Chapter Three

That week would prove to be the busiest Seto's had since his initial takeover. Not only did he have a portfolio to assemble with all his past projects to show to Vinzent Hoffmann, the gears of his company still had to run. Department meetings needed to be attended, interviews needed to be done, budgets needed adjusting, marketing materials needed approval, projects needed to be checked up on, and clients needed to be met with. It went on and on like that for four days straight. It was a type of busy he appreciated, the kind that kept his mind off Mokuba's coming birthday and off new secretary whenever she wasn't in his presence.

It was the latter, he found, that he needed the most.

She had needed guidance for the first couple of days, but by Wednesday she was working independently as if she had been working for him for years. The first day that passed without her calling him for assistance, Seto found himself staring at his phone more than once, waiting on pins and needles. He turned back to his work, angry with himself. If she was working at her desk there was no need to see her. He should've been glad that he didn't need to babysit her.

By Thursday he'd started calling her for coffee and refreshments more often.

By Friday he realized he was doing it not because he needed them, but because he'd develop a tugging in his chest that only subsided when his eyes met hers. By the close of business that evening, he swore that would stop.

There was a knock on his door at 5 o'clock. "Mr. Kaiba?"

Seto took a second to compose himself. "Come in."

Miss Miyoshi slid into the office, for how else could he describe the way her body slipped past the door. She'd worn pants that day, form-fitting tan ones with a high waist. Tucked into it was a light blue blouse patterned with flowers and, as seemed to be her style despite the heat, billowing sleeves. Her hair was in a loose bun.

Seto tore his eyes away. He couldn't seem to keep them where they belonged. The way her throat worked as she spoke or swallowed was enough to make a man's mouth go dry.

"I'll be heading out," she said.

"Right."

The door clicked and he looked up to find her still standing there, leaning with her back against the door, her arms tucked behind her back.

"What are you doing?" he asked

"I was wondering if you were doing anything this weekend."

"I'm busy."

"Oh, come on." She pushed off the door and walked up to his desk. "I need someone to show me around the city. I was hoping you'd-"

"Get someone else to do it."

"I don't know anyone else."

Seto set his jaw, pushing the excited shiver in his chest down. "If you're looking for me to take you out so you can try and seduce me, I'll be forced to call the agency and have you replaced."

Her confident smile fell. "What?" Her face flushed red. "Oh my God. Is that how I've been-? No. I'm just- I just-" She dropped her face into her hands and fell into the chair in front of his desk. "I'm messing this all up is what I'm doing." She scowled. "Don't smile at me like that."

Seto had leaned back to watch her struggle, fingers steepled and legs crossed at the knee. He forced his face back into passivity. "I don't smile."

She smirked. "You were."

Seto swiveled his chair away. "Whatever your intentions, I'm afraid my first answer still stands. I am otherwise engaged this weekend."

"Engaged?"

"I have plans. My brother will be taking up most of my time on Saturday and I have work I need to do on Sunday."

"You work on the weekends?"

"Yes."

"Don't you get, you know, burnt out?"

"No."

She went silent. Just as Seto was about to reach back to his keyboard to continue working, her next words stopped him dead.

"You have a brother."

It wasn't a question. She said it as if it were information she knew.

Seto swiveled back to face her, one brow raised. "Yes."

"How old is he?"

"Seventeen tomorrow."

"So he's, what, seven years younger than you?"

"Five."

"Twenty-one? I figured you were older."

Seto exhaled sharply through his nose. "Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

"I thought so, considering you're my age." Her eyes lowered, looking from his face, to his chest, to his shoulders, even to his hands resting on the desk.

Seto had caught many women appraising him in the past as if they could gauge the size of his wallet or his penis if they looked hard enough. It always made him feel more like a piece of meat than a person, as if all anyone cared about was his net worth.

Miss Miyoshi looked at him with a softness he was unused to. If felt… good. A warmth spread through his chest, its tendrils buzzing through his veins. For one brief, insane, second, he let himself think that going out with her might not have been so bad.

Her laughter jarred him back to the present. "You thought I was older?"

"Perhaps, but could you blame me?" Seto motioned to her. "There aren't many our age with as much fashion sense."

She looked down, cheeks stained pink, and ran a finger beneath the cuff of her sleeve. "Here I was thinking you didn't know how to talk to a girl."

"I don't make a habit of it."

"Of what? Talking to girls, or talking nice to girls?"

"I'll let you come to your own conclusions."

She smiled, looked at her hands, then wiped them on her knees. "I imagine he looks a lot like you, your little brother, I mean."

