Oops, I completely forgot I'd completed this chapter and not updated it yet… It's at the point where I'm relatively close to finishing chapter 13… Sorryyyyyyyy!

Thank you to my lovely reviewers KeekiiSakura, ilovebks, HelenLouisSaramago, The Clawed Butterfly, hopelessromantic, NieveDrop, TrueLightHikari, person, Shizza24, becky246, and my 5 unnamed guest reviewers.

Also, I did receive a review from Chapter 10 by an unnamed guest reviewer which I would have very much liked to have replied to privately! However, since I can't, I'll post my reply on here (on the very off chance that the reviewer has decided to come back to reading my story: I really do apologise that you do not enjoy reading my story as I do love writing it. And I can completely understand where you are coming from with what you say, however, this is a story that, yes, does show Rukia's suffering, but equally offers her the opportunity to learn and progress from it – as is a realistic part of life for everybody. People gain their strengths through weaknesses. I apologise for disappointing you, but I can assure you that this story is not all doom and gloom; it is a story about Ichigo and Rukia and the title is 'trying not to love you'. Have to get the balance straight first between the characters and the plot, otherwise it would just be another mindless, passionless IchiRuki story like many others. If you would like to view one of those, please search elsewhere for something less explicit e.g. a T rating. Thank you!

Everybody else, apoogies for longwinded opening…

Enjoy this chapter.

This had to be one of the strangest things she had ever done.

Actually, legitimately, genuinely cook dinner for Kurosaki.

Without being forced.

Rukia's thoughts had been leaving friction burns in her mind as they sped furiously around her head.

It was difficult to work out exactly how she was feeling about the surreal concept of welcoming her boss into her house and willingly feeding him without adding arsenic to the ingredients.

Reaching up to the overhead cupboard – and remembering that she couldn't reach it – Rukia expelled a sigh of mild annoyance.

Sometimes being short really was an inconvenience.

Stretching up on her very tiptoes and placing one palm on the kitchen counter as her other hand just brushed the handle, she became aware of a sudden outburst of heat rush over her skin and a hand – might she add, not her own – easily grasped onto the handle and pulled the cupboard door open for her.

"Not easy being tiny?"

Oh, Kami above did that smug little tone get under her skin.

Stiffening slightly and constraining a polite – or as polite as she could manage – smile onto her lips, Rukia turned to face the man before her, Byakuya's black top pulling against Kurosaki's thick muscles.

And oh, Kami above did that smug little smirk get under her skin.

Opening her mouth to respond, and consequently finding her response interrupted by the orange-headed idiot, Rukia pursed her lips.

"Need me to grab whatever it is that you're longing to reach up there?" He asked, "It'd save you pulling a muscle, wouldn't it?"

He was about to overstep his mark.

He knew how much she despised him coming to her aid.

Looking up at him through flashing violet eyes, she tried not to let his musky scent overwhelm her, "I don't need your help, thank you." She answered, curtly.

"Oh, of course you don't." He nodded, "I mean, it is pretty clear to see how you reach this cupboard with such graceful ease."

Both her hands landed on the counter behind her and she easily lifted herself up onto the surface. Keeping her eyes locked on his stubbornly for a brief moment before she turned away, Rukia pushed her weight onto her knees and levelled herself with the cupboard. Pointedly reverting her gaze back to Ichigo over her right shoulder, she removed his hand from the handle, replacing it with her own. Grabbing the salt with her free hand and crouching down to place it firmly on the counter with an accentuated thud, she spun back around to sit comfortably on the edge, "What was that?"

"Oh." Ichigo raised his eyebrows, folding his arms across his chest, "Well, the short one wins…"

"As per."

"I always admired your modesty." He took a step forwards so her knees just brushed his hips, and her eyes flickered down to his hand that had settled itself beside her thigh on the marble surface.

His face was unmoving, his jaw perfectly set as his face fixed itself in her direction, and she assumed he was looking at her, but it was difficult to tell with that daft damned fringe.

Surely, he was aware to some degree the frustration it caused her.

Well, of course he was.

Idiot.

"Oh?" She murmured, tilting her head to one side, "And what else do you admire about me?" She was almost certain that he'd be able to detect the mild irritation igniting behind her stare.

Judging by his measured silence, Rukia assumed he had nothing else to say for the time being, which was more than fine for her.

She watched him settle for a slow, casual shrug as his feet brought him an inch or two closer to her body, his other hand dropping onto the counter beside her right leg, "That's about it, really." He decided.

"Mm." Rukia nodded, keeping her head fixed in his direction as she slid off the kitchen side, landing directly in front of him, close enough so the fabrics of their clothing were pressed together, "Well, at least I guess it is one more thing than I admire about you, so…" She trailed away, allowing herself a casual shrug and a sweet smile in return, before she turned away from him to toss a few ingredients into the pan.

