Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon or The Prospective Wife and make no money from writing this story.
Warnings:This is an adaptation the published work mentioned above. I mean no harm or profit but to use the story as a setting for my favorite anime couple. You have been warned.
Summary: Hired for marriage? Darien Shields is the ultimate millionaire playboy, and irresistibly charming. The members of his family are constantly trying to find him a suitable wife. Then Darien has an accident, and his suspicions are aroused when blond, beautiful Serena is hired to help him recover. However, Darien is surprised at Serena's cool professionalism as a physiotherapist; maybe she is there to massage, not marry him. So why does he find her touch so arousing; has he at last found his potential wife?
AN: Just doing some editing. Nothing has been changed.
The Potential Wife
Prologue
Caught between a rock and a hard place the unfortunate orderly began to sweat. He'd met some real hard cases in his time, but this black haired bloke, who even in crutches towered over him, could have given the hardest of those tough characters a run for their money! It was something about those eyes, he concluded with a shudder, as he become unable to maintain eye contact with those midnight blue orbs any longer.
Truth to tell, he'd always felt slightly scornful of his colleagues, who tended to be intimidated by some of the rich and famous patients who stated at the exclusive clinic. It was a matter of pride with him…no obsequious groveling to the spoilt and pampered. He was polite, but he didn't treat them any different than he would the ordinary man in the street. In his own defense there was no way that this bloke was going to be mistaken for a man on the street, and that circumstance had nothing to do whatsoever with money.
"Sister said…" he began to protest weakly.
"Take the wheelchair away."
No shouting, no red faced blustering, but he still managed to put an indefinable something into his voice that made your blood run cold.
"Sister Lita said you've got to leave in a wheelchair.'
Darien Shields permitted himself a thin lipped smile and remained blissfully unaware that the streetwise young man in front of him found it deeply sinister.
"Sister Lita knows my opinion of wheelchairs."
The redoubtable Sister Lita knew Darien's opinion on a lot of subjects; they'd had many a clash of wills over the past few weeks.
"Listen, mate." The harassed orderly made a last ditch ma-to-man appeal. "Maybe you don't need the wheelchair, maybe you do; I don't know. I do know you won't be here tomorrow, but I will and so will Sister Lita. She can make life a misery."
"Thanks, Jadeite. I'll see Mr. Shields off the premises."
The orderly turned with an expression of relief to see Andrew Fuhurata standing in the doorway.
"Cheers, Doc!" He gave him a grateful look and didn't hang around to find out if his appeal had found a sympathetic ear.
"Well, Darien, harassing my staff until the bitter end, I see…"
Darien Shields snorted. "That's pretty rich. Coming from you! If it's not beneath your dignity," he nudged a slim leather briefcase with his toe. "Carry that for me." As much as he hated to ask for help, sometimes there was no alternative.
The curt unfriendly tone had no visible effect on the surgeon, who had a pretty shrewd idea of the frustration his patient was feeling.
"I doubt that it's on my job description but what the hell…for my favorite patient, why not?"
"Is sarcasm in the job description?" Darien gritted, swinging his crutches into action. Even though this posture robbed him of several inches, he was still a good head taller than the other man.
"You are in a hurry," the doctor observed, increasing his pace to keep up with the cracking pace that Darien had set. "Anyone would think you didn't like us…"
"If I ever develop a yen for a police state you'll be the first person I'll think of, Doc," Darien promised grimly.
"I suppose I'd be wasting my breath telling you not to discharge yourself…?" Darien delivered a look that could have withered graves on the vine. The doctor gave a philosophical shrug. "You can't blame for trying. You are, after all, one of my most amazing success stories. I'd hate to see you blow all that hard work for want of a bit of patience."
Darien's smile was wintry. He'd made heavy inroads during the past few months into his limited patience reserves. "Don't worry, I won't do anything to ruin your reputation as a miracle worker."
Andrew Fuhurata inclined his head in acceptance of the back handed compliment. His expression was wry; he knew he was good, possibly the best, but he was a realist, and as much as he would have liked to claim all the credit for himself he knew that the speed and completeness of Darien's recovery owed more to the man's remarkable determination and steely willpower than anything else.
"Back door to avoid the press…?" He knew the routine; the clinic had its fair share of celebrity patients.
"I don't see why I should make their lives easier, do you? Zoi's brought the car around."
His doctor could see the reasoning behind this logic; he was pretty sure he might be a bit paranoid too if his personal life had been served up for public consumption as often as Darien Shields's had.
"If you are so bothered about security I'm surprised you are not staying with your parents. Don't they even have their own drawbridge…?"
"Not to mention a moat, a castle, and the best part of a village," Darien drawled languidly." But no son…At least, as far as my dad is concerned."
The doctor looked at his patient well proportioned, rather stern profile and wondered if he cared. You could never tell with Darien.
"But…" He stopped himself just in time before blurting out the information that Shields senior, who had even more financial clout than his son, had forbidden any member of staff to mention. "I'd have thought the accident…" he protested mildly.
"It would take more than a near death experience to make my father change his mind, Andrew. As far as he's concerned I stopped being his son the day I didn't do as he wanted. I'm the competition now…and he'd like nothing better than ruin me."
Andrew Fuhurata was shocked by this cold blooded analysis even though he knew it wasn't strictly true.
"Well, that is not likely to happen, is it?" he responded uncomfortably.
Despite the fact that after a somewhat mysterious departure of his more experience partner the city had predicted disaster, it was well know that the airline that Darien had started from very humble beginnings was now causing the big players who had scoffed; none louder than Darien's own father, Connor Shields, serious headaches.
"Worried about your share dividend, doc?"
Andrew grinned. He could afford to. Earth Flights was one of the financial success stories of the decade. "Actually, I do have a small sum invested."
"Then I'll probably make a very rich man," Darien announced with total lack of modesty.
"The rates we charge here and the amount of hardware in that leg, Darien, you already have…"
"I've never actually done any private sector work, and to be honest it's never really appealed."
Despite her indifferent tone Serena was well aware that she couldn't afford to be picky when it came to jobs. In fact it was all she could do not to kiss the woman's handmade Italian shoes!
Serena's anxiety began to mount as she watched Drusilla Shields' midnight blue eyes drift around the forlorn looking, half empty sitting room. Supposing I sounded too uninterested? It was one thing not wanting to come over as a charity case; it was another playing hard to get!
"But you need work…?"
Serena felt a wave of relief. For a nasty moment there she'd thought she'd talked herself out of a job.
"Don't we all?"
Well, not all, Serena silently conceded, realizing that she was almost certainly speaking to someone who didn't need to work. The chauffeur driven limo Drusilla had driven up in had been ample proof of that.
Serena's own situation wasn't desperate, but it could get that way…and fast. Her godfather was executor of her mother's estate and, even though he had tried to break the news as gently as he could, Serena had been shocked to learn of the full extent of her mother's debts. Serena had genuinely thought the gambling thing was in the past.
Apparently she wasn't legally bound to pay back the undocumented amounts of cash, some of them large, that her mother had borrowed from her friends and family over a twelve month period, but Serena was determined to pay back every penny.
It was a weight off her mind that the house had sold so swiftly; unfortunately this piece of good luck had left her without a roof over her head.
With very little in her bank account, the extended leave she'd taken to care for her mother during her final stages of her illness had been unpaid, she needed a job and somewhere to live.
Now here was a friend of Mom's who, up until last month, they hadn't seen for years, offering her both. It had to be fate.
She nudged the edge of a half full packing case with the toe of her trainer. It was filled with the stuff the auctioneers hadn't wanted.
"People always want good physios, and I've heaps of experience. I'll get a new job easily enough," she assured her affluent looking visitor on an earnest, upbeat note.
"But not your old one."
"No," Serena confirmed with a regretful sigh. "I knew they couldn't hold it open indefinitely, but that might be a blessing in disguise."
Drusilla wasn't surprised to hear it. Five minutes after she'd met Serenity Alcobar she had realized that her old friend's daughter was as resiliently optimistic as she was beautiful. A few discreet enquiries into the girl's financial situation, added to what Irene had told her, had revealed she'd need every ounce of that youthful resilience.
"I've worked in the same hospital since I qualified, not exactly bold and adventurous."
Drusilla wondered if Darien would find the girl's smile as enchanting as she did. A frown tugged at the seamless brow as she contemplated her son's choice of female companionship.
"I always meant to travel," Serena explained, her eyes shining with enthusiasm as visions of exotic sun kissed shores rose tantalizingly before her eyes. "I just never got around to it somehow…" The smile faded. "There's nothing to keep me here anymore."
Drusilla caught up the young woman's hand in a comforting grip. "You did everything you could for Irene, my dear, "she insisted warmly. "And you must take comfort from the fact that in the end she was here amongst all the familiar things that were dear to her, and with the daughter I know she loved very much."
The motherly patting on the arm made Serena's wide spaced cerulean blue eyes fill with tears, not that Drusilla Shields, with her designer clothes, glossy hair and impossibly youthful face was like any mother she knew.
"You're very kind. You say this job would only be short term…? It is a live in post…? "That would solve her immediate problem.
Drusilla clapped her prettily kept hands in delight. "You'll do it for me? Excellent!"
"There is a job, isn't there? You are not just inventing one because you feel sorry for me…?" Her doubts emerged gruffly as she wiped a hint of moisture from the corner of her eye. "Mum didn't ask you to watch out for me…?"
Drusilla laughed. "Oh, there's a job all right; you'll definitely earn your money, my dear. Incidentally, you'll be working for me, not Darien."
Serena nodded. That was understandable. If the man had been in the hospital for six months it was likely he didn't have the spare cash to pay for a private physiotherapist, and it was equally obvious her mother did.
"I suppose it will be some time before he'll be able to get back to work…I mean, pilots need to be very fit, don't they?"
"Pilots…?"
"You did say he was piloting a helicopter when he was injured?"
"Yes, that is right."
Drusilla was looking a bit uncomfortable and Serena cured her own insensitivity at referring to the accident.
"You'll probably be better off getting someone else," she felt impelled to point out. "You know I've specialized in working with children for several years."
"That might in very handy when dealing with Darien," Darien's mother reflected dryly. "At heart most men are little boys."
Serena's fuzzy mental image of an over indulged mummy's boy intensified.
The problem is he's never had a day's illness in his life and he's not making the most tolerant patient, poor dear. He needs cheering up, and small wonder! That terrible accident was bad enough, but then that awful girl proceeded to dump him." The blue eyes flashed with maternal ire. "I suppose we ought to be grateful she waited for him to be taken off the critical list before she went ranting on hysterically to those awful newspapers about him never walking again! 'Horribly disfigured,' I ask you…!"
Serena's blue eyes softened with sympathy. "I didn't know… They can do marvelous things with facial reconstruction."
"Heavens, no; there was hardly a mark in his face. Obviously you don't escape such a horrific accident with no scars," Drusilla conceded. "But the main problem was being forced to lie flat on his back with the spinal injury for so long; he's had too much time to brood. I knew the moment I saw you that you were just the girl for the job!"
"Let's hope your son thinks the same."
It seemed strange to Serena that her new patient wasn't having any say in the choice of his physio, but then to all she knew he might be the sort of man who let Mummy buy his socks for him.
There were a lot of men out there who still relied heavily on their mothers well into their thirties; she'd met one or two herself. She sometimes wondered if something about her screamed "substitute mother"; they certainly seemed to gravitate towards her.
"Oh, I'm sure Darien will love you."
Nothing could have been more heartily confident than Drusilla's firm tone…So why was Serena getting the distinct impression things weren't quite as straightforward as the older woman was implying?
"He does know that you are…?"
"You might find Darien a little…erm…resistant…" Drusilla was obviously choosing her words with care. "But you must promise me one thing." Her blue eyes gleamed with urgency as she caught hold of Serena's hand. "Don't listen to him if he tells you he doesn't need you. Promise me, Serenity!"
Serena felt slightly uneasy and a little embarrassed by the older woman's intensity. "You are the boss," she agreed, a shade of unease in her voice.