(Authors Note: Translation of conversation available at the bottom of the page for those interested.)
Chapter Two
According to her husband, Mrs. Shiratori had been in the baby's room, putting on the finishing touches, when he heard a strange noise. He'd gone to look and found her collapsed on the floor. Overexertion was what the doctors had said. She would be on bed rest for the next month until her baby was born.
Seto couldn't help but think, in his already mentally compromised state, that it was his fault. He should have pushed harder for her to take the early maternity leave he'd offered. He should have lightened her load a little, should have put hiring her temporary replacement at the top of his list. He shouldn't have let his inflated sense of self-importance compromise her health.
He told her husband that he would be extending her maternity until December.
It was the worst weekend for sleep that he'd had in a long time. The ghost of his father's voice was nagging at the back of his mind. Insistent.
Lazy shit.
Failure.
This is on you, boy.
When he crawled out of bed Monday morning, he struggled with himself as to whether he should call his old psychiatrist. It'd been almost three years since the last time he'd seen her, perhaps it was overdue.
Wouldn't that make a pretty picture? Seto Kaiba, the youngest billionaire of the century, mentally unstable. The thought of the tabloid headlines made him sick to his stomach.
No. There were things to do. The most pressing of which he'd had to wait to settle until that morning.
Mrs. Shiratori's replacement.
A Google search had told him that there was only one temp agency in the city that opened at 5:30 am. So he sat in his office, fingers drumming against the desk, watching the digital display of his office phone creep ever closer. When the half-hour clicked over he picked up the receiver and dialed.
It rang half a dozen times before someone picked up, answering in a voice that was too peppy for his mood. "Employment Solutions, Yuri speaking, how may I help you?"
"This is Seto Kaiba, of Kaiba Corporation. I need a secretary for my executive office today."
"Today? Let's see…"
Each tap of the woman's keyboard was akin to chalk on a blackboard. There was a rustle as if she had moved the receiver away from her ear. Then there were what sounded like muffled whispers.
Just when his impatience was set to boil over, she came back on the line. "Thank you for waiting. We have Miss Kisa Miyoshi available. I'm afraid she's only been with us a few weeks, so she's not as trained as we'd prefer. Will that be a problem? If so, we can set you up with-"
Seto's jaw clenched. "Just get me someone who can do the job. My office opens at eight."
The office didn't officially open until eight, but Seto was there by 7:30. It meant one of his security guards would have to take Mokuba to practice, but that didn't seem to matter. Mokuba hadn't wanted to even look at him all weekend. Though he'd at least said 'good morning' today, so perhaps his anger was starting to subside.
Seto spent the extra time preparing. He packed Mrs. Shiratori's things into a spare paper box and stored it under the desk. With the space cleared, he set a nearly two-inch-thick packet of introductory training materials by the keyboard. He had spent all weekend, between fruitless attempts to sleep, putting together a detailed guide to Mrs. Shiratori's job. It contained everything Miss Miyoshi would need to know, from a list of internal extensions, to how Seto took his coffee, to instructions on how to use the scheduling software.
At 7:55 Seto leaned against the desk, crossed his arms over his chest, and watched the hands of the analog clock over the elevator doors tick by at a snail's pace.
At 8:01 the elevator chimed, then opened.
Seto was prepared with a string of scolding remarks regarding their tardiness. Then his eyes fell upon the occupant and every word disappeared. It was as if the world came to a sudden, jarring halt.
Whether it was the bright blue eyes or the curtain of blue-white hair that enraptured him first, he couldn't tell. For a moment he wondered if one of those airbrushed models from the magazines had jumped off the page when he wasn't looking. She looked fit for the runway. A simple dress with a bodice striped black and white, with a thin black jacket that hugged her torso. She stepped off the elevator and her skirt moved in such a way that he caught a hint of red lining the inside. A red that matched the heels on her feet, the bag hanging from her shoulder, and the shade of her lips.
Seto swallowed. Tingles skittered up the back of his neck. Her eyes widened, as if in surprise, and her hands went to the cuffs of her jacket to pull the sleeves further down her wrists.
"Good morning." She sounded almost breathless.
