Like repels like.

Seto Kaiba's day had started out rather nice. No day was perfect, but he could accept that. He went to work at the same unholy hour that he always did. He fired two people, skipped lunch, and attended a few meetings. All in all, a rather successful day. No one shot at him, no one kidnapped his little brother, and no one called in any bomb threats.

One of his more successful and productive days, really.

He even left work slightly early (meaning seven pm instead of eight) to go home and spend a little time with Mokuba before he sent him to bed.

"Nii-sama, there's someone in your office waiting for you," Mokuba looked up at him as he walked into the den. "It's the lawyer. Someone else is with him too..."

Seto blinked, then frowned. "Thanks, Mokuba. Homework done?"

Mokuba sighed. "Yes..."

"Good." Seto smiled softly and ruffled his hair a little. "I'll be down to play a game with you in a little bit, ok? Just let me deal with the lawyer."

Mokuba snickered. "Don't fry his ass too badly, ok, nii-sama?"

"Language." Seto glanced over at his shoulder at him as he headed up the stairs.

"Jounouchi uses worse."

Seto just sighed and shook his head. "No more speaking to that mediocre duellist."

"Sure, niisama. Sure."

Seto decided to ignore him and simply head to his office. It was safer that way. He sighed and walked into his office, moving over to his desk without looking at the people in the room. "What do you want now, Misamura?"

"Mr. Kaiba, may I introduce you Miss Tasmin Witherspoon." Misamura gestured to the slim, short woman behind him. Seto spared one glance at her, then looked back at Wilkins.

"Hn. I don't want sex, I didn't sign a contract for a publicity stunt and the baby isn't mine." He turned back to his desk, ignoring the woman's choked-off words of anger.

"No, no, Mr. Kaiba, you misunderstand me." Misamura's oily-smooth voice made the hair on the back of Seto's neck rise. "Miss Witherspoon is your wife."

Seto cranked around to stare at him. "What!"

Misamura smirked faintly. "Your... father and the Lord Witherspoon have a long-standing contract dictating this marriage."

The woman muttered something in English, something that sounded distinctly rude. Seto turned an infuriated glare on Misamura. "I am not marrying that!"

"You don't have a choice." Misamura handed him an official document. "You've been married to her since you were adopted. If you decline the marriage, the contract and the company go to Mokuba, and you go to the streets. It's your choice, Mr. Kaiba."

Every muscle in Seto's body was tense in his attempt to keep from throttling the man. From the look on the woman's face, she wanted to do the same. "Fine." He snatched the contract from the lawyer. "I'll find a way to annul this and we can work everything out." His eyes flicked to the woman, then back on Misamura. "You're fired. Get out. If I ever see you again, you will regret it."

Misamura seemed to know that he had worn out his welcome, and he quickly bowed slightly and hurried out. Seto took this time to examine the woman.

His first impression of the woman was that she was a total and utter homicidal bitch. But Misamura had that effect on people. He decided to just examine her physical features and let her calm down a bit before he determined her personality. She looked rather plain, as women went. She had no overly striking features, nothing stood out beyond the rest. She would have easily blended into a crowd with the right clothing. And yet, this was to be his wife? Who had chosen her? The only thing that made her stick out was her stark-black outfit. First order- new wardrobe. And it's definitely not some publicity stunt then, unless they wanted "ordinary nutjob" instead of "swimsuit model."

"No."

Seto blinked a little, then raised an eyebrow. "I didn't even say anything."

"You had not to." Clearly her Japanese needed a little work, and she struggled for a moment to put words together in a comprehensive form. "I see your look."

Seto smirked and switched to English easily. "You should've done your homework better."

"Sod off, prick," she switched back to English as well. "It's not my fault your bloody language is all ass-backwards."

"But to us, your language is," he pointed out in a maddeningly calm way. "Don't worry about it. I will get rid of you shortly."

"I feel bloody loved," she muttered, looking around. "Do you have a room for me, or will I have to sleep in the garden, Mr. Kaiba?"

"You will have a room," Seto waved a hand a bit. "I'm not that heartless."

"Could've fooled me." She looked around a bit more, then shrugged. "Fine. Show me to my room."

"Where are your bags? I will have someone bring them in..." Seto turned towards the door.

"Already got 'em." Tasmin slung two duffel bags over her shoulders. "Just show me and spare me the pleasantries."

Seto resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and stalked off down the hall. Lovely woman. Thank you so much, Gozaburo. I see your tastes were just as sick back then too. Damn you for still being able to run my life! He seethed inwardly, but was careful to keep his face expressionless. I am eighteen years old, you have been dead for four years, leave me alone! Stop haunting me, you bastard!

He waved to the room he'd mentally picked out for her already, and then turned on his heel. "The kitchen is downstairs. If you can't find it, Mokuba or I will show it to you."

