Enpitsu: Hey everyone, I'm back! Did you all miss me? Haha, more like you missed my fic, huh? Ah well, I get enough love from my homework. Sorry this took so long, but if you read in the chapter three note, you'll see what's been going on. Thanks so much for giving this another chance! Warning: some OOCness in the spirit of Sakura PMSing and Syaoran being a little perv.

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS or anything else you've heard of in media. That's the last time I'll say it in this fic.

Claim: I freaking own this plot and if ANYONE tries to copy the plot (i.e.: date to get engaged, owning a company WHILE they are engaged because it (the company) is obviously important, and such) you will be tenaciously hunted down.

Aw Heck No: An Ultimatum
Chapter Four
Annoying Interlude

Sakura comically wheezed as she clutched many shopping bags in her hands, which were becoming slightly numb. The rest of her day had been spent with Kuri and Meilin shopping for new clothes. The girl had had enough of girl clothes for the rest of the year – and maybe even more.

Unfortunately for the poor girls working for Syaoran, he had specific wants about the skirts his employees wore. The longest they could go was right below the knee and the shortest was where your fingertips would touch if your arms hung at your sides. Sakura was pretty sure there was some rule against rules like these, but she just couldn't remember what they were. And no one else was saying anything so she beared it with an upturned chin.

The Kinomoto was now in the elevator of some top notch apartment building, making its way up to Syaoran's penthouse. From what Meilin had said, his penthouse was more like the entire top-most floor of the building. Sakura snorted slightly. Talk about modest.

With a ding, the silver elevator doors gracefully slid open. Sakura took a deep breath and clutched the handles of the bags as she stepped out of the velvet-crimson mode of transportation. The doors immediately opened like the door of house, which opened right into Syaoran's floor. The girl's eyes widened in amazement at what she saw.

The marigold living room alone was large enough to be her brother and her room combined. It donned one huge, leather couch and two smaller love-seats. A plasma television–which seemed to as wide as Sakura was tall–relaxed on the wall opposite of her.

There were bookshelves lined on the bottom parts of the wall but held some things other than books. Sakura dropped the heavy bags and made her way to the things that had recently attracted her attention.

The picture frames were few and far between–only five in the whole room. While she had been in Syaoran's office, Sakura had noticed a frame as well, but its back was turned to her while it had faced the young man sitting at his desk. The young woman finally saw what the picture was here though, and suffered great disappointment. Syaoran's arm was around the petite shoulders of some blonde.

Why she had thought that he would have some heart-warming pictures, Sakura didn't know. I guess he really is shallow, she thought, looking around at the other pictures which were similar to the first one. The only things really different in the photos were the fact that they all held different girls.

Sakura was about to grab her bags up again and look for her beloved until she heard a weird kind of noise. The girl stopped furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. There it was again. Her countenance changed to one that showed an indignant glare. It was a giggle? And a down right girly one, at that.

The girl looked around, trying to find the source of the annoying voice box. The giggle was high and airy, which annoyed the pants off of Sakura. She wasn't sure why, but she wasn't in the mood for any of that at the moment. She used her ears to walk past the kitchen and some kind of study–which she couldn't help but admire for a millisecond.

When she came to a closed, dark wood door, she stopped and stared at it. There was no way he could've forgotten she was coming over, right? If so, then why was there some other person of her gender giggling in his room? Plain and simple hospitality rules rushed through her mind and Sakura wondered if he had ever had a guest which hadn't shared the same room–or bed –as he.

Her feminine grip closed around the somewhat round doorknob and she fought with herself to open it. It was rude but so was having someone else...do that while someone is staying over. She finally got her bearing and turned the knob, opening it to the scene inside.

It was dimly lit inside but that didn't hinder Sakura from seeing what the truth was. It wasn't really rated R but the girl was still drawing a blank to summon up rage. Instead, her face was disgusted and appalled as Syaoran's was of one who's hand was caught in the cookie jar.

"Shit," he muttered. The blonde from the photo quickly shut her shirt and Syaoran rolled over so she could sit up straight. The two women regarded each other silently as the man was dreading it–it was the calm before the storm.

"Oh, hi," the blonde greeted with a Botox smile. "I'm Makiko. You must be the new maid here."

Whether or not she meant it nicely because she was dense or not, no one would ever know because Sakura's eyes narrowed dangerously. All right, so she wasn't dressed as fashionable Makiko was but that gave her no right to assume she was a freaking maid!

"Pleasure to meet you, Makiko," Sakura said politely. "I'm Sakura, by the way."

The Kinomoto made her way over to Syaoran's slightly ruffled bed and sat on his other side and put her chin on his shoulder while her arms wrapped around his torso. Makiko looked shocked and so did Syaoran.

"And I'm not the maid. I'm his fiancee."

"What?" Makiko screamed, standing up. She promptly sprang up and slapped the heir across the face, before storming out. Sakura laughed mischievously in her mind.

That'll teach 'em.

"What the hell was that for?" Syaoran demanded, amber eyes blaring. Sakura immediately let go of the young man and stood up, hands on her hips.

