patiently to hear from them further. Then just over a week later an email arrived, short and to the point, asking for a full proposal. It was a breakthrough and she immediately felt energized.

Hannah knew she needed Alex's help to put a detailed proposal together, but this was no obstacle as he was more than happy to assist. Taking the information and suggestions he provided, she worked for hours, crafting a document that wrapped her bold vision in Tanaka's preferred language of caution, each innovative suggestion buried within layers of risk assessment and historical precedent. She submitted it quietly, without fanfare.

A week crawled by with no response. Hannah kept her focus on routine tasks, scheduling, compliance reports and preparing quarterly investment reviews, but her thoughts circled Tanaka like a hawk. She resisted the urge to follow up, trusting her instincts. Finally, an email arrived late on Friday, but it gave no direct reply to the investment proposal, merely asking if they were going to the upcoming investor show in Milan, which Tanaka were attending.

Hannah's pulse quickened. Milan hadn't been on Clare's agenda. She forwarded the email to Clare with a single-line note: "Opportunity for face-to-face validation. Tanaka initiated." Silence followed. Hannah spent the weekend imagining scenarios, Clare's refusal, Tanaka's skepticism, the ghost of Vince's volatility haunting her progress, and others.

On Monday morning, Clare appeared at Hannah's desk, her expression unreadable. "Book flights," she said. "One day only. Visit Tanaka at the show, not their hotel." She paused, her gaze sharpening. "Observe protocol. No deviations." Hannah nodded, masking her triumph with a professional smile.

"I'm a bit surprised she's letting you go," said Alex, when Hannah told him about it later. "She's not keen on travel costs at the best of times."

Hannah shrugged, clicking through flight options. "It's Tanaka. She can't risk ignoring them."

"Well Milan is a lot nearer than Singapore," Alex continued. "She's probably pleased they didn't invite you to go there."

Hannah looked up from the flight options. "You know, I can't really book for one day," she said. "Bearing in mind the time difference, to get there in the morning I'd have to fly the night before, and I'll be jet lagged when I arrive."

"I agree, you'll have to be there for a couple of days at least," said Alex. "Why not ask Clare if you can attend the whole three days of the show? Make the most of the trip. You might make some useful contacts. If not, you'll certainly learn something from being there. Good for your development."

Hannah hesitated, calculating the optics. Clare hated perceived extravagance, but the trip made more sense this way. She also might need more than one meeting with Tanaka, so being there for one day only might prove limiting.

When she spoke to Clare, Hannah was surprised at how quickly she agreed to the extended stay. "Fine, go for the entire show," she said, barely looking up from her monitor. "Justify the expense by scheduling meetings with at least three other prospects. And Hannah?" Her gaze flicked up, icy. "Tanaka first. No improvisation."

Hannah spent the next days meticulously planning her meeting with Tanaka. Alex readily gave her every assistance and helped make sure she was fully prepared. Over the weekend she packed for the trip, including the new silk dress and her most conservative suit, a silent nod to duality.

The flight to Milan was smooth, but Hannah arrived tired. She checked into her hotel, sleep her first priority. When she awoke it was mid-afternoon and after a meal she changed into her silk dress. She decided to explore Milan's Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, its glass-domed arcade glittering under evening lights. The luxury boutiques and cafes hummed with international voices. Investors, she guessed, here for the show.

At the investor show the next morning, Hannah immediately sought out Mr. Chen. He had assured her he would be attending a seminar in the main conference room at 11 AM, so she made her way there in good time. She recognized him without any trouble, flanked by two associates, and it was clear that he immediately recognized her. Approaching with measured steps, she extended her hand. "Mr. Chen. Hannah Hartwell. Our proposal honors Tanaka's disciplined approach." His handshake was firm, brief. "We value thoroughness," he replied. "Let's discuss after lunch."

