Disclaimer: GA's not mine. Story is mine. End.

::Million Dollar Ice Queen::

by

::cherii tomato::

un

I am a horrible, horrible man.

That is the only thought that is running through my mind when I step into Anna's quaint little coffeehouse. The delicious scent of coffee and food in the air hit me on the face with a pang. Usually, I would've drooled like a fool the moment my senses are tickled by the smell but today, I am perhaps too petrified to do anything other than to mentally pulverize myself.

How could I miss those signs? How could be so fracking careless? I'm a certified vet for god's sake. I didn't spend four years in veterinary school only to have my rabbit get sick and die without even noticing the slightest thing that is off. People call me Jesus to animals, claiming that I'm able to cure even the most outrageous disease to hit an animal. Yet, I had failed to notice that there was something wrong with my rabbit, my companion for four years.

I killed my best friend.

With a pounding headache, I drag my legs to the counter to stand in line. Five customers later, it is my turn. The girl at the counter, Kiwi, Shimi or whatever her name greets me with all smiles. Her smile falters when she notices my expression.

"Oh wow, Ruka. You look terrible. Did something happen?" Oh nothing, really. I just killed my rabbit, that's all, no big.

"No," I lied. Of course, she didn't buy it. I can see her skepticism. Only an idiot would believe my lies. "A cup of cappuccino. Not too hot please." The girl shoots me a look of uncertainty but makes no comment before busying herself with my order. I take a quick scan around the room. Nothing too interesting. Anna, the shop owner is no where in sight, probably at the back kitchen cooking or something. I spot Mikan Sakura sitting at a table, chatting animatedly with a girl who's seated across the table. She looks familiar. Her jet black hair is cropped into a pixie-like fashion, her pale face a stark contrast to her hair. I can only see her profile but I can tell that she is hauntingly beautiful and elegant. It's her posture when she sits, the way she drinks from her cup that practically screams richly-educated. For a moment there, I almost forgot about my dead rabbit. Only for a moment. Almost.

She reminds me of someone. But my head's throbbing too painfully to fish out a name. Is she a client? No, she doesn't' look like someone who'll own a pet.

I turn back to the counter and am surprised by Anna's sudden appearance. She smiles softly, a little enigmatic. My order is already on the counter. "You look terrible Ruka. What's wrong?" I shake my head and take the paper cup then drop the exact amount of money onto the counter.

"Nothing." With that, I walk away. The headache's still throbbing painfully.

I don't want to go back to the clinic just yet, it's too depressing. Anna's café has this amazing calming ability so I decide to stay. The place is crowded, as usual, and there isn't an empty seat in sight. I scan the room and find a guy standing up from his seat, preparing to take his leave. I drag my legs to the seat. The headache is getting worse by the minute.

When I reach Mikan's table, I'm about to greet her with a smile when my legs feel like they're getting tangled up in one quick moment and before I could get a grasp on whats happening, I feel myself falling down. Yes, I tripped on flat surface. It was all so sudden that I didn't even get a chance to prepare for the impact that was about to hit me. I fall and hit my head on the floor. My cappuccino flies out of my hand

Shit.

I lie still on the floor for a minute or two before painfully pushing myself up into a sitting position while rubbing my temples with the heel of my palm. For five seconds, my vision's blurry. I shake my head once in an attempt to clear my vision and look around me. The chatters in the café have died down completely. I see Mikan staring straight at something with her eyes and mouth wide open. I follow her line of sight and see my cup. The coffee it once held is emptied from it and has soaked into a skirt that I believe was once white. My eyes travel up a purple satin blouse, a slender, pale neck, a strong jaw and a pair of pink lips. They continue to travel up and take in a pair of the most beautiful purple eyes I've ever seen.

I'm so captivated by the beauty that I didn't realize the seriousness of the situation. It hit me after another few seconds of staring. I gasp yet continue to stare. I try to read the girl's expression but my attempt is futile. There's not even a single trace of emotion on the girl's face. I gulp.