"Good-" Seto's voice was thick, gravelly. He cleared his throat, pushed the pleasant sensations back, and started again. "Kisa Miyoshi?"
The woman smiled and the foyer felt dim by comparison. "That's me."
"You're late."
"S- ah…" Her brows came together as she looked up at the clock. "Only by a minute."
"A minute late is a minute of lost productivity. My employees are expected to be in their offices on time. I suggest you adjust your schedule to do the same."
She stared, then her back straightened and one hand balled into a fist around the strap of her purse. "You can't really expect all your employees to show up exactly on time all the time. What if something happens? An accident? A family emergency?"
"Then their first call should be to me." Seto let one eyebrow rise. "Is that what happened today?"
Her free hand landed on her hip. Seto's eyes were drawn to her waist for a brief, unintended, second.
"No," Miss Miyoshi said. "I just didn't expect traffic to be so bad. Shit, not even the bus drivers know how to drive around here, and does anyone know how to use a turn signal anymore?"
He hadn't meant to chuckle, but it worked out of him unbidden and he tried to hide it by clearing his throat again. "I suppose not."
That made her smile. Not as grandly as before, but no less bright.
Seto held out his hand. "Seto Kaiba."
She looked down at it, closed her eyes, and sighed.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
She shook her head and nestled her hand into his. It was smaller, warm. The tips of her fingers were rough, calloused as if she'd worked with her hands for years.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Kaiba," she said.
There was a sensation in his chest, like a warm swelling or a tugging. With it came a desire he had not let himself feel for nearly four years. He tried to put it out of his mind as he moved them to her workstation, behind it, where she sat in the chair and he stood next to her. He forced himself to concentrate on running through the contents of the manual with her, but when she turned to log in with her new password, he caught himself staring at her profile. The plump red of her lips. The iridescent shimmer of highlight on the apples of her cheeks. There was something else that worked into the back of his mind as he watched her. It was a nagging sensation as if there was something he'd forgotten to do.
He stood there, answering her questions, as his mind worked in the background. Had there been a meeting he'd forgotten about? With Mokuba's teachers perhaps? A detail in some project he'd neglected?
"Are you from Domino, Mr. Kaiba?" she asked.
It took Seto a second to readjust to the topic. "Yes, but I don't see how my residency status has anything to do with your job."
Miss Miyoshi flipped the manual closed with a shrug of her shoulder. "I was curious. I'll be working for you for a while, figured I'd get to know you."
"You figured wrong." Seto tapped a finger on the cover of the manual. "All you need to know is what's in here. By the time my secretary returns in December, you'll know more regarding the ins and outs of my company than any ordinary person. Which should go without saying, will remain confidential after your temporary employment ends."
She was staring at him with that same brow-creased look she'd given him when he'd chastised her for being late. There was an intensity there that sent his heart pounding a little harder.
"Is that a problem?" he asked.
Miss Miyoshi shook her head. "No. I was just thinking." There was a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I think I'm gonna like it here."
Seto's gaze flicked upward. She was going to be one of those.
"Can you handle working on your own for a while?" he asked.
"I think so. I'm a pretty quick learner."
"Good." Seto rounded the desk to his office door. "I have a teleconference with Hoffmann Enterprises at 3:30, make sure you call-"
"The construction company?"
He put his hand on the doorknob. "Yes, so-" He stopped, turned back to look at her. "How did you-?"
Miss Miyoshi had crossed her arms on the desk and leaned forward to look at him around her monitor. "I lived in Berlin for the last two years. Their offices are based there."
Seto kept his eyes on hers and not on the inviting swell of her breasts. "Really?"
"I worked at the coffee shop next door for a little while. Saw a lot of their guys. They were nice if a little flirty."
Seto's posture stiffened. "That so?"
"Construction guys usually are, no matter where you're from. A lot of catcalling and compliments." She waved a hand through the air. "No actual action."
"Regardless, you need to call the number listed for translator services and request a German translator be here at three. I need to go through the details of the conference with them before the call starts."
Her brows raised. "You're sure you want me to call someone?"
"Did I stutter?"
She closed her eyes as she sighed. "No, sir." She fixed him with a coy smile. "You're staring, you know."