"Not especially." Seto pulled the photograph from its place by the monitor and handed it to her. "This was taken about nine years ago."

"You don't keep anything more recent?"

"I do, just not here."

Her eyes softened as she looked at the photo. There was a gentle smile on her lips. Gentle, and sad. She brushed a thumb across the glass. "A couple'a handsome boys if you ask me."

Seto's heart did a flip. "I didn't, but your compliment is noted."

"Taken at school?"

"No."

She looked as if expecting more, but he didn't give any. He'd let his tongue loose enough for one day.

"What're you doing for his birthday?" she asked.

"What?"

"You do celebrate it, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

She laughed. "Relax, I was just asking. So when's your-"

Her phone chimed. She jumped, nearly dropping the photograph. Seto had to bite the inside of his lip to keep back the laughter that bubbled up.

She pulled out her phone, looked at the screen, and her shoulders sagged. "Sorry." She handed the photo back. "I have to go."

Seto's shoulders dropped slightly. "You have an engagement of your own, I suppose."

"You could say that." She stood as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. "I really liked our talk. Maybe we can do this again sometime?"

"I'll have to check my schedule."

She laughed at that and the weight lifted a little. "Good night, Mr. Kaiba."

"Good night, Miss Miyoshi."

Her gaze lingered on him as she walked out. To Seto, there seemed to be sadness there, an unspoken regret, that left him feeling hollow. Once the door was shut Seto put the photo back into place. It wasn't any of his business if she was dating or not. She was young and beautiful. She deserved to find someone who could appreciate all of her without conditions, without baggage. He had no right to her.

Seto let out a long, slow breath. If that was the case, then why did he have the urge to go after her?

Mokuba's movie was at two thirty-five that Saturday afternoon. They sat in what Mokuba referred to as 'prime seating'. Not too high up, now too low, and right in the middle where the screen was at the perfect height. Seto hadn't been able to fully buy out the showroom, but he made sure that every seat surrounding theirs was empty. He was already forcing himself to stand the stench of stale sweat and popcorn, he wasn't about to rub elbows with strangers once the room went dark.

The lights had dimmed to a low orange glow while the previews played. Seto scrolled through emails on his phone, trying to tune out the noise. There was little he could do besides that and Mokuba had been adamant that bringing a laptop into the theater would only piss people off. He was right, but Seto didn't have to like it.

Once the previews finished, the room darkened the rest of the way.

Mokuba hissed at Seto, his eyes sharp in the glow of the screen. "It's starting."

With a click of his tongue, Seto crossed one leg over the other, flipped his phone into silent mode, and nestled it into the crook of his knee.

Mokuba had wanted to see one of the latest Marvel Movies, because of course he had. The superhero genre had been especially popular since the start of their renaissance in 2010. Seto couldn't stand them. The optimism, the heroics, such things were unrealistic. No one was that selfless. No one would willingly risk life and limb for another person.

Seto's eyes flicked down to his phone. He pulled it from its hiding spot and refreshed his email. With there being no changes, Seto tucked it back into place and leaned his elbow against the armrest. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

He could've been in his office preparing inquiries for future clients, preparing invoices, brainstorming improvements to his systems, and, most importantly, working on that portfolio.

What a pain.

Mokuba elbowed his arm. Seto looked over to glare, only to find his little brother's look reflecting his own. Seto rested his head on his fist, his eyes on the screen as Mokuba wanted. Colors and light and action flashed across it, but they barely registered.

When Seto looked at his phone again, an hour had passed.

Miss Miyoshi would be getting ready for her date about now. He would be a smooth-talker, no doubt, someone who had taken advantage of her unfamiliarity with the city to get her alone. He'd be someone who saw her long legs and swaying hips and thought only of-

Seto's teeth grit against the jealousy coiling in his belly. What did he care if she got herself in a bad situation with a stranger? It was none of his business. The best he'd do is leave her high and dry in the morning. The worst…

Seto felt sick.

His phone buzzed. He saw who was calling and placed them on hold. Mokuba grabbed his sleeve as he moved to rise.

"I have to take this," Seto whispered.

Mokuba let him go, but didn't look happy about it. He dropped his half-eaten popcorn between his feet and slouched down, arms crossed.

"I'll be right back," Seto added.

Mokuba shrugged, but said nothing.

The lights in the hallway were painfully bright after spending so long in the dark. Seto leaned against the wall opposite the showroom doors and answered the call.

"Kaiba."

"Afternoon," Mrs. Shiratori's voice answered, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Seto eyed a family as they passed. "What can I do for you?"

She laughed and Seto could feel the tension slipping from his shoulders. "You don't have to be so formal, this isn't a business call. I just wanted to make sure the office wasn't on fire."

A chuckle bubbled in Seto's chest, but he forced it down. "I'm sorry to disappoint you. I contacted a temp agency Monday and they sent someone to hold your position."

"And they haven't walked out yet? Surprising."

"I don't chase everyone away."

"Not on purpose, maybe. I'm sorry I couldn't train someone up in time. How are they doing?"

"She's-" Several descriptions flashed through Seto's mind, none of them welcome. "She'll do."

"She's a looker, huh?"

"I didn't say that."

"No, but you don't usually hesitate. Careful, you're going to make me jealous."

Seto crossed an arm over his chest, his hand resting in the crook of his elbow. "How are you feeling?"

The line filled with static as Mrs. Shiratori sighed. "Good. My blood pressure's down. They sent me home yesterday, but I'm on bed rest for the foreseeable future. It's driving me crazy. I love Sota to death, but he doesn't know how to load a dishwasher worth a damn. Do yourself a favor and brush up on your housekeeping skills before moving in with a lady."

Miss Miyoshi crossed his mind, but Seto pushed the thoughts away before they could settle. "Mrs. Shiratori, that's not-"

"I know, it's not appropriate, but I've known you since you were twelve. I think I've earned the right to some motherly worry."

"If you say so."

"Tell Mokuba I said 'Happy Birthday'. Once I'm back on my feet I'll stop by the office and drop off his present. Might not be until October."

"I'll tell Miss Miyoshi to expect you."

"So that's her name."

Seto took on a warning tone. "Mrs. Shiratori."

She laughed. "Oh, come on, give me something. What's she like? Is she pretty?"

Seto nearly told her off again. He'd opened his mouth to do so, but closed it instead. He breathed a sigh, letting his arms uncross. "She is."

"You see, was that so hard?"

"I would rather not talk about my staff that way, Mrs. Shiratori. It's not appropriate."

"She won't be your employee forever. Maybe you should get to know her. Who knows, you might like her."

"Is that all, or do you plan to examine my love life further?"

"No, I think I've ribbed you enough for one day. Have a good day, Mr. Kaiba."

The line went quiet. Seto pulled the phone from his ear and stared down at it. On the lock screen was a picture Mokuba had taken and put on it two years ago. His grin had been wide and happy, with two of his fingers forming a peace sign in the corner. He let his head fall back against the wall, conscious of the crowd piling out of a screening room down the hall. He kept his breath deep and slow, waiting for the sudden heaviness that had come over him to pass.

The screening room doors slammed open. Seto's head jerked up.

Mokuba stood there, hands clenched into fists. He pushed them into his pockets. "I wanna go home."

Seto checked the time. "You still have half an hour."

"So? If you don't care, why should I?"

Seto stiffened. "Mokuba-"

His brother walked away and all Seto could do was follow, unwilling to cause a scene with dozens of eyes watching them. He waited until in the privacy of his car before twisting in his seat to confront him.

"What was that about?" Seto asked.

Mokuba buckled his seatbelt, his lips tight and face red. "Like you care."

"You wanted a movie, I took you to a movie."

"You bought out almost every seat and sat on your phone the whole time. Great. Awesome. You deserve a medal."

"Don't take that attitude with me."

"You walked out and left me sitting there like a loser!"

"You know that's not what I-"

"I don't care what you intended." Mokuba slid down, propping a foot on the glove compartment. "Apparently everything is more important than me."

Seto's anger evaporated. "Mokuba."

His little brother crossed his arm and turned to look out the window. "I don't wanna talk to you anymore."

This is your fault.

Seto settled back against his seat.

You did this to yourself.

He pinched his eyes shut and focused on breathing. Pain ached in his chest. He resisted the need to rub at it and started the car. He looked at Mokuba only once during that long, quiet drive home, though he wished he hadn't. Mokuba had leaned his head against the window, black hairs sticking to the glass and street lights shining in his eyes. The image left a dark hole in his chest, empty and sad.

Seto barely put the car into park outside the estate before Mokuba jerked off his seatbelt and flung the door open. It slammed behind him. He ran up the steps and through the front door without looking back.

Pain throbbed in Seto's head. He rested an elbow against the door and put his head in his hand. He wanted pain medicine, he wanted to sleep, but he needed to work. He told his body to move, but his limbs were heavy, tired. He couldn't bear to go into that house, not where the nightmares and memories waited to take advantage of his current state.

Seto looked at the dashboard clock, stared at it.

Minutes ticked by. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. He took a breath, held it, then pulled out his phone and opened the GPS.