This day just cannot get any more worse.

The girl turns her head mechanically to me and I can feel my breath hitch. She's even more beautiful when looked at face front and up-close. Her amethyst eyes bore into mine. That's when I know who she is. I remember seeing her face on the newspapers, billboard, magazines, televisions and more. I remember reading about her once in one of Natsume's finance magazines. An amazingly intelligent young lady who managed to make her first million when she was sixteen by selling one of her inventions that took the world by storm.

But she is also known to be cold, merciless, heartless and absolutely unforgiving. To work in her company was like working in hell, although the pay given out was rumored to be incredibly high.

But still, the words 'cold', 'heartless', 'merciless' and 'unforgiving' ring through my mind, as loud and as clear as a bell. I involuntarily shudder.

With the coldest voice ever, colder than the South Pole itself, she asks, "What's your name?" Her face and eyes are still void of any expression. I can literally feel the temperature in the room dropping by a few degree Celsius with every passing second. I swallow another gulp of saliva.

I'm so nervous that my fingers and legs are trembling in fear. Sweat starts to break out on my palms and on my forehead. "R-R-Ruka N-Nogi," I stutter in fright. The last time I was this scared, I remember wetting my pants.

She observes me with her eyes carefully, making no attempt in murdering me or anything. I'm beginning to think that perhaps everything that was said about her personality was just rumours. Maybe she's actually kind, loving, caring and loves animals. Maybe she'll stand up and lend me a hand to pull me up. Maybe she'll say, "Are you alright? I hope you're not hurt."

But I can swear that I saw a sadistic looking smile creeping up her lips. Oh shit.

Next thing I know, I feel something punching my forehead with an inhuman strength. I fall back down to the floor and right above me are stars. Great, my headache has just gotten ten times worse.

I slowly raise my head to look at the girl. As always, she looks at me with a blank face. My face blanches when I see what's in her hand. Using an expensive looking silk napkin, the girl carefully wipes any dust off her bazooka.

I've been hit by a ba-freaking-zooka.

She does not turn to look at me, her eyes trained onto the item in her hands. "Well then, Mr Ruka Nogi, you currently owe me 8,251,964 yen, for the damages you have caused to my 2005 limited edition Marc Jacobs skirt. An invoice will be sent to you in an hour." Eight. Million. Yen..? Just by pressing a button on her bazooka, the thing shrinks into the size of a mini handgun. She deposits it into her handbag. Finally, she looks at me. Her eyes are cold and unfriendly. "I'd expect you to bank in the full amount into my account by tomorrow evening. Failure to do so will result in legal action being taken against you." She steps away from her seat then leans in and whisper into my ear. "I'm sure you know who I am and what I can do." Then, she straightens herself up before stepping out of the café.

Mikan rushes to my side and pulls me up. "Are you okay, Ruka? Oh my god, that was so scary." A wave of dizziness rushes to my brain and when I feel like I'm about to fall, Mikan clutches onto me tightly. "Steady there."

Eight. Million. Yen? That's like what? One hundred thousand US dollars?

Mikan sees the look on my face and laughs nervously. "Don't worry about her, Hotaru's just—" She pauses. "She's not kidding. But don't worry; I'll talk her out of it!"

There's nothing I can do, my mind's still numb from the fact that I've dropped myself into an 8-million-yen debt. With the scariest woman on Earth, no less. I manage to squeak out a word of thanks to Mikan, hoping that she'll be able to convince Hotaru on letting me off the hook.

Or at least, hold a nice funeral for me after she's killed me.

An hour after the whole Imai incident, I'm pacing around Natsume's posh office. Even though the room is practically freezing, I'm sweating uncontrollably.

One of my workers had called and told me that the invoice had arrived.

"Mr Nogi, why do you owe a Hotaru Imai eight million yen? Wait, is this the Hotaru Imai?"

How was I supposed to answer that?

After twenty minutes of waiting, Natsume strides in confidently in a dark blue suit. As always, he looks bored but if you look closely, you can see a hint of annoyance and anxiety swirling in those red orbs of his.