Heat rushed into Seto's face. "Just do what I said."
He threw open the office door and went inside, closing it behind him a bit harder than he intended. On the other side, he leaned back against the door, one hand rubbing at his chest. His head fell back against the door none too gently. He needed to get a hold of himself. She was just one woman, not unlike all the others in his employment. She would be there for five months, then move on and he would forget about her.
Seto let his weight sink onto the door. That thought gave him a sinking feeling. He could not say why.
At three o'clock that afternoon, with Seto in the midst of preparing his questions for Mr. Hoffmann, the office door opened. He looked up, expecting to see a suited professional from the translator service, but was surprised to find Miss Miyoshi standing there instead. She had a notepad in one hand, a mechanical pencil tucked into its spiral binding.
"What are you doing?" Seto asked.
"You said you needed a translator."
He could feel his patience beginning to fray. "And where are they?"
Miss Miyoshi stepped up to his desk and stretched out her arms from her sides as if presenting herself. Seto's eyes wandered down the slim curve of her neck, to the gentle jut of her collarbone.
He snapped them back to her face. "You're joking."
"Here I thought you were a genius." She sighed, the actions dramatized so that her shoulders heaved with it.
"Excuse me?"
"Hello? I lived in Germany for two years." Miss Miyoshi dropped her notebook on the desk, where it landed with a snap. "I don't think you'll find anyone more qualified than me."
"Perhaps. Though I would rather the phones be manned for however long this meeting will take."
She scoffed. "Tough cookies. The machine'll handle them for a while."
Seto considered it. Having her do the work instead would save him a few hundred dollars in fees. While he was not a penny pincher, he could stand to be thrifty every so often. If this first meeting goes well, perhaps he could stand to hire her in a semi-permanent manner to help with communications until the deal with Hoffmann Enterprises is complete.
She was staring at him, waiting, hands on her hips, lips pursed in a delicious-looking pout. He tore his eyes away, unable to hold her gaze without the warm need tingling through his veins. He caught sight of her notebook. The design on the cover was tasteful, minimalistic. Music notes swirling within a twisting staff against a white background.
"Fine." He motioned to the chair next to her. "Sit."
Miss Miyoshi grinned, sat down, took up her notebook and pencil, and readied herself to take notes.
"It would be a partnership, from what I understand," he said. "Hoffmann Enterprises was hired to construct an expansion of an existing theme park just outside Berlin. Our communications have not been… fluent, but it's become obvious that this project has much to do with my field."
"Computer stuff."
"To put it bluntly. Assuming Hoffmann can have materials and construction handled, I would need to fly in my own technicians to install and upkeep the displays. I don't want outside hands on my equipment."
Miss Miyoshi scribbled, then let out a snort of laughter.
"Problem?"
"Nope. No problems here." She looked as if she was trying not to smile. "No strangers on your 'equipment', got it."
Seto chose to ignore the innuendo. "Considering the expenditure I'm looking at, I will need Hoffmann to pay for the cost of flying my employees to and from Berlin on the regular basis that would be needed."
"Would you compromise?"
"If necessary, but not under 50% of the cost. I'm running a business, not a charity. If Hoffmann wants to work with me, he'll need to help cover my overhead."
Miss Miyoshi scribbled another note. "Figured."
Seto's nails drummed a sharp rhythm on the desktop. "Is there a problem?"
"Not really." She tapped her pencil against the page. "Did some reading up on you during my lunch break. Just trying to figure out how you can be so shrewd with your money, but give almost as much to charity every year. There was, what, $500,000 to Share Our Strength last Christmas? Then another 500k to St. Jude the year before that."
"Touche."
Her desk phone rang. She left long enough to answer it, then the waiting light on Seto's phone began to blink.
She walked back in. "It's him."
She sat down and took up her notebook again. She seemed to steel herself with a deep breath before meeting Seto's gaze and nodding.
Seto reached over and hit the speaker on the phone. "Mr. Hoffmann?"
"Ah! Herr Kaiba, guten Morgen, oder vielleicht Nachmittag."(1) The deep bass of Vinzent Hoffmann's voice resonated through the line, his accent thick, but understandable. "Good to speak to you. Thank you for… agreeing to this meeting."
"My pleasure. I have someone here to help make communication easier if that's alright with you."
"Of course."
Seto raised a hand, motioning Miss Miyoshi to take over.
"Guten Morgen, Herr Hoffmann, Mein Name ist Kisa Miyoshi."(2) The words slid off her tongue, as smooth as if it had been her first language.
"Fräulein Miyoshi, schön, Sie kennenzulernen. Du sprechen sehr gut Deutsch."(3)
Pride seemed to encompass her being, pushing her shoulders back and turning her lips in a wide smile. "Vielen Dank! Ich habe zwei Jahre in Berlin gelebt. Ich freue mich, dass Sie meine Fähigkeiten mit der Sprache als zufriedenstellend empfinden."(4)
"Besonders gern. Sollen wir dann anfangen?"(5)
"Ja, bitte."(6) When she met his eyes, Seto could have sworn they were sparkling. "We're ready."
He had leaned back in his chair, her fluid voice flowing over him with its rich tones and effortless pronunciation. It took him a few seconds to realize that he hadn't responded.
He cleared his throat and straightened his posture. "Go ahead. You appear to have this sufficiently handled."
Miss Miyoshi turned back to the phone, her eyes moving between the device and the notes in her lap. "Herr Hoffmann, lassen Sie uns die Einzelheiten Ihrer Anfrage durchgehen."(7)
It was an enjoyable two-hour meeting, not completely because of the subject matter. Technology was Seto's forte, so he answered Hoffmann's question promptly and in detail. So much so that he had begun to wonder if all the technical jargon would become too much for his untrained translator.
If it had been, she had not shown it. She seemed to take it all in stride, adjusting back and forth between our language and German without missing a beat in her efforts to explain what he was referring to. Watching her was half the fun. Miss Miyoshi's hands moved as she spoke, gesturing in time with the cadence and emotion of her words. When she laughed, her voice sent pleasant tingles down Seto's spine. When the meeting started to wind down, he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.
"Den Tiergarten habe ich zuletzt im März besucht." Miss Miyoshi's gaze shifted to the ceiling, as if she were trying to remember a daydream. "War immer einer meiner Lieblingsorte."(8)
"Ah…" Hoffmann said, "das müssen Sie noch einmal sehen, wenn Sie mit Herrn Kaiba kommen. Ich kann mir vorstellen, dass er hierher kommen, um die Vertragsdetails auszuarbeiten."(9)
Seto's head came up from where it rested against his fist. He straightened from where he'd been leaning against the armrest as Miss Miyoshi turned her attention his way.
"Do you want to go to Berlin to work out the contract details?" she asked.
"If possible," Seto said, "I would like to have a look at the location as well, to get a feel for any spatial limitations. How many days does he need?"
She turned back to the phone. "Er würde. Außerdem möchte er sich den Standort anschauen, um ein Gefühl für räumliche Einschränkungen zu bekommen."(10)
"Das ist in Ordnung,"(11) Hoffmann said.
"Wie viele Tage?"(12)
The connection crackled with static as Hoffmann hummed. "Drei. Mehr, wenn er die Stadt sehen will."(13)
"Three, unless you wanna stay longer."
Seto wriggled his mouse, jarring his monitor out of rest mode, then opened his calendar. The rest of July was full, so he flipped over to August. "What does he think of August thirteenth through the fifteenth?"
"Herr Kaiba hat vom 13. Bis 15. August eine Eroffnung."(14) Miss Miyoshi said.
"Perfekt," said Hoffmann.
Seto highlighted the indicated days and, with a click, allocated them for international travel. "Miss Miyoshi, I'll have you take care of the finer details with Mr. Hoffmann's secretary. Mr. Hoffmann, it was a pleasure."
"Das Vergnügen war meins, junger Mann," Hoffmann said. "Ich freue mich auf Ihren Besuch. Auf Wiedersehen."(15)
"Auf Wiedersehen."(16) Miss Miyoshi reached over and hung up the call.
She slumped down in her seat with a heavy sigh. "Haven't had to talk that much in weeks."
Seto let her lounge for a moment, hands clasped loosely in his lap. All the tension and nerves she must have been holding onto during the call melted away. She had come into the meeting with confidence and bravado. Looking at her now, Seto couldn't tell if that had been just an act, or if this different side was just another facet of her personality.
"That was impressive," he said "It was only two years?"
"Oh, yeah." Miss Miyoshi pushed upright. "It was three years, really. Some friends and I took a trip to Europe after high school and just… stayed. Worked odd jobs here and there to pay the bills. We made it to Berlin and just didn't wanna leave."
"You bounced between jobs for two years?"
"Basically."
"I find that hard to believe."
"Believe what you want." She crossed her legs at the knees. "Now you're trying to get to know me. Bit hypocritical, isn't it?"
"I recommend you not read into things unnecessarily. An interest in one aspect of your skills does not equate to anything."
"If you say so." She stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt. "I'll start working out the details tomorrow."
"Book the hotel rooms too, and don't worry about the cost. I will not be staying in some Holiday Inn."
"Sure." She paused, then her head tilted to one side. "'Rooms'? As in, more than one?"
"You seem to have trouble understanding me. Perhaps you should get your ears checked."
She let out a sharp breath through her nose. "Surely you don't need more than one."
"Unless you have some plan to share my room, of which I suggest you change immediately."
She flushed. "What?"
A gentle throbbing started in Seto's temple. He rubbed at it. "It's not hard to understand." He motioned in her direction with his other hand. "It only makes sense to take you with me as my dedicated translator. Hiring someone else and filling them in on the deal would be too much of a hassle. You've proven yourself skilled enough for my needs."
"I'm not licensed."
"I trust in your capabilities."
"Thank you, but I can't. That week bumps up against some plans I made I haven't told you about yet. My sist-"
"Whatever plans you've made, cancel them."
She waved her notebook at him. "If you'd just listen-"
"Fine." Seto jerked open the top drawer of his desk and pulled out his checkbook. "I realize this is not what you were brought in for, but I'm willing to pay you for additional services."
"'Additional services'? You're kidding."
"No." Seto filled out a check and signed it with a flourish. He tore it off the pack and slid it across the desk to her. "This should be more than enough."
She stared at the slip of paper, chewing at the corner of her mouth. Apprehension grew in Seto's chest, cold and shivering. It was as if he was afraid he'd made a mistake, that she would turn and walk away, walk out of his life, and he would never see her again. Though why that seemed to bother him, when it hadn't for so many previous employees, Seto didn't know.
Miss Miyoshi picked up the check and turned it over to read the amount. Her head jerked up. "Seriously?"
"Is it not enough?"
"This is a lot."
"You'll come to find, Miss Miyoshi," he said, "that when there is something I want, there is no cost too high."
"I'm getting that." She looked back at the check, sighed, then slipped it into the back of her notebook. "Okay, fine, but I want off the week after. It's the least you could do for making me reschedule my plans."
Seto narrowed his eyes at her, gauging the likelihood of her willingness to bargain. She cocked a hip in response, one hand landing on it in a 'well?' sort of gesture.
"It's a deal." Seto held out a hand, open and expectant. "I'll take your notes and file them with the client folder. I expect you to have our reservations made before close of business Friday."
"No problem, boss." She flipped open her notebook and gripped the indicated pages.
She didn't rip them out. She stared at them, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.
Seto tried to ignore the need that simple action aroused in him. "Is there a problem?"
"Not really." She tore out the pages and placed them in his hand. "I'm just hoping you can read my handwriting."
"I'm sure I've read worse. Good night, Miss Miyoshi."
"Good night, Mr. Kaiba."
Seto's eyes followed her, falling to the gentle sway of her hips and the fluttering of her skirt, until the door shut. He pressed a hand to his eyes. She was not there to be looked at, not that it was even okay for him to look. She was his employee, nothing more.
His hand slipped from his face. Why did that thought leave a hollow in his chest?
Seto opened a drawer to retrieve an empty client folder. He created a cover sheet for it, set the dividers in place, then flipped through Miss Miyoshi's notes, checking for errors before adding them. She was thorough, no doubt, but more than once he found evidence of her having accidentally written a word in German. The eraser marks left behind by her hurried efforts to correct the mistake made Seto shake his head with a bemused smile.
He flipped over the last page. The notes written there had nothing to do with the meeting. They looked like hastily written appointments. Dates, times, and something she had labeled as 'sets'. Two stuck out to Seto, both for that coming weekend.
'Friday / 7pm / The Base Lounge / 2 sets'
'Saturday / 6pm / Blue Wind / 1 set'
Seto's first assumption was that these appointments were dates or at least plans to meet with a romantic partner. The thought sent a hot coil of jealousy burning in his abdomen.
Why should he care? It was none of his business what she did with her free time.
He made a copy of the page to put on her desk, with a note explaining that if she needs supplies, she should use those available in the supply closet.
It was after seven before Seto got home. All but the main areas of the estate were dark. He loosened his tie as she scaled the staircase, his mind busy going over the events of the day and the next steps. Then Miss Miyoshi slipped into his thoughts and he had to stop at the top of the stairs and shake his head as if trying to dislodge her.
He turned into the hallway to find Mokuba's bedroom door open a crack. The light was still on. He walked over as quietly as he could and peeked inside.
Mokuba's bedroom was how Seto imagined the average teenage boy's room looked. There were clothes and shoes strewn about the floor. The built-in shelves around the television were filled with tangles of wires, video game systems, and action figures. On other shelves around the room were piles of books, comics, and manga. Disks sat out of their cases on the floor and controllers had been left where they fell. Mokuba himself sat cross-legged on the unmade bed, a book open across his lap, an elbow on one knee, and his head in his hand. His head jerked up when Seto knocked on the door.
"Doing your homework?" Seto asked.
"Someone's gotta keep their promises around here."
Seto pushed open the door and leaned against the frame. "You can't stay mad at me.
"Watch me." Mokuba turned back to the book and turned the page, as that could prove anything.
Seto crossed his arms. "I'm not going to apologize."
Mokuba grunted and turned the page again.
"Your birthday is this Saturday," Seto said.
"Glad you remember."
"What do you want to do?"
Mokuba's eyes narrowed. "Really? You're not gonna flake on me again?"
"Not if I can help it."
Mokuba side-eyed him, examining him as if he could detect a possible lie. "Can we see a movie? Just the two of us?"
"If that's what you want."
"And pizza too. I don't want any of that fancy crap your cooks make."
"They're yours too, you know."
Mokuba shrugged. "They can't make pizza worth a damn."
"Fine. You pick the movie and let me know when it is so I plan-"
"Can we play too? Video games, like we used to." Mokuba looked down. His thumb flicked at the binding of his book.
It'd been a long time since he'd last sat down and played with his baby brother. Years. He couldn't remember when it had been, exactly, or even what they had played. Seto's chest tightened, the guilt tearing at his insides even as he tried to maintain his stoic exterior.
He let his breath out slowly, trying to ease the guilt. "Sure."
Mokuba smiled then, small and guarded, as if he didn't believe him.
Seto couldn't blame him for it. He didn't believe it either.
Translations:
(1) "Mr. Kaiba, good morning, or maybe afternoon."
(2) "Good Morning, Mr. Hoffmann. My name is Kisa Miyoshi."
(3) "Miss Miyoshi, nice to meet you. You speak German very well."
(4) "Many thanks! I lived in Berlin for two years. I am pleased that you find my skills with the language to be satisfactory."
(5) "Very much so. Shall we start then?"
(6) "Yes, please."
(7) "Mr. Hoffmann, let's go through the details of your request."
(8) "I lasted visited the Tiergarten in March." Miss Miyoshi's gaze shifted to the ceiling, as if she were trying to remember a daydream. "Has always been one of my favorite places."
(9) "Ah…" Hoffmann said, "you'll have to see it again when you come with Mr. Kaiba. I can imagine that he will want to come here to work out the contract details."
(10) "He would. He would also like to look at the location to get a feel for spatial restrictions."
(11) "That's fine."
(12) "How many days?"
(13) "Three. More if he wants to see the city."
(14) "Mr. Kaiba has an opening from August 13th to 15th."
(15) "The pleasure was mine, young man. I am looking forward to your visit. Goodbye."
(16) "Goodbye."