The floor-to-ceiling glass wall of the private sky-suite on the eighty-fourth floor of the Toranomon Hills Tower framed a breathtaking panorama of Tokyo at midnight.
Below us, the sprawling megalopolis was a luminous galaxy of electric blue, brilliant violet, and neon red light, stretching endlessly toward the dark outline of Tokyo Bay. The winter air outside was bone-dry and crisp, while inside the suite, the quiet was preserved by heavy Japanese acoustic cedar panels, low leather furnishings, and the subtle, soothing scent of warm sandalwood incense.
I stood near the glass, holding a delicate porcelain cup of steaming gyokuro green tea. I wore a tailored midnight-navy silk blazer with sharp, architectural lapels over a fitted charcoal silk sheath dress. My dark hair was sculpted into a