"You need to learn how to be courteous to guests!" she retorted smartly. Syaoran quickly stood up and proved to be a good few inches taller than his girl.

"It's not like I meant to have you hear it," he said, trying to calm her down. He was annoyed at the fact he hadn't gotten what he wanted, but so was Sakura for a different reason.

"That's not the point!" she said loudly, throwing her hands up in the air. "You have no respect for guests!"

"You're over-reacting," Syoran said hastily. "It's not like we have something going on. You're just my fiancee."

Sakura stared at him, momentarily speechless. That didn't last long though. "I know we don't have anything going on and that we just met, but think about what you just said. I'm your FIANCEE. I used to respect you–though little as it was–but I still respected you. But now that's gone since obviously you don't respect me."

And with that she walked away from Syaoran, leaving him to chew on her words. And chew on him, he did.

Who did this girl think she was? Syaoran scratched his head. That was the second time he had wondered that about Sakura. He was beginning to really think that she would be the death of him.

And so what if he had another girl over? It was a bad habit–like smoking. He wouldn't AND couldn't give up a hobby like women in a few hours. Sure, he really had forgotten she was coming, but that didn't give her the right to lecture him in his own damn house.

Syaoran settled to set on his bed, face in his hands. If I don't make this work, mother might just make us get married sooner, he thought. But how the hell am I supposed to make it work when neither of us wants it to?

The young man sighed. He wasn't going to admit defeat but he wasn't going to be a total ass. Maybe we could just act like it never happened. Syaoran groaned at his punishment. She doesn't know what I'm giving up so we could live like...civil people.

With a sulking brood, he walked out from his room. He remembered that Sakura had no idea where the hell her room was. Where was she right now? In the living room? In the kitchen? As he made his way to the aforementioned living room, he stopped in his stomping tracks. What the hell are these bags doing here?

There were about ten of them, all stamped with names he was actually aware of–meaning they were fashion labels. He stared at them as if they were from a foreign planet. Are these Makiko's? But as he reached into one and pulled a piece of clothing out, he realized he was wrong.

The skirt was a size four, which was rare even for him to encounter, and longer than one Makiko would wear–though it would be three inches above the knee. It was a light, pastel pink in color with a little bit of ruffle on the edge. Syaoran gave a amused little chuckle. So–this was Sakura's. He shrugged at the size and was about to go on with his business until an evil thought popped into his mind–if there were garments in these bags...there would also be under garments.

A devilishly conniving smirk took over his features as he quirked an eyebrow in curiosity. He dug through the plastic bags but couldn't find one to fit his quest. And then he saw it–a white and pink striped one. Of course he knew what that one symbolized.

Reaching for the Victoria's Secret bag, he almost snickered like Spongebob Squarepants on a panty raid. He got what he wanted and when he held it in his fingers, his eyebrows shot up in surprise and his amber eyes flickered wide at the two parabolas. He couldn't contain himself and laughed at his ignorance. That's definitely not what I expected.

Carefully putting the under garment back inside, he pat the bag as if to finalize his little treat. Syaoran stood up and started to look for Sakura, and no matter where he looked he couldn't find her. He crossed his arms in confusion and furrowed his brows.

Syaoran made his way to the downstairs lobby and saw one of the security guards standing duty–he was sleeping while leaning against the wall. The young man strode up to him, used to this normalcy.

"Hey, Ken," he barked, though to him it was like a regular voice, " Have you seen a girl come around here?"

Ken snapped awake, slowly blinking his blue eyes open. He looked around as if lost, then saw amber eyes steeling into his own. "U-Uh, Makiko, sir? She just passed by a few minutes ago–."

"No, this girl was different. My days with Makiko–and every other girl–are over," he muttered, and finished with a dramatic sigh. As the guard stared at him, slightly weirded out, he continued. "No, she was brunette–highlights; these big, green, bright, stupid-looking eyes; she was...yay tall."

As he finished, he brought his hand to just below his mouth. Ken looked at the estimation and nodded, rubbing his neck tiredly.

"That cute girl?" he asked, making sure he knew who Syaoran was talking about. It was Syaoran's turn to give him a strange look.

"Yeah, if you're into that kind of ditsy girl...," he muttered, still slightly peeved at her. But Ken shrugged, then nodded.

"She came out only a few minutes after Makiko did, sir," he replied. "She seemed to be in a hurry to go somewhere... But she didn't have anything with her."

Syaoran stood silent for a few seconds, deciding what he should do. I could either care less and go back inside, only to have mother cut all my funding...or I could suck it up and pretend to give a damn.

"Which way did she go?"

"She went that way, sir," Ken said, pointing to the right. Syaoran sighed and ran a hand through his aggravated, chestnut locks.

"Thanks," he hurriedly said, and jogged down the sidewalk Ken pointed to. The other man looked after Syaoran, and sighed as well.


Author's Note: This is just a small preview, just in case everyone forgot how I write. Lol. Well, please review (it's my birthday on Tuesday), and thanks for reading!