She spent the intervening hours touring the exhibition stands. At a Japanese robotics display she got talking to another young woman who worked for a boutique bank and they headed off to have lunch together. Maria was warm and friendly and they found a lot of common ground. She turned out to be staying at the same hotel as Hannah.

When she reconvened with Mr. Chen in one of the many meeting rooms the exhibition center offered, Hannah presented her risk-mitigated expansion strategy using their own historical data as validation. Her words were stripped of any flourish but they pulsed with quiet ambition. She spoke of "calculated evolution," weaving Tanaka's own historical bets into her narrative, transforming disruption into inevitable progression.

Mr. Chen's questions were surgical, probing every assumption. Hannah had been well prepared by Alex for this meeting and she answered assuredly and precisely, citing conservative growth projections and phased implementation timelines. His final nod carried more weight this time. "We will review internally," he said, rising. "You understand our pace."

That evening, Hannah joined Maria for dinner at a trattoria tucked away from the show's bustle. Over wild boar pappardelle, Maria revealed Tanaka's notorious aversion to new partners. "They test relentlessly," she warned, swirling her Chianti. "Your proposal could stall for months unless you anchor it to something immediate." Hannah filed the insight away, grateful for the information, her mind already churning.

Back at the hotel, Hannah drafted an urgent email to Alex, requesting Tanaka's third quarter biotech holdings. She needed leverage, a concrete pain point Tanaka couldn't ignore. While waiting, she reflected on the Vince deal and how well that had worked out. It had been over a month since his investment had been secured and there hadn't been any problems, no tantrums, in fact nothing at all had been heard from him. So far anyway.

She checked her email first thing in the morning and Alex's reply had arrived. Tanaka's biotech portfolio showed unusual vulnerability in a gene-editing startup, a holding that had quietly bled value for months. Hannah cross-referenced it with her firm's analytics. Perfect. Their proprietary AI could stabilize it, turning Tanaka's weakness into a showcase of her solution's necessity. It was just the kind of thing she needed.

She got out of the hotel elevator and found Maria waiting for her, as they had arranged to go to the exhibition hall together. Referring to their conversation the previous evening, Hannah told her that she now had something immediate to put to Tanaka and hoped it would help to progress her proposal. "That's a positive development," said Maria. "I hope it works out for you."

"Thanks for the insight you gave me," Hannah replied. "Let me know if I can do anything in return."

As they left the hotel, they were approached by an elderly man dressed in a brocade waistcoat and a high-collared shirt that looked borrowed from another century. He didn't say anything but tipped his hat to them and offered them both a card.

"Il Club Delle Maschere," it read, followed by an address. Hannah looked up but the man had already gone. "What's this?" asked Maria.

Hannah shrugged, tucking the card away. "Probably some exclusive investor thing." She felt a prickle of curiosity but pushed it aside. Tanaka was priority one. She spent the morning refining her pitch, weaving Tanaka's failing gene-editing startup into her proposal as a silent crisis only their firm could solve. By lunch, she'd transformed vulnerability into urgent opportunity.

She couldn't immediately locate Mr. Chen or his associates and assumed they were lunching somewhere, so she decided to have lunch herself and look for them afterward. Maria was unavailable as she had a lunch date with a potential client, so Hannah dined alone. Over her meal she recalled that Clare had asked her to schedule meetings with at least three other prospects, and with her focus on Tanaka nothing else had been done as yet. She was halfway through her visit already, so needed to get on with it.

She decided to look at the exhibition program to see what else was happening that afternoon. A seminar on sustainable finance caught her eye. It wasn't something she knew much about, so she would no doubt learn something there, even if she didn't make any contacts. Tanaka was the first priority though. She had to try and find Mr. Chen before she did anything else.

As she returned to the exhibition hall, she heard a voice behind her that she recognized. "Mr. Chen," she said, turning around, "I was just about to start looking for you."

He stood flanked by his associates, his expression unreadable. "Miss Hartwell?" As always, he was polite but distant, with no wasted words.