Before I can speak, Natsume holds up a palm and beats me to it. "Can you please tell me why Mikan Sakurais currently in a state of hysteria?" He takes a seat behind his desk, in a posh leather swiveling chair. "And what's this about you owing Hotaru Imai 8,251,964 yen, which by the way is the exact amount for a hundred thousand USD, according to the current exchange rate."

"You've talked to her? Mikan, I mean." I'm staring to fidget.

"No, but—" He reaches out to his mug but snarls when he finds that its empty. He leans over to press on the intercom button. "Matsumoto, how many times do I have to tell you that my mug has to be filled with coffee? Get your ass in here and fill it." Seconds later, a petite woman rushes in, all the while apologizing to Natsume as she takes the mug away from the desk and hurries out.

"As I was saying, no, I did not exactly talk to Mikan. She called me, rambled incoherently for a few seconds before I hung up." Natsume leans back comfortably into his chair. "But that's not the point. Is it true that you destroyed Imai's Marc Jacobs skirt? The white, limited edition one that was specially designed by Mr Jacobs himself for the devil's spawn herself, no less?"

The words 'specially designed by Mr Jacobs himself for the devil's spawn' reverberate in my ears. A sudden wave of nausea rushes into me, overwhelming me in the process. My butt lands onto the chair in front of the desk. No wonder Imai's pissed. Specially designed. Limited Edition. Marc Jacobs.

"I thought you said Mikan was rambling incoherently? You seem to have the right information." I manage to ask as articulately as possible.

He shrugs indifferently. "She was. But I picked up enough keywords to pierce the story together." A few quick raps on the door and Natsume's secretary appears again. She places the mug back onto the desk then bows towards her boss and scurries out. He takes a sip, never taking his eyes off me. "So it's true?"

So I tell Natsume the whole story, from the moment my rabbit died. It's funny really. My day started out horribly, my pet rabbit died, for Pete's sake! But never would I have thought that I would end up pissing off the richest woman in Japan.

Natsume listens to me carefully. He does not make a single comment while I'm talking because he's not one who likes to barge in while someone's speaking. Sometimes, you might think he's not listening at all when the truth is: he's paying you more attention than anyone will. It's just one of his noble qualities, I guess. If he thinks you're worth his time, then he'll give you his time. Simple as that.

The moment I'm done, Natsume takes another sip from his mug. "Interesting," he murmurs to himself. "A hearty congratulations, then. You've just landed yourself the second biggest enemy you can get. The first, of course, is Chuck Norris." Natsume states blandly. The way he speaks is so flat that you think every word that comes out of his mouth is serious business. You'd never expect him to throw in a joke. Ever.

I stare at him, baffled, but he seems unaffected. "Did you—did you just crack a joke?" He cocks an eyebrow lazily. "About Chuck Norris, no less."

He shrugs and waves a dismissive hand. "Sorry. Koko made me read this book on facts about Chuck Norris or something like that. Can't help it." In an undertone, he murmurs to himself but I can hear him saying something like, "I'm going to wring that pretty little neck of his."

"Anyway," Natsume leans forward and clasps his hands on his desk in a businesslike fashion. "Let's get back to your situation. First, let me establish one fact. When it comes to money, Hotaru Imai is a stingy, calculative, greedy bitch. If she says that you owe her ten million and one yen, you are obliged pay her ten million and two yen. Pay her ten million yen only, the next thing you know, she will hunt you down and torture you senseless. That was not meant as an exaggeration. If she doesn't get her money by the deadline, the same thing will happen."

So the papers and magazines were true. Fantastic.

"You know her?"

Natsume grimaces. "Unfortunately, yes. She's the idiot's best friend. And we've had a couple of business deals. When she found out that I'm dating her best friend, she promised that if I were to make Mikan tear, she'll make me a eunuch."

"Wow." That's the only word I manage to utter before sinking back into the chair. Frankly speaking, I'm screwed.