"I almost forgot how rude you are both in and outside of work." His voice spoke from behind her, to which Rukia just scoffed, shaking her head in scorn.

"… Said Mr Kurosaki." She added, sarcastically.

"Hey. At least I try and be civil outside of work. Every time I talk to you, it's like you have a beanpole stuck up your ass…" He muttered, pulling his arms away from her and folding them across his chest, obstinately.

Her hand paused at the salt and instead decided to change its course, slapping harshly down on the surface. Spinning back around to glare at him, she hissed, acidly, "And who is it cooking you dinner right now, hm?!"

The cheek! As if he had the gall to pull a card like that out in her own house of all places!

Whoever brought this man up clearly did not spare any lessons on manners.

"An angry midget."

Mark = overstepped.

"Keep pushing it, Kurosaki, and you will be eating out in the rain." She murmured, quietly, the anger bubbling low behind her calm tones.

"Hm, poisoning my dinner just seems more your style."

"I'm all out of poison at the moment." She retaliated, smoothly.

Apparently finding the whole situation rather humorous, Ichigo smirked, "I'm sure you'd find something to put in my drink… bleach, maybe?"

"Mm… Don't tempt me." Her eyes remained narrowed, fixated on his face, daring him to make one more snarky comment.

But of course, it was Ichigo, and he always rose to any challenge, didn't he?

"Oh, so you find me tempting?" His question was spoke softly, suddenly causing Rukia to be all aware of their close proximity once again.

Did she find him tempting?

"Tempting to push off a cliff, perhaps." She concluded, her mind playing around with the visual clip of Kurosaki landing in the briny blue below, never to turn up at work or her house again.

…Perhaps it was a little harsh…

He let a smirk pull at one corner of his lips and a low breath of laughter issued from his mouth, "Ooh, sounds like a rush."

… Then again. Harsh or not. The thought still brought her a mild sense of satisfaction.

"I'll give you a rush in a minute, Ichigo Kurosaki." She threatened, pushing her body confrontationally closer to his.

Oh god, perhaps that came out a little wrong.

Dipping his head down and no longer trying to conceal his wide, obnoxious smirk, he nodded.

She could see him watching her struggle with herself for a moment at his words, before the blood once again flushed her cheeks.

"Sounds like a date." He returned, effortlessly.

Perhaps bleach did sound like an appealing option to swap his beverage for, after all.

Consequently, the oven gloves were immediately launched at, and then received by, his face, "Oh, just get out."

Dinner time proved to be a remarkably normal ordeal – well, if 'normal' meant the two children scoffing their meals and playing games such as lets-see-if-we-can-open-our-mouths-at-each-other-while-eating-and-not-get-caught.

Rukia joined in with the conversation created by the two children, offering her input where it was due, although mostly they just had their own little private jokes to laugh about.

Ichigo just kept silent.

Until the end, that is.

He stood up and collected all the plates as they were finished with.

She quietly watched Ichigo take the dirty pots into the kitchen and when he didn't resurface, Rukia nodded her head in response to Hikaru's plea to leave table before she stood up and walked to the where Ichigo was… and it was genuinely surprising to see him washing the pots at her kitchen sink.

It was like he actually knew how to be courteous.

"Enjoying the show, are we? I assume now you're about to make some snide comment over the fact that I'm a man, and yes, I am washing pots."

Rukia raised her eyebrows and walked slowly towards him, "Actually… I don't find men washing pots a particularly rare occurrence… I was more intrigued by the fact that it was you specifically washing the pots."

He paused for a moment, allowing a breath of laughter to escape his lips before he stacked the plate on the drainer, "Oh? Is that so?"

She said nothing and went to place the condiments back in their rightful places before she leaned her back against the counter, resting her palms on the edge.

It took Ichigo a moment or two before he moved his head in her direction, and she knew his eyes were settled on her, because she could feel them.

Instead of replying, Rukia quickly overviewed the situation in her mind, brushing off the abnormality of what was happening.

"Thank you, by the way." He ignored the fact that Rukia seemed to prefer silence at that moment in time and proceeded to do as he pleased.

Tilting her head to one side slightly, Rukia raised an eyebrow, "For…?"

"The dinner." He spoke it in that way that made Rukia feel a little stupid for not realising that was what he was referring to, "It was… perfect."

Why she felt herself ease up a little inside at his compliment, she wasn't entirely sure; perhaps it was because she was so used to working to gain his approval that it had just become routine to subconsciously impress him where she could.

Or perhaps it was because she knew it was pretty damn good.

Even if she did say so herself.

"Even with the bleach?" She said, quietly.

His mouth twitched upwards playfully, "Oh, especially with the bleach."

She chose to ignore his compliment, and just inclined her head forwards, "You'll want to hurry up with those." She gestured to the pots and kept her hip held delicately against the counter, her arms folding beneath her breasts. Of course, she kept her expression void of a playful smirk, because it wouldn't have been as amusing if he'd have known she was joking.

"And they call me a slave driver." Ichigo responded, a breath of laughter leaving his lips, "You know, maybe if you grabbed a tea towel and dried them, it would make less work for you later."

"Are you trying to tell me what to do in my own house?" She raised an eyebrow, refusing to move any other part of her body.

Ichigo allowed himself a small, amused smirk – which was exactly what was to be expected, considering she knew he was provoking her intentionally, "I am your boss, after all. It's in my nature to provide you with suggestions on how to improve your work, or at least make it a little easier to cope with."

This time, Rukia could barely hold back as a surprised exhalation of laughter gushed from her lips, "Oh! Really? That's what you think you do?" She took one step closer to him, forgetting all about social standards and impeding almost obnoxiously upon his personal space, "See, I must've gotten the wrong end of the stick, because you only seem to make it all the more challenging. Nothing I can't overcome, of course."

"Of course." He nodded, seriously, his body turning away from the sink as one hand gripped onto the edge of the counter, pushing his chest close to hers, "I haven't found anything you can't overcome just yet. But don't worry, I'm working on it."

"Work all you like, Sir. It won't change anything." Interestingly, the conversation seemed to be taking a dramatic turn in regards to intensity.

"Take your own advice."

Mildly affronted, Rukia raised her eyebrows, "I beg your pardon."

"Do you know something?" He said, quietly, continuing on with the conversation as if she hadn't spoke, "I have serious issues with not having the power to destroy something. It makes me feel weak."

In an abstract manner, that sentence severely reminded her of Kaien.

But equally as abstractly, she found that there was something about the way he spoke it that didn't repulse her the way it would have if it was her darling Mr Shiba who'd have said it. But the way Ichigo had uttered it so gently made her realise that to him, destroying something wasn't about power; it was about inner strength – yes it was a little delusional and psychotic – but in a weird way, Rukia could relate to it, because she found that personally, she enjoyed it when people recognised just how indissoluble she could be.

…And she was way overthinking this entire conversation.

Forcing herself to cleanse her expression of all irritation, Rukia nodded, smoothly, her raven hair slipping over her shoulders, "I suppose I will always be one step ahead of you then because you will never break me, Ichigo Kurosaki."

Something flashed behind his fringe. It was so quick, Rukia almost bullied herself into believing it was just her imagination, but the way his jaw flexed and his mouth parted seemed to convince her otherwise, "Say my name like that one more time." His demand could've passed off as a plea, despite the edginess to his tone, his entire demeanour suddenly changing – faster than Rukia thought it possible for him to do so (considering he appeared to be, most of the time, incredibly lazy).

And there it was.

The colour.

The heat.

The immediate retreat of her own confidence as she felt the sudden closeness of his body to hers, his scent encouraging her to breathe him in, battling her will with that arrogant fire Ichigo seemed to possess.

But there was something about fire.

Something destructively beautiful.

… Or beautifully destructive. She wasn't sure which.

But of course, this brought her back to her previous thought track… destruction… there was definitely something darkly tempting about causing it... and also submitting to it.

She blushed at the thought.

"I…" Rukia began, finding that her brain seemed to have forgotten to supply her with a suitable selection of words in which to respond to his murmur.

Ichigo said nothing, but the shallow panting of his breath pushing his chest into hers suggested that maybe he too was unable to find exactly what he wanted to say.

"Ichigo…" She whispered, quietly, her eyes pulling away suddenly from the burning intensity of his face to hers. But, surprisingly, it was almost as if she could feel the way his breath tripped in his throat at the way her lips uttered his name so softly, "...Perhaps we ought to see what the children are getting up to."

"Rukia."

Amethyst flickered to his fringe, her body still and waiting.

He probably could have said anything to her that moment, and it would not have made the slightest bit of difference to the way she was looking at him – an expression of mild shock; eyes widened, her lips slightly parted, knowing that everything about this situation was wrong.

As it happened, he said nothing, but reached upwards, his fingers brushing down the side of her smooth cheek, somewhat slowly – so slowly, in fact, that she was aware of each pore his fingertips grazed over, and the slight roughness of his skin as he did so.

That was something that admittedly she had not expected – he certainly acted as if manual labour was nothing but a topic to be read or printed about in files and books.

Even as his face neared hers, the small white scars that had slipped by unnoticed before now were visible enough to measure.

Perhaps it shone a different light on how she had originally perceived him – he was suddenly a human who had worked, suffered, built, and destroyed, instead of just an arsehole that lounged behind a desk, spinning a pen around his fingertips dreaming away his easy life.

The quiet thud of her lower back falling against the counter was barely audible, despite the silence. His hand dropped from her face, catching the tip of her chin before landing beside her hip on the hard surface, "I want to know them."

Rukia paused, her head angling to one side, "Know what?" She whispered.

"Your secrets." His breath fanned against her lips, filling her with the musky scent she had unwillingly familiarised herself with.

"And why would you want to know them?" She murmured, quietly.

The edge of his wrist was held lightly to her hipbone as he gave a slow, easy shrug of one shoulder, "Because nobody else does."

Rukia wasn't entirely sure just when her palm had decided to slide and rest on his thick bicep, or when his lips had moved so close to hers that she could palate the irritatingly appealing taste of his mouth, but she did know that it was happening – and at that moment, she was infuriatingly too weak to do anything about it.

"Who is to say I even have any?"

The pad of Ichigo's thumb ghosted lightly over the faded bruise on her cheekbone.

Pulling her head back sharply from his touch and feeling herself tense up, she watched Ichigo's hand return back to the counter.

"And what about yours?" Rukia breathed, her eyes still wide and cautious as she returned her stare back to his fringe.

"What about them?"

If only she could see his eyes.

"Surely you don't think I'd give mine away for free."

Rukia, you must stop.

But she didn't want to…

Yes, you do. How will you face him at work otherwise?

Probably with a smirk.

But, the small voice warding her away from this situation was probably wise…

Ichigo said nothing.

Of course.

Ichigo wasn't even considering the inappropriateness of his current position with his most difficult employee. He was far too preoccupied with the way she appeared to be completely out of control, as though she knew what she was doing was dangerous for the both of them, but the darkness in her still encouraged her anyway.

He knew this because it was exactly how he was feeling, too.

"You know something, Ichigo…" She murmured, the velvet her whisper slid on reaching his ears, "…I know where you hide your secrets."

"Mm?" He responded, his body stilling as he anticipated her response, keeping his attention fixed directly on her.

Her hand pushed further up his arm, skimming over his shoulder and reaching towards his fringe, "Your eyes."

No.

She could not see those.

He felt his entire body seize up as her fingers gently pulled through his hair; and what hit him harder was the fact she did not lift it.

After pointing out one of his greatest weaknesses with such ease, and then proceeding to demonstrate how effortless it would be to expose it, still, she did not.

Perhaps that was even more annoying, the fact she did not use her power to take advantage of him, suggesting he was weaker than her.

His jaw set as he stared at her through his orange bangs.

"But I don't know if my secrets are worth that." She pulled her fingers away and glanced down at his lips, just for a split second, enough to give his the opportunity to draw a little nearer.

One of her secrets was probably worth at least ten of his.

The fact that she had not acknowledged her power to make him feel so vulnerable but do nothing about it seemed to strike him hard.

Always.

Always did she seem to hold the upper hand, and always did it piss him off just that little bit more.

Perhaps the fact that she hadn't even recognised what she'd done to him pissed him off just as much.

Effortless.

Fucking effortless.

But then why did it make him want to just –

"Aunty Rukia!"

Her fingers loosened their grip on his shoulder – which he was unaware of to begin with.

Exhaling, her breath a little shaky, Ichigo watched as Rukia turned her face to the door, "Everything alright, Karu?"

"I... uh… accidentally… may have possibly…" His voice trailed away, and Rukia sighed softly.

"Possibly what?" She called in response.

"Uh… Broken a flower pot…" Came Hikaru's timid reply, to which the petite creature before him gently pushed Ichigo away, sparing him no second look as she followed the sound of the young child's voice, presumably fixing whatever the problem was.

Ichigo stood stationery for a moment, his gaze fixed on the space Rukia had been filling just a few seconds ago.

What was he doing?

He couldn't be doing this – shouldn't be doing this.

For several reasons.

Most of which were too complex and boring to go into… His mind lacked the capability to analyse everything at that moment in time.

The way her body had felt so goddamn real against his… even just for a few moments.

Cursing quietly under his breath, Ichigo pulled away from the spot he had rooted himself to, his pissy shell closing back around him once again.

"Come on, Atsuko. It's time to go!" Perhaps it was to save himself the awkwardness of having to face Rukia after the both of them had experienced yet another close encounter.

Fuck's sake.

He didn't give a shit about awkwardness.

It was her who struggled with that sort of stuff and if she got all uncomfortable, it would just piss him off.

Christ, he was in way over his head.

He had fully expected Rukia to ignore his presence completely as he joined her. What he had not expected was to see was to see a tall, slim aloof gentleman with sleek black hair and steel grey eyes towering above the petite woman in front of him.

Ichigo hesitated.

Well.

He would know this man's face anywhere.

It was only Byakuya Kuchiki… a business prodigy. A very prime reason as to why Rukia was as well-known as she was. Although, Ichigo was fully aware that Rukia's work possessed enough quality to capture the attention of most parties who even read just the opening sentence.

The still confidence holding Mr Kuchiki's body suggested to Ichigo that there was no surprise this man got whatever he wanted, but not in such a cocky manner as he would have expected. He was calm; collected. He concealed his power through a blank, hard stare.

The man's eyes slid across to land icily on Ichigo and his severely sombre expression was almost intimidating, "Rukia?" He questioned, his hard gaze never once leaving Ichigo's face. There was no need for Byakuya Kuchiki to follow up with another question, for it seemed Rukia (and Ichigo) knew exactly what information he sought after.

Clearing her throat, quietly, Rukia gestured to Ichigo, "Ah, this is Hikaru's friend, Atsuko and… her father."

It was difficult to say exactly what had changed in Ichigo's expression, due to Rukia only being able to see half of it, but as she introduced him, his lips seemed to part slightly; of course, Ichigo's confidence did not waver at all. His stance remained sturdily relaxed – although Rukia knew Ichigo was anything but at ease in that moment.

"Well, I'm actually n–" Ichigo began, but Byakuya interrupted, seeming to lack interest in whatever it was the man had to say.

"Rukia, you may see him out." It wasn't a suggestion.

Bowing her head slightly, she opened the door, "I need to drop Hikaru off back home. I'll see you soon."

Ichigo and the two children followed her out of the house, and Rukia suddenly felt her arm seize up as a hand slipped into hers, tugging her back a step, "Hey."

Her head turned a fraction of an inch, and she couldn't help but feel the colour flood to her cheeks as Ichigo's other hand moved to her hip, "I'm not–"

"–Ichigo, please, I don't want to run the risk of Byakuya catching us this close." She glanced away, her expression tight and unrelenting.

"There's the mask again. Why? I originally believed you to hide from people you've only just met, but that's your brother. What do you have to hide from him?"

Rukia shook her head, beginning to push away from Ichigo's hold, "It is none of your business." She hissed, her voice lowering, "You do not need to learn my secrets, and you do not need to be holding me in this fashion."

"I'm not holding you. But I can do that, if you desire." He offered, clearly knowing full well he was pushing what little luck he had.

"No, thank you. Now, if you'll let go of me…"

He seemed to ignore her completely, "Perhaps it's people who have some kind of power over you… You hid from me the first time we met."

"Oh, because I'm so open with you now." Rukia retorted, sarcastically, sending him an acidic sneer.

"I catch you off-guard. Especially when we are close." His voice was a little husky, and just a little too overbearing considering his lips had found themselves by her ear, "You will be open with me, Rukia. I can guarantee that."

"What do you want from me?" Rukia had barely noticed the edge to her tone slipping away as she voiced the question constantly on the brink of her mind. He seemed to have some form of ulterior motive, just like everybody else she ever spoke to did.

"You are what I want, Rukia." He whispered, fiercely, "And I am sick of pretending that you aren't."

His words silenced her.

For all of four seconds… before she had managed to find her tongue once again, "Do not say things you don't mean, Sir."

"You don't feel it too?" He asked, observationally.

"Feel what?" Rukia muttered, blocking out every possible attack on her weak self-defence against the built, self-confident… powerful man before her.

Ichigo said nothing, but let his lips hover just over the pale skin of her cheekbone, his fingers tightening on her hip, instantly heating up her blood.

And the damn idiot knew exactly what his quick, intense movement had done to her, before he released her, taking a step back, instantly replacing the brief excitement with a dull ache.

She knew even just the thought of him being closer to her was tempting enough to push her heart a little faster. But that was meaningless when her life was put into perspective.

Toying around with the boss whose life she was desperately hoping to ruin was a sure way to end up disastrously.

Ichigo just smirked, "Get back to me when you can find your breath. Come on, Atsuko." He helped her into the car and gave a boyish laugh, climbing into the driver's side before Rukia could even respond.

The journey to and from Momo's, Rukia spent turning over Ichigo's behaviour, dissecting it piece by piece.

Those words.

'You are what I want, Rukia'.

It was another ploy to rile her up.

It had to be.

There would be no other explanation to justify his actions and words of that evening.

He was still trying to break her like he had done with each of his other employees.

He was just as driven, just as messed up, and probably just as dangerous as Kaien was.

If not more.

If not more, because when Rukia was with him, there was a tiny part of her that silently yearned for destruction. And an even larger part of her that wanted the destroyer to be Ichigo Kurosaki.

The following Monday, Rukia was admittedly surprised to find that she had barely caught even one glimpse of Kurosaki. He had been holed up in his office all day. She'd recently learned that her boss occasionally stepped out of his office to oversee other floors, or to attend meetings and conferences which could not be avoided, but other than that, it really seemed like he did nothing.

Really, it didn't seem to make any sense to Rukia whatsoever and was all rather confusing.

While she was on the subject (in her mind) about things she disliked, the layout of the entire building seemed topsy-turvy. Not that she minded the change, but listening to Rangiku spill the details about her sex with Renji was exactly what Rukia didn't want to hear.

She had never really cared about the abnormalities in the building up until this point; really, she just wished she had her own desk and her own space and didn't sit in view of Ichigo's office.

In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she grew agitated. Why couldn't she just work in a normal office block with a normal boss?

"Aw, come on. At least just talk to me, Rukia!"

…And normal colleagues.

"Renji…" Rukia sighed, running a hand through her hair, "I told you, I'm over it. Please… I just want my lunch without any more unwanted disturbance."

Rukia was clutching her bag as she headed over to the water dispenser to fill up her drinks bottle. She had learned not to trust using the cups in case Orihime poked her dainty little nose into snatching them off her again.

Renji seemed to be ignoring the stares of others around them as he followed a clearly unresponsive Rukia Kuchiki.

Allowing a small sigh to escape her lips, Rukia closed the cap of her bottle firmly and turned, "Can we not discuss this here, please?"

Renji's hand closed around her wrist over the fading bruise, sending a shooting twinge up the side of her arm. Ignoring the pain as Renji continued to speak, she shot him a threatening glare, "Then let's go somewhere else." His voice lowered, "I know I fucked up."

"Yes. You did. But I don't care, Renji. I mean it when I say I'm over it. Now let go of me."

Renji's grip remained as steadfast as ever, "I need to figure this out with you."

"I can assure you there is nothing to 'figure out'." She snapped in irritated response, "Now let–"

"–Think you heard her, Abarai."

Rukia froze.

It appeared everybody else had, too.

"Let her go, won't you? There's a good man." The silken voice behind them promised serious consequences if the red head kept his hand on Rukia's wrist much longer, and with mild shock, Renji did as he was bid.

Ichigo said nothing else, but swept past the two, his scent driving Rukia's senses wild. And her anger.

How dare he interfere again?

Barely aware of what she was doing, Rukia angrily followed him back into his office, ignoring Orihime's stuttered chirps as she noted Rukia's meaningful glare, bearing hard into the muscular back beneath the fitted grey shirt.

"How many times have I told you?" The anger spilt from her lips before she could stop it, "I. Don't. Need. Saving."

Whether Ichigo was surprised or not, it was impossible to tell considering he kept his back to Rukia.

He stopped walking as he approached his desk and dismissed his personal assistant with a flick of his finger.

Orihime flapped for a second, before she consented with a sweeping bow and withdrew from Ichigo's office.

The sound of the door retreating back into its frame was enough to allow Rukia the chance to continue, "I am so sick of you acting like I need saving all the time. It's starting to get tedious."

"You're forgetting something. This is my building. I own it. Whether you like it or not. What goes off in here is purely my concern. If I see a member of my team behaving inappropriately, I stop it from occurring. It just happened to be you – the centrepiece of my organisation and quite frankly the most troublesome one I have ever come across." He drummed his fingertips on his desk and turned, "Now, if you wouldn't mind… You're cutting into my lunch break."

Rukia ignored him, "Oh, but its fine when it's you taking up my time and doing exactly what Renji Abarai did. It was barely a day or so ago that you insisted on holding me when I specifically asked you not to."

Ichigo closed the distance between them and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her body into the grooves of his so she could practically feel his heart beating against hers, "Like I've said before. This is holding you."

"Get off." She demanded, her tones soft, yet meaningful.

But apparently, something seemed to keep him exactly where he was.

Rukia knew she should not be behaving the way she was, or allowing him to either, but she didn't care. She was furious. It made her feel weak when he overlooked her wishes and her rights as an employee. As a result, she wanted to get back at him.

And she was pretty sure she knew how.

She rested her hand on his chest, pushing him so the backs of his thighs hit the edge of the desk. Raising one leg and hooking it around his hip so her heel rested on the surface of his bureau, Rukia's lips crept closer to his, "Am I behaving inappropriately?" Rukia challenged, quietly, as Ichigo's breathing sped up considerably. He must've noticed her skirt pull upwards, exposing a little more thigh than was perhaps good for either of them.

Maybe her action did have the intended effect on him, but she became immediately aware of the stone hardness pressing against her other thigh and the heat crawled over her cheeks. Ignoring the sudden surge of warmth passing through all areas of her anatomy, Rukia felt his hands tighten on her waist and it appeared he was doing all he could to hold everything back due to the tautness of his jaw, "Yes."

"Do you want me to stop?" Her voice slipped out in a breathless whisper, fanning his mouth.

Rukia could barely stop her teeth from grazing his lower lip, "Well? Do you?" The electricity passing from his flesh through to her teeth was almost too powerful to disregard. Her nails had tightened in his shirt and begun to scrape downwards, letting the buttons bump beneath her fingertips.

"…No." Ichigo responded, thickly, his voice hoarse with need.

That was all she needed before she released him, and pushed herself back, impressively allowing the heated emotion to flee from her features, leaving a bare canvas, "Then don't fuck with what I want, and I won't fuck with what you want because I am not as goddamn weak as everybody seems to think I am." She straightened out her skirt, easily, turning on her heel and leaving Ichigo stunned (and hopefully with blue balls).

The rest of the week passed by, not easily for anybody who worked at Kurosaki's firm, but it passed all the same.

It appeared Rukia's little attack on Ichigo had left him in an unexplainably foul mood for the next few days and as a result, everybody – especially Rukia Kuchiki – suffered dearly from it.

Even Orihime Inoue appeared to find it tough to keep her strained smile fixed in place and proceeded to glower at every individual bold enough to pass her in the aisles.

Rukia wasn't feeling particularly optimistic about that weekend either.

Kaien had messaged her earlier in the week, demanding she show up to a fight of his that night and in truth, there was nothing she wanted to do less than that.

But she had promised to consent. It was the only way to keep him away.

But she knew it wouldn't be for long.

And when the time came, she was already preparing herself for the onslaught, deciding perhaps fighting physically was not the best tactic since it was something he enjoyed.

Why are you suddenly panicking about this now?

Rukia's mind was far too preoccupied on dealing with Ichigo's covert turmoil that she had barely spared a second thought on the fight.

Bringing Ichigo down had turned personal. Rukia desired to see him fail. And at her hands.

He was screwing everything in her life up. He was even digging into emotions Rukia had never realised she'd possessed, and it was necessary that he was stopped. He was doing it purposefully to destroy her.

Even when he was pissed at her, she could still feel the scorching gaze of lust or want burning behind his fringe each time they passed.

She just hoped her expression conveyed less than his.

But each time her eyes combed over the thickness of his muscles beneath his shirts, and the way he had felt pressed hard up against her in his office made her skin hot and her body ache.

Perhaps it was the tension and the knowledge that she could have had him, but she didn't.

For several reasons.

It was not common for Rukia to sleep with her work associates… and bosses.

Or… sleep with people who do not have some sort of positive emotional significance to her.

Or sleep with people in general…

But for some reason… the pull towards Ichigo Kurosaki was growing stronger each time she so much as brushed shoulders with him.

And it had to stop.

Sexual activity was a topic in Rukia's mind she tended to stray away from wherever possible. That area of her life had always been a little messed up and she supposed the reason it kept cropping up was due to her anxiety about seeing Kaien that night.

Would he be able to keep himself away?

The answer arrived abruptly once Kaien had landed the finishing blow on his opponent's battered face, the animalistic grin etched onto his face, a wicked glint deep in the emerald depths of his eyes – one that made Rukia's spine lock. His face turned towards her and he nodded his head as if seeking approval.

Rukia remained impassive, and just surveyed him emptily, coming to the conclusion that at that moment the majority of people in her life were all vile subjects of selfishness.

Kaien was nothing but a peacock, strutting up to his personal trainer and receiving praise where it was clearly due. Soon after, he disappeared, deciding he'd finally had enough of the attention of all the females close by him.

It wasn't long before Rukia felt a light tap on her shoulder, "Miss Kuchiki? Shiba is asking after you. He's in the changing rooms."

Standing up and brushing down her dress, Rukia sent the young man a tight smile, "I'm sure he is. I'll be in the lobby."

The young man paused, but nodded slowly, "I'll let him know."

"You can also let him know that I'm setting off in three minutes, so if he needs me before that point, he had better hurry."

This time, the young man's eyes widened, "Is there a way I can put that into… ah… different terms?"

Shaking her head, pleasantly, Rukia replied, "Not at all." With that, she set off at a brusque walk, already counting the seconds on her watch.

"Rukia!" Kaien's voice reached her just as she approached the exit, "I made it in two minutes and forty nine seconds!" He called, reaching out to grab her wrist, pulling her back to him, "That means I have eleven seconds to persuade you to join me for dinner."

"That isn't nearly a substantial amount of time to try and persuade me." Rukia decided, "I'm not feeling well, Kaien. I need to go home."

"Rukia." Kaien said, quietly, "Are you not proud of me?"

He was a child.

Rukia could barely fathom it.

How was it possible for a powerful man so manipulative and headstrong to physically and mentally seek to hurt and abuse her, but then appear so vulnerable and desperate for her approval? Rukia had always assumed he'd had traits of narcissism, which could still be true, she imagined; but similarly, why did he crave her endorsement as though her opinion actually mattered. She knew he didn't love her.

She knew he desired control and power. With Rukia, perhaps she had allowed herself to be an easy target, and now she was slipping from his fingertips, he was working from a different angle.

But the torture in his eyes was real.

"Kaien. Of course I'm proud of you." The smartest tactic was to agree with Kaien at that moment. It seemed he had triggers that flung him into different moods. Biting back disgust as she reached up to touch his face, Rukia smiled softly, and hoped he could not see the insincerity.

"Then let me join you." He begged.

"I… I can't." She sighed.

The darkness in his eyes deepened, "Tell me what the reason is and I will eliminate it. I will eliminate anything and everything if I have to. Is it Byakuya?"

Rukia sighed, "The reason, Kaien, is that–"

She could barely tell him the truth that he physically repulsed her and also traumatised her, particularly when they were alone, for fear of her safety. He would not take kindly to it. She could not wound his ego because he must have still felt the testosterone and the adrenalin from his fight pumping through his veins. She had to be smart.

"–I have to organise myself. We can focus on our future once all of this is over. I need you to give me my next plan of action."

"Your next plan of action is to use your initiative." Kaien bit, raising an eyebrow, his mood already seeming to change, "Rukia, I don't think you understand that I need you. I need to be inside you."

Brushing away the revulsion waving through her body at his words, Rukia shook his head, "No, you don't."

"Why are you so goddamn difficult?!" He growled, grabbing a hold of her wrist and pulling her outside, "I can see you reading into me like you're a shrink. Stop speaking to me as though I'm a threat to you. This is a relationship. You are mine."

Rukia was already shaking her head, sick of trying to avoid the conversation she knew they would end up having anyway, "I am not your girlfriend, Kaien. I work for you to pay off a debt my brother owes you and I'm beginning to wonder why I am such a significant part to your master plans. Bringing Kurosaki down is no longer meaningful enough to me to continue putting myself through this with you."

"He hasn't told you?" Kaien's voice was cold as he allowed his authority to take hold of his stance.

"Who hasn't told me what?"

Kaien allowed a slow cruel laugh to escape his lips, "I know about your past. I know what you've done, Rukia. The reason you are still as successful as you are is because I am keeping all of your dirty secrets locked away where nobody will find them. Both yours, and your darling brother's." He smirked, "You are my prize and my leverage. You will make me more money working for me than you will if I accidentally let your past leak out to the press. You're valuable to me. But you're also costing me."

"You're lying." Rukia whispered, her heart speeding up; Byakuya had sealed that information away so tightly it could not be accessed… unless…

Surely Byakuya wouldn't. He wouldn't.

Kaien's sneer widened, "You thought you owed your brother such a big debt, didn't you? He's just as greedy and power-hungry as the rest of us. Once his money started slipping away, he had to give me something to chew on."

"You're lying." Rukia repeated.

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. Either way, I am already beginning to picture what the headlines will be plastered all over the news: Former writer and millionaire Rukia Kuchiki past uncovered. Or what about Rukia Kuchiki, former add–"

"Stop." She whispered, falling back a step.

Kaien just laughed, "I've been nice to you so far. It's strange the hold you have in me. I can't stop thinking about you. But it's starting to get dangerous. For both of us. You've already caught me off-guard once or twice. But not anymore."

Rukia stood still. She refused to believe it. Point blank refused.

Byakuya wouldn't do something so reckless. It would uncover the truth about his past too.

Kaien ran a hand through his hair, the smirk fading as he pulled her towards him, squeezing hard, "I'm not going to punish you tonight. But you will start treating me with more respect because you realise there's much more to this than just getting out of debt. I hold your lives in the palm of my hand. Don't tempt me to crush them. So you will bring down Kurosaki and you will do exactly what I want you to do without question. I will stop being nice and just come and take exactly what I want from you whenever I want it unless you start treating me with the respect I deserve."

Rukia was feeling herself slip backwards into that same dark abyss she'd been consumed by before.

No.

Turning away, Rukia said nothing else. She would not fight Kaien. Not right away. She would trust nobody and love nobody.

This time, if she wanted to succeed, she had to do it on her own.

Kaien let her go, but he allowed himself a laugh to accompany her to her car.

Rukia drove.

She had no idea where to, but it didn't matter.

She would rather be anywhere except home.

She had to figure it out.

Her car pulled to a halt and she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was the burning she experienced in her chest telling her to stop. She had to be imagining that sensation though – or at least imagining the fact that the only other time she had felt it was when she was near Kurosaki.

Leaning forwards, Rukia wound her arms around herself, her head resting on the steering wheel. She was trying desperately to keep it together. She had to. She was made of stronger material than this.

Conquer, or die.