"Further to our conversation yesterday," Hannah said, keeping her voice low, "I noticed that your position in biotech had weakened recently, mainly due to a marked decline in one company's share price." She watched his eyes tighten almost imperceptibly. "Our analytics platform predicts that no correction to that price is likely in the foreseeable future, which means it's going to remain a bleeding asset." She handed him a single page summary of the analysis.

Mr. Chen took the document without glancing at it. "We monitor all holdings," he replied, his tone glacial. But Hannah saw one of his associates wince, confirmation she'd struck a nerve.

She decided against being too pushy at this point. "I'll leave it with you," she said, "I just thought it was important to bring that point to your attention. If you want to implement our proprietary solution to review and stabilize your biotech position, just let me know."

Mr. Chen gave a curt nod and turned away without another word, his associates trailing silently behind him. Hannah watched them disappear into the crowded hall, her stomach tightening. Had she overstepped? Tanaka's protocols demanded deference, not unsolicited diagnoses. She forced herself to breathe. Boldness had worked with Vince; Tanaka required a different calibration.

She made her way to the sustainable finance seminar, scanning name tags for potential prospects that Clare would approve of. The room buzzed with jargon-heavy debates about carbon credits and green bonds. Hannah took notes mechanically, her thoughts circling back to Mr. Chen's stony retreat. "He didn't dismiss it outright", she reminded herself. "That's something."

She noticed one woman asking a stack of questions and after the seminar ended decided to introduce herself. The woman turned out to be Lena Petrova, head of ESG investments for a Nordic pension fund. Hannah pitched their firm's analytics capabilities, keeping it strictly professional. Lena seemed intrigued, promising to review their materials.

It was late afternoon now and Hannah looked for Maria, so they could go back to their hotel together. She found her talking to a silver-haired man, the conversation very animated with much smiling on both sides. She waited nearby until the two parted. "That was intense," Maria said, rubbing her temples. "He runs a family office in Zurich. All blockchain, no small talk." Hannah nodded sympathetically as they walked toward the exit.

"Have you still got that mysterious card?" asked Maria.

Hannah retrieved it from her bag. "Il Club Delle Maschere." She ran her fingers over the embossed mask logo the card bore.

"One of the potential clients I was talking to today, the one I had lunch with, turned out to be based in Milan, so I showed him the card. He said it's a masquerade club. It's only a short cab journey from our hotel."

Hannah raised an eyebrow. "A masquerade club? Sounds like a party for people who don't want to be seen."

"Exactly," Maria grinned. "My contact said it's where the real deals happen after hours, a place with no name tags, no corporate branding. Just investors with money to move and anonymity to protect." She tapped the card. "He mentioned they're highly selective. That old man must've been a scout."

Hannah's pulse quickened. Tanaka's glacial pace contrasted sharply with Vince's volatility, but this felt different, secretive, calculated, like threading a needle in the dark. She wondered who she might find behind a mask, unreadable but reachable. "We should go," she said, her voice low. "Put it this way. If we don't go, we'll always wonder what we missed."

Maria nodded, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"I don't get what you said about the old man being a scout though. Why would he scout us?"

Maria lowered her voice as they stepped onto the street. "Think about it. We're young women. Every good party needs a mix of guests." As Hannah didn't immediately reply, she continued. "You don't always need connections or influence to get in to a selective event. Sometimes you just need the right look."

They walked in silence for a few moments, Hannah considering what Maria had said. "So we're there to add some glamour to the place?" she said eventually. "We should be flattered at being considered glamorous."

Maria laughed. "I'll take it as a compliment."

Hannah looked at the card again and its embossed mask logo. "Are we supposed to wear fancy dress?" she asked.

Maria shook her head. "Masks only. I've been told they provide them at the door. Elegant anonymity." She paused, studying Hannah's expression. "We can leave anytime if it feels off."

Back at the hotel, Hannah changed into her silk dress, its deep blue catching the light. She applied her makeup with extra care, dark liner emphasizing her eyes - windows to a resolve she hadn't felt since the Vince deal. The potential business with Tanaka was still on her mind, but this club offered a different kind of experience and she decided to focus on the night ahead.

Maria appeared in a sleek black jumpsuit, the fabric clinging like liquid shadow, broken only by a silver belt at her waist. The neckline plunged just enough to draw the eye, and the tailored cut gave her an air of deliberate confidence. As always, her smile was warm and friendly.

The club entrance was unmarked, a heavy oak door set into an unassuming stone facade. A doorman in a plain black suit examined their cards under a discreet penlight before nodding them through. They found themselves in a small room, where a silent attendant offered them masks: Hannah chose a delicate silver half-mask that covered only her eyes and the bridge of her nose, leaving her lips exposed; Maria selected a more elaborate gold filigree piece.

Inside, the main chamber was a cavern of velvet-draped walls and low, intimate lighting. Candlelight flickered from sconces, casting dancing shadows across the masked faces of guests who murmured in low tones over crystal glasses. The air hummed with a blend of sandalwood, expensive perfume and the faint, seductive thrum of jazz music. Hannah scanned the room, noting the careful distance maintained between groups, the tilt of heads suggesting intense, private negotiations disguised as casual conversation.

A server materialized silently, offering flutes of champagne. They both took one, Hannah's fingers brushing the cool stem as she absorbed the atmosphere. This wasn't the sterile brightness of the exhibition hall; here, power felt cloaked, decisions made in the shadows. She spotted a man nearby, his mask a stark raven shape against silver hair, gesturing subtly toward a secluded alcove where two others waited. The air crackled with unspoken potential.

Maria nudged her gently. "See anyone you recognize?" she whispered. Hannah shook her head. Without name tags, every figure became a mystery, a hedge fund manager, a sovereign wealth advisor, perhaps even Tanaka's elusive decision-maker. She sipped her champagne, the bubbles sharp on her tongue, and let her gaze drift. A woman in a feathered crimson mask laughed lowly nearby, the sound rich and knowing. "Who are you when no one knows who you are? Hannah wondered.

They moved deeper into the room, the thick carpet muffling their steps. Near a grand piano, a cluster of masked guests debated in what sounded like German. They suddenly shifted to English, their tones urgent, and Hannah caught the word "liquidity." She paused, listening for more, and one man, his mask a simple black domino, locked eyes with her briefly. His gaze lingered, assessing, before he turned back to the conversation. Hannah felt a thrill run through her, the air feeling charged with possibility.

Maria leaned in, her voice low but clearly audible over the soft jazz. "That man near the pillar, the one with the scarab beetle mask? I'm sure I recognize him, despite the mask. I saw him earlier today with a delegation from Dubai."

Hannah followed her gaze to a tall figure standing apart, his posture radiating authority. His dark mask covered his entire face except for a sharp jawline, and he held a glass of amber liquid, untouched. He seemed to be surveying the room like a hawk. Hannah felt a pull, a sense that he held influence here. "Let's get closer," she murmured. "As he isn't talking to anyone."

They drifted toward him, pausing near a table of Venetian masks displayed as decor. The man turned slightly, his masked gaze sweeping over them. Hannah held her breath. "Good evening," he said, his voice deep and accented. Middle Eastern, she supposed.

"Evening," Maria replied smoothly, warm and friendly as ever. "Intriguing atmosphere here."

The man inclined his head in her direction, his attention then shifting to Hannah. She met his eyes through the mask slits, projecting calm ambition. "It's a place for unfiltered conversations," he observed. "Where anonymity sharpens intent." He gestured with his glass toward the group near the grand piano. "Although I don't approve of discussing a prospective bond issue loudly, so that everyone can hear."

Hannah took a measured sip of champagne, the bubbles sharp against her resolve. "Anonymity can be liberating," she offered, her voice steady. "It allows focus on the deal itself, stripped of titles." She let the implication hang, that she understood the game being played in this velvet-lined arena. The man's scarab mask remained impassive, but he didn't turn away. Maria remained quiet, letting Hannah take the lead.

His gaze, dark and assessing behind the mask, swept over Hannah once more. "Liberating, perhaps," he conceded, his tone still neutral but engaged. "But also dangerous. You can get... carried away here."

Hannah sensed an opening. "Calculated risks yield the greatest rewards," she countered, her voice low but clear. "Especially when you have the right tools to manage exposure." She held his stare, projecting the quiet confidence she'd honed since leaving her secretary's desk. The champagne flute felt cool and steady in her hand.

The man's posture shifted almost imperceptibly, a fractional lean forward. "Tools," he repeated, the word hanging between them like a challenge. "Many claim to possess them. Few deliver."

Hannah's pulse quickened. She met his gaze squarely, her silk dress whispering as she took a half-step closer. "Ours map volatility before it erupts. Like spotting hairline fractures in a dam." She kept her voice smooth, letting the metaphor resonate in the candlelit hush. Maria remained a silent, watchful presence at her shoulder.

The man's scarab mask tilted, a sliver of lamplight catching the gilded edge. "Fractures," he mused, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "And what of the floods that follow? Can your tools contain them?" His question was a blade wrapped in velvet, testing her conviction.

Hannah didn't flinch. "Containment is reactive. Our models predict the pressure points, allowing strategic reinforcement before the breach." She paused, letting the hum of the club fill the space between them. "For instance, look at a certain major company who made a recent divestment in Turkish renewables, too late to salvage value, but early enough to avoid catastrophic exposure."

The man set his glass down on a nearby marble pedestal with deliberate softness. "Prediction is only as valuable as the action it inspires. Tanaka learned that the hard way with their biotech hemorrhage." The name hung in the air, sharp and unexpected. Hannah's breath caught. "How deep did his knowledge run?"

Maria's hand brushed Hannah's elbow, a silent signal to tread carefully. Hannah kept her voice level, betraying nothing. "Precisely why foresight requires partnership. Real-time analytics paired with decisive execution." She held his masked gaze, the club's shadows deepening around them. "You seem familiar with the cost of hesitation."

The man gave a low, thoughtful hum. "Intriguing," he said, the word deliberate. "Your pitch reminds me of an approach I received last year. Clare Buchanan, Shirley Lewisohn, I can't remember the name of the firm." He paused, letting the implication sink in. He had worked out who she was, mask or not. "Tanaka's stumble is... regrettable. But salvageable. With the right leverage."

Hannah's mind raced. She kept her expression neutral, though her pulse hammered against the cool silk of her dress. "Regret is hindsight," she countered smoothly. "The question is what moves Tanaka forward. Our AI doesn't just predict fractures; it designs the reinforcements."

The man leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "Tell me, then. What reinforcement would you propose for their biotech disaster? Hypothetically, of course." The scarab mask seemed to gleam with challenge.

Hannah's thoughts raced. She tried to pull everything together, Tanaka's failed investment, Alex's data, the precision she needed. "Divest the sinking subsidiary immediately," she said, her tone razor-sharp. "Redirect capital to their health-tech pipeline, where our algorithms show 97% alignment with emerging Asian demand. A pivot, not a retreat." She watched his knuckles whiten on his glass.

The man remained silent for a beat too long, the jazz fading into tense quiet. Then, a low chuckle escaped him. "Bold. Almost Shirley-like in its... directness." The name hung between them, an unspoken indictment. Hannah stiffened; Maria's hand tightened on her arm.

He lifted his untouched drink, the ice clinking like a warning bell. Now the music had stopped, every other sound seemed louder. "But Tanaka doesn't pivot on hypotheticals whispered in shadows. They require proof. Tangible, irrefutable validation of your model's claims." His masked gaze locked onto hers, piercing through the silver facade. "Can you provide that? Tonight?"

Hannah felt the weight of the moment, the velvet air suddenly thick. This wasn't just a pitch; it was a gauntlet thrown. She drew a slow breath, the scent of sandalwood sharp in her nostrils. "What form would satisfy Tanaka?" she asked, her voice steady despite the adrenaline humming in her veins. Maria stood statue-still beside her.

The man's scarab mask tilted, reflecting a shard of candlelight. "A live demonstration," he stated. "Apply your model to a current, volatile asset. Right here. Right now. Prove it can navigate uncharted waters." He gestured subtly towards a discreet alcove where a sleek laptop sat open on a low table, its screen dark.

Hannah knew she was surely out of her depth at this point. She would need Alex's help to give this man what he was asking for, but she betrayed none of the panic tightening her chest. Thinking quickly, she replied: "It takes time to do a full analysis, to give you the outcome you're looking for. A demonstration is only useful if it's thorough."

Maria smoothly interjected: "But perhaps we can offer you a preview." Her voice was a soothing counterpoint to the tension Hannah felt. "A snapshot of capability, to warrant a deeper discussion tomorrow."

The man considered this, swirling the amber liquid thoughtfully, but was distracted by a group of scantily-clad individuals passing close by, headed to a stage at one side of the room. "That's why the music stopped," he said, his voice flat but attentive. His masked face turned slightly toward the stage, the candlelight catching on its polished curves.

All around them, the murmurs of the crowd softened into anticipation. The only sound now was the soft shuffle of bare feet on the floorboards as the performers climbed onto the low stage. Hannah was relieved to have been handed a reprieve, but felt unsettled by the knowledge that the scarab mask might still insist on a full demonstration that night. Hopefully he would accept the preview that Maria had suggested.

The dance troupe were ready, a mix of male and female dancers, and the stage lights brightened. When the music swelled, much louder than previously, the dancers began to move with liquid grace, their performance a riveting blend of primal rhythm and predatory elegance. They moved as though weaving a spell, bodies intertwining, separating, then finding one another again. Each gesture was precise, sensual, deliberate, designed to draw the audience closer with every sway and lift.

For a while, Hannah forgot the scarab-masked man at her side. The stage performance seemed to pull her in, the heat of the dancers' movements rippling through the room like a current. Every twist of a body, every masked glance, carried an intimacy that blurred the line between audience and performer.

Around her, the audience were reacting in the same way, caught in the same spell. It was as if the performance had peeled something away from the room, layers of civility, of calculation, leaving only raw fascination. The atmosphere was thick with a sense of initiation, as though the performance was a secret rite.

The dancers moved closer to the edge of the stage, their eyes locked on the audience, and one by one they began to invite guests to join them. A woman in a feathered mask stepped forward, then a man in a simple domino. The line between spectator and performer dissolved completely as they were absorbed into the dance, moving with the same fluid intensity.

When the performance was over the troupe took a bow to generous applause. Hannah turned to the scarab-masked man, her heart pounding. "About that preview—" she began, but he raised a hand, cutting her off.

"Later," he murmured, his attention fixed on the dispersing dancers. "The mood has shifted. Business discussions feel... crude now." He retrieved his glass from the pedestal, the ice long melted. "Find me at midnight. Near the fountain." With a curt nod, he vanished into the crowd, leaving Hannah staring at the space he'd occupied.

Maria exhaled sharply. "He works for Tanaka," she breathed, her gold filigree mask catching the low light as she turned. "Or he's someone with direct access. The Dubai delegation was cover." Hannah nodded, her mind racing. Midnight. The fountain. She would be ready.

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Hook writes Fri 3 Oct 2025 21:38:

Well played. A dance on shifting sands, with crocodiles in the oases.
Eagerly anticipating the next part of this 3D chess match.

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