"Fortunately for you," he announces and extracts a booklet from his desk. Natsume flips it open before scribbling and tearing a piece of paper out. He slides the paper across the polished wooden table to me. "I have just the right amount of money. Take it."

My eyes widen a few millimetres. "Wh-what is this?"

"A cheque." Natsume replies curtly. My eyes are fixed onto the cheque. On the line where the name of the payee is supposed to be written are the words Ruka Nogi in Natsume's messy but legible scribble.

The amount written is 8,300,000 yen.

"No." I shake my head. "No no no no no. No. No! Absolutely not! No! God no!"

As always, Natsume is as poker-faced as ever. "Great. Fantastic," he drawls lazily. "Are you done with your 'no's?"

I hold up the cheque towards Natsume. He's filthy rich, alright. But that doesn't mean he can fling millions of yen away so carelessly. "I can't accept this. I just can't. Natsume, this is eight million yen. Not to mention, it's more that my what I owe Imai. I don't want it."

This seems to irk Natsume, though subtle, I can see an eyebrow of his twitching uncontrollably. Natsume was never someone who can take rejection lightly. He rejects rejection.

"Ruka," his voice is dangerously low. "Don't be mistaken that this is charity. No. Natsume Hyuuga will never do anything of that sort. This is merely a loan that should be paid back by you. But unlike Imai, I don't expect you to repay me tomorrow. There is no deadline. Besides, I'm not doing this for your sake. I'd rather be dead than see you being turned a eunuch."

"Right," I murmur softly. My eyes and attention are still trained onto the cheque of one hundred thousand USD.

Natsume gets up from his chair while he fixes a button on his suit. "Look, if it makes you feel any better, you can buy me lunch."

"Whoah! Wait, Natsume. It's eleven and you just got back. Shouldn't you be working or something?" His fingers are already wrapped around the metal handle of his door when I finished talking. Natsume turns his head.

"Ruka, I'm the owner and the CEO of this company. I believe I have the right to decide when I'll work and when I'll have lunch. Now are you coming or not?"

Well, I don't think I have a choice, do I?

The soft ding in the elevator catches my attention after my thoughts had drifted off a while ago. A female's voice announces that I have reached the fourth floor of the building. My floor. The doors slide open and I get out from the elevator. I'm in a considerably calm mood, seeing that my debt towards Hotaru Imai has pretty much been settled after Natsume's generous offer. In fact, I'm so happy that I'm actually humming a nameless tune.

When I'm only ten steps away from my door, my phone rings. I answer it, but before I can even say 'hello', the person on the other line starts talking frantically.

"Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! Ruka, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so very freaking sorry. I didn't mean it!"

"Mikan." Natsume was right. She is in a state of hysteria.

"I'm so so so incredibly sorry. I didn't mean it!"

"Hey, calm down there-"

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it! I tried to talk to her but-but-"

"Mikan, everything's alright now. You don't have to be so-" I turn my key till there's a satisfying click before pushing it open. The phone's clamped between my ear and my shoulder.

"I really didn't mean it! I'm so sorry! I tried to persuade her to lower the cost but Hotaru eventually-"

The word causes my whole body to tense up. "Eventually? Eventually what?" Uh-oh. Why do I have very, very bad feeling about this?

Mikan takes a gulp of saliva. "Well, Ruka." She's hesitant, this cant be good. "After I left the café, I went to Hotaru's office. I tried to persuade her but she wouldn't listen. And then-and then-in the end-"

"In the end-?"

"She raised her price."

Oh shit. "Sh-she raised her price? B-by how much?"

There's a pause. It's probably no longer than a few seconds but I feel like a year had passed before she utters the answer.

"Ruka, I'm afraid to tell you that by now, you owe Hotaru Imai 16,400,000 yen."

I think I should've written this at the beginning of the story but I just don't want to destroy that nice little format. But, if you haven't noticed, this is somewhat connected to my other story, Café de l'Amour.

(: