Chapter 2
How do you know you can trust me? You don't . . .
The deep murmuring voice was the first thing she heard when her mind woke up, floating thoughts coming together in a brilliant moment of consciousness.
Breathing in the tangy yet unfamiliar scent clinging to the sheets, Utena slowly opened her eyes to an original Degas painting dominating the wall across from the bed.
And the tall red-haired man, visible in the next room through the open door, speaking softly into a cell phone.
She could feel the softness of the champagne silk sheets against her skin, and her feet and calves lay exposed to the cool air. The fragile silver belly chain that she never took off was pushed up against one breast.
What the . . . Momentary panic dissolved as the events of last night crashed through the remaining tendrils of Utena's sleepy mind. The Academy. Talking. Drinking. Touga.
She could feel the softness of the champagne silk sheets against her skin. Shit.
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14 hours earlier . . .
"Wait, where's Mitsuru?" Keiko turned to Shiori as they approached the end of a long line of people trying to get inside The Academy.
Shiori gave Keiko a blank look and adjusted her green tube top. She'd been too busy concentrating on not falling down in the new pair of Jimmy Chus after the three had exited the taxicab.
Keiko turned around and peered through the crowd of loud twenty-somethings sprawled across the sidewalk. Mitsuru stood by the street lamp flashing a kilowatt smile at a Ralph Lauren model wannabe. Laughing huskily, Mitsuru leaned over to write her phone number on the guy's forearm before sauntering over to her partners.
"Did you miss me?" Mitsuru teased.
Keiko rolled her eyes but couldn't keep the grin off her face. The girl was practically born with game.
"Are we good?" Shiori asked. Makeup check. Clothes check. Shoes check. Hair check. Purse-sized derringers check.
Striding to the front of the line, the girls blew air kisses to the bouncers and entered the hottest nightclub in the city. Flashing lights from the disco balls on the main level cut colored swatches across the girls' cheeks as they took in the scene. Techno music thumped, bodies writhed, and the deejays bumped beats across the main dance floor and two stages.
"Okay ladies—drinks first. And then, well, we'll see who's hot and who's hiding something," Shiori drawled.
The nearest bar was crowded, and the girls employed some not-so-gentle shoving to get to the counter.
"Hey gorgeous. Can I buy you a drink?" A light voice purred in Keiko's ear, jarring her from her admiration of the structure.
Keiko looked into a pair of light brown eyes, attached to Diesel jeans and a blue Armani shirt.
This night is going to rock. Keiko smiled at the stranger and nodded her head in assent.
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"This sucks!" Utena wailed to no one in particular as she gazed for the hundredth time at the mountain of skirts and pants and shirts hiding her bed from sight.
Leather pants mingled with soft halter dresses and spaghetti-strap tops. Prince gave happy meows from beneath a pile of long, short, and in-between length skirts.
Utena stood in front of the floor-length mirror and wrinkled her nose. The black Capri pants and turquoise halter top looked great, but she wasn't dressing up for a night of fun damn it. She was dressing for work. She needed something… sexier. She needed to be dressed to kill. Literally.
From the age of 13, Utena had felt the second glances from the boys at school, the not-so-hidden appraisals from her bodyguards at her aunt's house.
Aunt Yurika had despaired of her basketball-loving, soccer-kicking, martial-arts training niece ever bringing home a boyfriend. Little did she know that Utena was already practicing sloppy kisses with a select few boys from the male teams who used the same practice spaces as the girls did.
Until she had kicked Touga in the head with a soccer ball during a game.
How could I have ever thought this was going to be easy? Utena cringed at the thought of dressing up for Touga, trying to lure him with her body and her wits.
"Hiya Touga. I know we haven't seen each other in, oh I don't know, eight years, but I'm going to need you to talk to me and tell me all about your plans for Dios's Tears."
The reflection grinned mockingly.
With a deep sigh and a quick glance at the clock—11:03 p.m.—Utena shed the clothes and rifled through the clothes for outfit number 199. If this one didn't work out, then Dios screw it, she was going to go to the damn club anyway.
So what if Touga didn't look twice at her? She didn't want the job anyway. The Ohtoris could rot in hell for all she cared.
The ring on Utena's finger began to glow, and the flash of heat against the skin made her gasp.
I'm not going to not do it, you morons.
Rubbing her thumb over the underside of the ring, Utena tightly shielded her thoughts and waited for the ring to cool to body temperature once more. The blood-oath tying her life to the Ohtori family for an indeterminable amount of time was getting more sensitive over the years. Just a prolonged sequence of traitorous thoughts was enough to trigger a reaction from the ring now.
Great. Just great.
She closed her eyes and grabbed a few things buried on the bed. Opening her eyes, Utena saw she had grabbed a stretchy white skirt, a backless black shirt, and some silver belts.
Sandals with the ties caressing her calves completed the outfit.
Not quite. Utena ran her finger along engraved letters on the handle of the razor-sharp stiletto knife. Her grandfather had given it to her father at age thirteen after he had killed an assassin sent by the Kyouichi family.
The knife lay nestled inside the impossibly small clutch purse. With any luck, Utena thought, I'll be back in time to finish the notes for the museum tour tomorrow morning.
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"Hey Utena!" Shiori screeched over the booming beats on the main level of the Academy as she spotted the girl ordering a drink at one of the bars.
Utena turned her head and gave a brief polite smile. Shiori's eyes were glazed, her face glowed with perspiration, and liquor spilled from a loosely held glass.
"Did you just get here?" The girl giggled as an equally shiny boy reached over and put his hand on her hip, pulling her towards him.
How unprofessional. Utena sighed. Shiori did not look as if she would be getting any pertinent information on the Dragon Pearl anytime soon.
"Yes, I just got here. Have Keiko or Mitsuru met anybody . . . interesting?" Utena took a sip of her drink and directed a pained glare at Shiori.
The girl remained oblivious. "Umm, I haven't seen them in awhile. I dunno what's going on with them."
That did it. Utena grabbed Shiori's wrist and jerked her forward.
The boy sputtered in surprise, but his voice of protest died at the warning look on the woman's face.
"Listen you little twerp," Utena hissed, giving the girl a shake, "this is not supposed to be fun. You are here to work. W-O-R-K. If you shake your booty, it's to get some info or set a trap. Go screw up on somebody else's watch."
In her tipsy state Shiori could do no more than gape after Utena as she stormed into the heart of the writhing bodies on the dance floor.
Dancers sensed her before she even appeared, and men and women alike sent admiring glances to the leggy pink-haired figure in her barely-there skirt. Utena began rolling her hips to the music as quick glances noted where the security guards were stationed, the staircase to the VIP floor, and groups of people chatting or making out on the plush sofas along the periphery.
Apparently, The Academy's insanely hot and famous owner liked to make an appearance whenever he was in town. The overwhelming hordes of scantily-clad women and the large number of incognito bodyguards—Utena easily recognized the posture and strength of the elegantly dressed men scattered around the club—confirmed that tonight was probably such a night.
Now if only the bastard would just get here all ready.
She shrugged off the tiny stream of panic screaming to be careful what you wished for . . .
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Keiko plopped down on an empty cushion and removed her shoes, sighing at the temporary relief of her toes from their Baby Phat shoe bondage. The basement hip hop/reggaeton floor was just as large and just as packed as the main floor, and she had suffered several toe stompings and ass squeezes on her way to the lounging area.
Mr. Armani shirt had been a hot but awkward dancer, and she had since moved on to other guys over the next hour or so. The few bartenders on the main floor she had been able to grab for 30 second conversation were charming but unhelpful. And the master himself had yet to make an appearance, so only exclusive guests were allowed into the VIP floor as yet.
A waitress dressed in the requisite school girl attire: crotch-length plaid skirt, tiny navel-baring white collared shirt, and white knee-length socks walked by and leaned over to pick up abandoned glasses and bottles at the table next to Keiko, revealing a gorgeous red, orange, and gold bird on her lower back.
Keiko looked at the tattoo admiringly; the artist had painted it to look as if the bird had one wing made of fire, the tendrils jagged like feathers.
As the waitress straightened and turned to move on, Keiko noticed a shock of electric blue appear, a brightness that stood out in the darkened room. Searching over the grinding bodies, her eyes raised to the deejay platform, and Keiko realized the blue belonged to the young man standing behind the speakers and turntables.
Vivid blue hair topped off a muscular upper body clad in a white shirt and baggy jeans. She wouldn't even have noticed him if a ceiling light had not highlighted the platform for a few seconds before moving on to another part of the room. Keiko pushed her feet into the heels and stood up, preparing herself to wedge, squeeze, and slink her way through the sweaty bodies to get to the deejay.
She couldn't explain why she was so intent on reaching him. He looked beautiful in the shadows, so she figured he probably looked good in full light, but this wasn't just lust kicking into gear.
Deftly avoiding a hand trying to grab her chest, Keiko locked her eyes onto the boy and willed him to look up. Just staring wouldn't be enough; she dipped her finger into the small well of power she had been given by Kanae after completing her training and shoved the energy into her gaze, just like Mikage had taught her.
The boy's head jerked up as if it was on a puppet's string, and his knowing eyes quickly scanned the crowds below before they found Keiko. She was halfway across the floor by now, but looking into his eyes she felt like he was right in front of her.
And then she felt a metaphysical hand push her back, back into the crowds. Her guard was not prepared and her physical body did move back, almost until she was by the lounge again. Keiko felt a small tendril of fear begin to curl in her belly. How could she have been so overwhelmed so quickly?
But when she looked up and saw the glowing blue eyes of the deejay before he looked down at the turntables and the smirk on his face, her fear turned to irritation.
"Oh no you don't," she muttered, pushing her way onto the dance floor again. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."
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Utena sensed him before he even entered the front door. For one second she stood frozen, earning a questioning look from her dance partner, Todd or Tom or something. But the moment passed and Utena gave Todd/Tom a smile and asked him to get her a Cuba Libre.
Entering the woman's bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her top left nothing to the imagination and a large pink freshwater pearled nestled loving in her cleavage. Her hair looked sexily tousled from dancing, and the makeup made her eyes look smoky and alluring.
"It's just a job," she chanted to herself, walking out the door. Just a job. You're over him, he's clearly over you. Just a job. Just a job.
The high levels of excitement radiated around the room like a gaudy rainbow, and the woman started screaming when Touga sauntered in, framed by his posse of security, rich friends, and barely-legal aged models.
He posed for pictures and gave lingering kisses to the few women lucky enough to throw themselves at him before his bodyguards stepped up and created a human barrier to block easy access to their master.
The long silky red hair. The tall lean body framed in Armani. The wicked smile that made recipients, men or women, want to wrap themselves around him. Pale blue-gray eyes that could fill with rage or lust or humor and rapidly drain to nothing.
He was walking past, a model clinging to each arm. Shuddering, Utena fought to contain the tingling of her skin. She would die a thousand deaths at the hands of a thousand swords before she would ever admit how much he affected her.
Eight years was a long time, and the abrupt end to the banishment, both self-inflicted and family-decreed, from each other's presence was creating havoc inside her. He was just so much more than he had been at sixteen. His aura glittered, his personality dazzled, and the boy who had once shunned the press had turned into a media darling. He was more polished than Utena remembered, his emotions more controlled.
An object of desire, belonging to everyone and no one. The persona had been lovingly crafted by a master, and few could guess where Touga the glitzy star ended and Touga the man began. Or if they were one and the same.
Bracing herself, Utena dropped the mind shields that hid her presence from the Kiryuu heir. The air rippled, and her body tensed briefly as her power bubbled inside and then settled again.
Only those intent on Touga's feet would have noticed his slight stumble.
"Touga." Utena whispered his name on an enchanted breath that floated straight to his ears. Her armor was back in place, and she arrogantly threw the gauntlet at the playboy's feet.
Head tilted up, Utena caught Touga's searching eyes. She raised both eyebrows and parted her lips as if to speak, and then let her tongue slowly lick her bottom lip.
Touga's eyes narrowed, and he leaned over to one of the security guards and whispered in his ear. Not looking at Utena again, Touga and his groupies walked past one of the bars and up the stairs to the VIP floor as the dancers continued to gawk and shout for pictures and kisses.
Silently applauding to herself for unsettling the hotshot and not melting into a puddle at his feet, Utena turned to walk toward a sofa and plan her next move when a large hand touched her shoulder.
She stiffened and turned to curse out the fool who thought he was trying to be cute but looked up into the hard face of the bodyguard with whom Touga had just spoken.
"If you are about to escort me from this club, then I would suggest you remove your hand before you find it on the floor by your feet." Utena stated simply.
The man gave a cocky "yeah right lady" smile but took his hand away. "Actually, I was just gonna say that Mr. Kiryuu requests your company in the Chocolate Room. Now."
And what Mr. Kiryuu wants, Mr. Kiryuu gets. The unsaid words hung in the air between them.
Utena pondered what this big man would do if she said no. As much as she wanted to knock the smug smile off his face and have him babbling for mercy at her feet, Utena figured she probably shouldn't attract negative attention to herself right now.
But she mentally noted his features and saved the information for a day in the not-so-distant future when she could kick his ass.
Pasting a fake smile on her face, Utena beamed at the bodyguard. "Ohmygod, really? Oh wow, I, like, can't believe this!"
Let him think she was some Touga worshipper Utena smiled to herself as she followed the now relaxed bodyguard past the security guards and up the stairs to the VIP floor.
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Keiko lined up behind the girls hanging on the stairs leading up to the deejay platform. Each made their music requests and sent lustful glances at the deejay before moving on when he didn't respond, until Keiko was standing before him.
He didn't look up. One hand pressing a headphone to his ear, the other expertly flipping through a case of records, he kept his face down and ignored Keiko's soft "umm, excuse me."
After a few more attempts, Keiko finally leaned forward until her face was practically in his neck and shouted, "Hey you!"
The boy turned his head in annoyance, but then he noticed it was her. A flash of something, maybe surprise, maybe fear, crossed his face but then was gone, to be replaced by the smirk.
"So, you made it through the jungle." He drawled.
"Yeah, no thanks to you." She returned with a tight smile. The jerk.
He started to laugh. "Well, what would you do if someone tried to compel you to do something? It wasn't very polite of you, that's for damn sure."
Keiko couldn't help but smile. His laugh made her want to laugh too, and he looked more mischievous than upset.
"Well, I kinda wanted to get your attention. Sorry about that." Keiko apologized. The inexplicable draw he had for her still whirled in her mind. She needed to make him comfortable enough to talk.
"I'm Keiko." Rather than press forward and give him a look down her top, like the other girls had tried to do, Keiko stuck out her hand.
He raised his eyebrow in surprise, but gave her a wicked grin and took her hand in his. "I'm Miki. Nice to meet cha."
Over the next half hour Keiko alternated between asking Miki about his job and throwing frozen looks at any girl who dared climb the steps and interrupt them. Miki would laugh as the girls scampered away in fright, but he never asked Keiko to stop. If anything, Keiko got the sense that he was relieved to be left alone for a while.
"So why The Academy? I mean, there a lot of really amazing clubs around here and with your talent you could have spun anywhere." Keiko casually reached over and pulled a feather from someone's crazy outfit out of Miki's hair.
Miki shrugged. "I mean, I'd done some private parties for Mr. Kiryuu before and the pay was always really good. So when he asked me to do this and threw in all these bonuses and stuff, it seemed like a good idea."
Hmmm. So Miki knew Touga personally. Keiko tried to read more into it, but Miki, with all his laughter and personality, was strangely . . .unreadable.
She infused the right blend of delight and awe into her voice. "You mean, you know Touga Kiryuu personally? How did you guys meet? What's he like Miki?"
Miki rolled his eyes and gave a fake groan. "Not you too Keiko. Say it ain't so!" They laughed at that, and Miki then inquired about her night.
Was he avoiding the question? Keiko mentioned Mr. Armani's terrible dancing, the guys she had danced with and the run away from, and how she had "misplaced" her friends.
"So I guess you like blue." Miki offered helpfully. At Keiko's look of confusion, Miki pointed to his hair. "I've got blue hair and you practically fought threw World War III to get over here. That first dude you danced with had a blue shirt. And you are wearing the hottest little blue dress I have ever seen."
Keiko felt her face turn bright red. Did he just say that? Dios, Dios, did he just call my dress hot?
She tried to collect her thoughts, unnerved that that little comment could fluster her so easily. "Umm, so, yeah, tell me how you know Touga Kiryuu again?"
Miki shot her a strange look. "I already told you I deejayed at some of his private parties."
"No," Keiko tried to give a disarming smile, "I mean how did you guys meet? How did he even know you existed?"
Fading one song out while layering the opening bars of the next song, Miki turned away, a serious look on his face for the first time.
"Do we have to see to believe that anything exists? The firebird becomes eternal it is very cycle of mortality, but who can claim to actually seeing the creature?" He stated softly.
"Excuse me?" Keiko asked in confusion. What the hell was Miki talking about?
The serious look vanished, and Miki turned back to her, all laughing eyes. "Nothing babe. I was just going to say that Mr. Kiryuu attended a birthday party I did for some fashion magazine executive a couple of years ago, and he asked for my card. He's been hiring me off and on every since."
Miki shrugged it off like it was no big deal, and as Keiko opened her mouth to ask another question, he leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on her lips.
Gaping from the unexpected move, Keiko just stared at him, her next question gone in a haze of embarrassment.
"I hope you don't think I'm cheeky, but I've been dying to do that since you got here." Miki grinned smugly.
Keiko shook her head slowly and returned Miki's grin. Inside though, she couldn't help but wonder whether Miki's kiss had been a genuine desire or a strategic maneuver worthy of an Ohtori general. What in Dios's name had Miki been talking about? And why did she get the sense that he was hiding something from her?
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The Chocolate Room was nestled between the Champagne Room and the Principle's Office. Boxes of chocolates rested on every oak table and chocolate fountains surrounded by fruit, cakes, and liquor drew one's attention to the center of the room.
A Jacuzzi and sauna in the corner complemented the exotic jungle flowers placed around furniture, and a discreet chocolate massage could be held behind a gold-leaf folding screen.
Lit candles positioned around the room created an atmosphere of elegance and intimacy.
The perfect room for seduction.
The Champagne Room had been noisy, but when Utena entered the Chocolate Room, she was surprised to notice no one inside. She had expected Touga would want to meet her in a crowd, surrounded by his adoring fans as he attempted to break her. And she'd been ready for it.
But this . . . never one to let good chocolate go to waste, Utena dipped a strawberry into the chocolate fountain and moaned at the delicious taste exploding in her mouth.
I'll say one thing for you Touga, she thought as she picked up some pound cake, you can sure pick your chocolate.
Minutes passed, and Utena began to wonder if this had been Touga's plan all along. Pay her back for daring to encroach on his territory by making her squirm. Alone.
Fuck this. Utena grabbed a couple of chocolate-covered cherries and began walking toward the door when a voice floated from behind her.
"Where are you going, princess?"
Turning swiftly, Utena saw Touga finish wrapping a towel around his waist and walk toward her from behind the folding screen.
Eight years. Utena just stared, traitorous eyes eating up every inch of Touga's exposed chest and legs. Too long her spirit chided, it's been too long.
"Nowhere, I guess." Her voice came out cool and steady. She let her eyes run up the length of Touga's body, making sure he noticed what she was doing.
Utena took a step forward. "Hello Touga." She had to fight from bursting out laughing. Touga's face had looked amused, but at her perusal the look turned to one of confusion. Now there was just wariness.
The bird and the cat faced each other and planned their next moves.
Touga remained where he was. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence at my club tonight?"
Utena took another step forward. "Do I need a reason to go out, have fun? This place is supposed to be the hottest club in town." She turned her head and ran a finger along her necklace, drawing attention to the pearl and her cleavage.
Touga stared at her in disbelief and then started laughing. And laughing.
Utena didn't move and kept her expression blank, although inside she seethed. Was he making fun of her? Was the bastard laughing at her?
"I'm sorry Princess," Touga chuckled, turning to grab a chocolate martini resting on a tray. "It's not that you aren't trying, 'cause if I were any other man I'd have you on that couch on top of me right about now, but this is me." He sobered. "And we have a history."
Dios, that is the understatement of the year. Despite Touga's words, Utena was far from being offended. In fact, she was relieved that after all these years she could still judge him accurately. He had challenged her obvious attempts, just as she wanted him to, and now assumed she'd come about their past. Perfect.
Utena sighed. "We do have a history Touga, and believe me I have no intention of demanding an apology or rehashing all of that—"
"An apology? From me?" Touga latched onto the idea, glad to release some of the tension that had been gripping his body since he'd felt Utena's aura downstairs.
"After what you did to me, don't you dare come here and start talking like what happened back then was my fault little girl." Touga strode over to Utena, forcing her to take a step back. He felt instantly better being on the offensive. Being back in control.
"After what I did?" What in Dios's name was Touga talking about? It had been all his fault—
he looked like he was spoiling for a fight and Dios help her so was she. But…she needed to focus. Utena changed tactics.
"I just really needed to see you again." She brushed back her hair and looked at Touga out of the corner of her eye. Her simple statement had halted his tirade. But the wariness remained.
"Why?" He bit out. What was The Tenjou up to now? For that's who stood before him, sleek and proud in her position as head of one of the ancient feuding families. Not the laughing girl who would push against him during a basketball game, who trembled so deliciously in his arms the first time they kissed.
He knew her too well for her to lie outright. "I've been…dreaming. Of you. Of my parents." The grief that colored the words was all too real, and years of training could not prevent Utena's voice from wobbling.
Dios, she really hadn't wanted him to see her like this. It was the ultimate irony that this vulnerability would probably do more for advancing her mission with him than a show of steel and toughness.
Candlelight caused Touga's hair to glow liquid fire as he stood, a still marble statue but for the sympathy and suspicion warring in his eyes.
Utena felt a shadow caress on her cheek yet Touga kept his distance, reigning in his power after a few precious moments.
Seconds passed. Hushed breathing was the only faint sound in the room as Utena and Touga stared at each other, Utena's raw words filling the giant space between them like a fraying bridge across a canyon.
And then the bridge snapped. "I cannot help you." Touga stated. He hesitated, as if to speak more, but just pressed his lips into a thin line and walked past Utena, past The Tenjou, past his child bride.
She remained standing until the door gave a quiet click behind Touga.
I. Cannot. Help. You. Each word pierced her spirit like nails hammered into a coffin, and now that she was truly alone, The Tenjou collapsed onto a lush ottoman. The trembling began in her legs and traveled up her back until her whole body was shaking.
The first time in eight years. Eight fucking years. And he doesn't fall for her siren act, he doesn't respond when she really reveals a glimpse of her inner pain, and he doesn't appear to want anything to do with her every again.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Utena slammed the palm of her hand against her forehead. What had she been thinking, trying to maneuver the firebird in his own lair? He was used to women throwing themselves at him, and he would know that she would never approach him of her own free will.
But she had been so sure that sharing a tart mix of a little truth stirred with a splash of pain and a squeeze of past comfort would make him at least willing to talk to her . . .
And what about that comment that the whole painful fiasco had been her fault? She wasn't the one who had struck the deal with The Kiryuu, she wasn't the one who had hired the car to kidnap herself for Dios's sake, in the middle of a fucking thunderstorm, no less.
Head aching, heartsick but refusing to yield an inch to even one happy memory of a time when she and Touga could not be in the same room without touching, Utena grabbed a bottle of Godiva White Chocolate Liqueur and poured herself a hefty glass.
I feel like the jilted lover in one of those 1940s flicks. The dame left standing in the rain, Utena sneered at herself. Well, if she was a jilted woman than she had better act like one and proceed to drink herself into oblivion.
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"Hey, lady, the club's closing." The bartender snapped his fingers in front of the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Shiny pink hair framed a pale face with striking blue eyes, impossibly long eyelashes, and glossy lips.
Unfortunately, the eyes were puffy, as if the woman had been crying, and the number of shot glasses lining the bar in front of her suggested that her increasingly failed attempts at muscle control may be alcohol-related.
"Miss," the bartender's voice softened, "Miss, would you like me to call you a cab?"
Damn this worthless mortal body. The essence of Tenjou raged inside the drunk girl, but not even an ancient power could fight the seduction of drinking one's pain away.
Utena heard the man's words through a haze and gave a slight nod of her head. The night had gone from bad to worse, and here she was doing exactly what she had cursed Shiori about only hours before. She was such a hypocrite.
The bartender stepped around the bar and went to get one of the security guards booming at the dancers to "get the hell out, the club's closed."
Just as the guard went over to gently helped the exquisite creature off the bar stool and over to a waiting taxi outside, the Kiryuu party came downstairs from the VIP floor, some of the drunk models stumbling on the arms of Touga's associates.
The security guard hesitated. Every time Mr. Kiryuu entered a room in the club, the security detail for that room had to check in and receive any updates or briefs before being released to their stations. Glancing at the pink-haired woman, he gathered she would be safe enough sitting at the bar for another couple of minutes.
The main floor grew quite as the crowds of revelers exited the building, until only the security guards, Touga, and his "guests"' were left.
"Get me three limos," Touga ordered one of his personal assistants, his unbuttoned shirt fluttering as he moved. He gave his guests a seductive smirk. "We're going to the Greenhouse."
The models tittered in excitement at the idea of visiting such a risqué establishment, and the men nudged each other knowingly. There'd be plenty of action at The Kyouichi gentleman's club.
"Yes Sir, right away Sir." One assistant flipped open his cell phone and began barking commands, and another rushed to grab 3 bottles of the expensive Maotai liquor from the nearby bar, Mr. Kiryuu's current favorite drink when en route.
Not noticing the leg of the bar stool, the rushed man found his foot caught along the smooth wood and pitched forward, crashing to the ground beneath the stool and the woman sitting in it.
Oomph! One second Utena sat daydreaming, imagining the utter bliss of her goose-down comforter and the next she laid sprawled on the ground on top of a stunned male body. The stool had banged into her hip bone on the way down, and she laid still, the pain from her hip adding more fuzziness to the liquor-induced haze.
Touga's head turned at the crashing sound, and he saw one of his assistants lying on the floor with a woman sprawled on top of him. A woman with unusual pink hair and a short white skirt that exposed way too much of her gorgeous gams.
And she wasn't moving. Before his heart could make its next beat, Touga was across the room on his knees. Gently touching a red mark that was blooming across Utena's face, Touga leaned closer.
"Utena." Touga couldn't keep the urgent note out of his voice. "Utena, are you all right?"
Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a second Touga could have sworn she was about to respond, but the eyes closed again and Utena sank limply back to the floor.
"I'm sorry Sir, I didn't see her, I mean I didn't notice—" The poor man looked ready to faint at the glare being leveled at him. His boss was not exactly known for second chances.
"Don't move." Touga hissed. He placed one hand under her neck and another beneath her knees, rolling her over and picking her up in one smooth motion.
Walking over to the group, he balanced Utena more comfortably in his arms and gave new orders to an assistant to get another limo to take him and his "friend" to his new penthouse.
The models whined when they realized he was not going to the Greenhouse with them, but when Touga handed them passes for a private show complete with full-body rubs, the group promptly forgot about him and piled into the waiting limos outside.
Shaking his head at the obviousness of groupies, Touga cradled Utena in his lap the entire ride to the six-star hotel. The bruise on her cheek stood out starkly on her pale face, and her breath and clothes reeked of sweet liquor. But her body was instant recognition, and he struggled not to crush her towards him in a greedy grasp of need.
This unconscious beauty, this backstabbing bitch was his other half and eight years apart hadn't changed a damn thing.
I will fight this, Touga said to himself as he carried Utena out of the private elevator leading to his penthouse apartment. I will fight this, the Kiryuu heir repeated as he laid her pliant body on the bed.
Frowning at the sticky wetness of her clothes—she had probably fallen into spilled alcohol on the floor—Touga's internal debate lasted a few seconds before the devil in him had her clothes off and a wet washcloth in hand to soothe her skin.
His hand trembled as he drew the cool cloth across her skin, but Touga kept his hand from lingering too long over any one body part. Until he got to her stomach.
The shock of seeing his ring, their ring, on a thin chain around her belly forced him to remove his hand as if burnt by fire. Which was laughable really, when his very essence was that of fire and heat. But Touga was not laughing.
Her lips had trembled and her eyes had teared up when he had slipped the modest pink diamond ring onto her finger.
But the very last time he had seen her, her lips had been curled in a mean sneer and her eyes and taunted him as she hurled abuses at him, rebuked him. Crushed him and his willing heart.
And their ring had been no where in site.
But here it lay, hanging from a simple, sexy silver belly chain that appeared to have no clasp, as if the wearer wasn't planning on removing it. Ever.
Touga could not take his eyes off the twinkling gem, and he didn't notice for a full five minutes that his thumb was brushing along the chain as if tracing a scar.
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Thanks for the reviews of Chapter 1!