"Thanks," she muttered, remaining aloof and cold. "Goodnight, I assume. I won't bother you until tomorrow, unless I need to use the bathroom."

"There's one attached to the room." Now there's no need for us to interact at all until I've figured out how to handle you, woman.

"Why thank you, Mr. Kaiba. How kind and convenient." You bastard. I'm not going to hide away forever.

"Goodnight, Miss Witherspoon," Seto glanced at her over his shoulder, then headed quickly back to his office. Tasmin stalked into her room, slamming the door behind her. Why does this sort of thing always seem to happen to me?

Tasmin threw her bags into the wall and swore loudly. Sodding bloody hell! I finally escape my family and I get saddled with the Ice Prince from Narnia! Bloody statues all over the place and not an emotion on his face! Peachy-fucking-keen! She sighed softly and sat down on the bed, making a face at the size of it. At least it's a nice bed and I'm not in the cellar.

She raked a hand through her hair and pulled out her tarot deck, tossing it to the bed, then started unpacking her duffel of clothing. He seemed surprised that I had only two bags. I figure I'll raid his account and buy some new clothes anyway. Or maybe just raid his shirts. He looks like he has good taste...

She paused in folding a shirt. He is attractive... I can admit that. But he'd just turn on me. If he ever let me near enough to- no. I don't want that anyway. She squared her shoulders and stood up a bit more. I don't care. If he won't ever care about me, then I won't ever let him touch me. And that suits me just fine. It wasn't like I wanted anything out of this marriage anyway. The bastard. Damn him! And damn my family!

She threw the duffel down and flopped onto her bed. Damn everything! I can unpack later. She decided to stare up at the ceiling, and let her mind drift around. And lo, I was a stranger in a strange land, and every man's hand was against me.

She rolled on her side and glared at the door that she had come in through. Don't think you've seen the last of me, Kaiba. Don't you bloody well dare. I don't want to be here just as much as you don't want me here... But don't think I'm going to let you walk all over me like a bloody doormat. Her eyes felt heavy; the tranquilizers they had used to get her onto the plane from England hadn't completely worn off like she'd thought. I suppose... a nap won't hurt.

She sighed and curled up on the bed and closed her eyes. Fuck. I hate life.

(o)

Seto had to get his anger out before he went outside. He couldn't show this to the press, and damned if he'd burden Mokuba with his troubles.

Damn Gozaburo to hell! What was his reasoning behind this? Marrying me to some English bitch like I was a pawn in his fucking game? Not a chance in hell! There has to be a way out of this!

He sat down and reread the contract for the third time. It was, without a doubt, the most brilliant piece of legal writing he'd ever seen. If he ever saw the person- or people, if it was truly written by Gozaburo and this "Lord Nathaniel Marcus Witherspoon III"- he'd like to shake their hands. Then calmly shoot them in the head, pour gasoline on the bodies and light them on fire.

Flawless. He'd go over it again later. There had do be something.

Well, obviously there was; the most obvious loophole - and what seemed to be the only one - was for one of them to die.

And even though that was so horribly, terribly tempting, he had no real intentions of being branded a murderer. He had enough stains on his soul; he didn't need this one.

He'd have to see how the woman settled in. Perhaps he could work something out with her. Even if it was something simple, like an agreement to avoid each other except for certain necessary times.

The Kaiba name did need to be carried on. He couldn't count on Mokuba to give up his child or children for training for the corporation.

He rubbed his eyes. What am I going to do? I have two choices- accept her, or have her killed. He brooded on that second subject. It would be almost pathetically easy. No one knows she's here except her family. If they were willing to sign her up for a marriage to someone half a world away that they'd never met, could they really care that much about her?

Perhaps they thought they were doing something good for her, a second part of his mind pointed out. You're rich and powerful. You could give her whatever she wanted and needed in life. They might've thought they were doing her a favor.

Surely my reputation precedes me, Seto snorted, shaking his head. Besides, the Witherspoon family is a powerful noble family. They're very rich as well, and in England, they're incredibly powerful. Lord Witherspoon is a Conservative member of the House of Lords. His finger tapped on the wood of his desk, eying the screen of his monitor, and the information there. He has the ear of the Queen as well. What the hell is he sending her here for?

He wants power. He wants the Kaiba name. It made too much sense. And in return, Kaiba Corporation gets half the businesses in England clamoring to buy its products. Or more.

It's perfect. The bastards. No wonder Gozaburo set it up. No fucking wonder.

He sat back, lacing his fingers together and staring at the screen. He had to keep the woman alive, then. At least for a while, until he could discover her relationship with her family. If no one would miss her...

Well. Accidents happened.

He stared at the file, a slow frown crossing his face.

What the hell have I become?

A/N: Don't hurt me? Reviews are the lifeblood of people with no self-esteem. So if you don't want me to have an emotional bre- I mean... if you like it, leave a little note, eh?