Chapter Five

Sweat and citrusy musk. Skin smooth as satin. His hands slid down her arms, caressing down to her hands while his lips nibbled a delicious trail across the back of her neck.

She leaned into him, head lolling back against his shoulder. "Seto."

He wanted to hear it, wanted to make her sing it. His hands slipped across her stomach, one going north, the other south. She reached an arm back, hooked her hand on the back of his head. Her fingers tangled in his hair pulled him forward against her neck.

"Seto."

Fingers tugged, pulled, tightened. His head jerked back, a cry of pain tearing from his throat. His arms were empty. His sheets were balled in his fists.

Breath, hot and stinking next to his face. The stench of booze and cigarettes.

"Keep it down, boy."

"Damn it."

Seto sat on his bed, knees pulled up to his chest, head resting against them. The fantasies would have been bad enough. He was not immune to such things, but they were at least manageable. A cold shower ebbed any immediate urges and work took over any lingering thoughts or mental images. Combining his urges with his most horrible nightmares, however…

He could at least sleep through his fantasies.

Seto heaved a sigh and leaned back against the headboard, his head back and eyes staring up at the canopy. He'd never dreaded Mondays before.

Until now.

Breakfast that morning started silent, just as it had the day before. Mokuba hadn't spoken to him since Saturday, having spent all of Sunday in his bedroom. Seto hadn't bothered him, hadn't wanted to initiate whatever might still be boiling under the teen's skin.

Seto looked up from that morning's paper to reach for his coffee mug. Mokuba had his phone in his hand and was staring at him curiously.

"What?" Seto asked.

Mokuba said nothing, but put his phone on the table. He turned it around so it faced Seto, and slid it over. Seto picked it up. Open on Mokuba's cell phone browser was the website of Domino's most popular gossip magazine. The headline read:

'Tech Millionaire, Seto Kaiba, Assaults Renown Talent Scout of Bayside Records in Defence of Mysterious Woman.'

A groan worked out of Seto's throat before he could stop it. He scrolled through the article, finding picture after mortifying picture.

There were shots of the actual assault, Miss Miyoshi behind him, grabbing onto his shirt as if to pull him back. There were shots of her yelling at him in the street, a finger in his face while he pressed a bloody fist to his mouth. Last, and most damning of all, had been a shot of the two of them walking into her building. There were no images of him leaving.

Seto put down the phone and slid it back. "Vultures, the lot of them."

"What the hell happened?"

"Nothing." He adjusted the newspaper. "I'll deal with it."

"Who is she?"

"No one."

"Seto." The earnestness in Mokuba's tone brought Seto's eyes back to him. "You haven't punched anyone since we got adopted. What gives?"

Seto considered not telling him. It wasn't anything his little brother needed to worry about. There was a worried crease to Mokuba's brow. He folded his arms on the table, intent on only him.

Seto caved. "Her name is Kisa Miyoshi. She's acting as my temporary secretary until Mrs. Shiratori comes back."

Mokuba blinked. "Mrs. Tomoko's out? She okay? Is her baby okay? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she's fine. She called me Saturday afternoon to check in."

"Saturday?" Mokuba leaned away from the table. "That call you got-"

"Had been from her, yes."

Mokuba tucked his hands in his lap, head drooping down. "Sorry."

Seto rubbed at his temple. "Don't. It's over and it's best we both forget about it."

"Right." Though Mokuba didn't look convinced. "So, Miss Kisa, right? So she's not… you know."

"Know what?"

"She's not your girlfriend?"

"No."

"But you went to her house. You guys got something going on?"

"No, and I don't see how it matters."

"Aw, come on." Mokuba grinned. "She's pretty hot."

Seto wanted nothing more than to escape. Mokuba talked his ear off about the article all through the rest of breakfast and through the drive to school. Though, admittedly, Seto found the excited chatter preferable to the nothing he'd gotten from his little brother all weekend.

"I haven't seen you raise your dukes in years!" Mokuba raised his fists and pretended to fight an invisible opponent. "That right was sick!" He punched the air above the glove compartment. "Think you can show me how to do that? You know, just in case?"

The corner of Seto's lips twitched as he came to a stop outside the school. "I'll think about it."

Mokuba unbuckled himself and grabbed his bag to get out, but he froze with his hand on the door handle. "Hey, uh, thanks. You know, for the cleats."

Seto reached over and squeezed Mokuba's shoulder. "You're welcome."

Mokuba threw him one last smile before getting out. Seto put the car back in drive and started towards the one place he'd never dreaded going to.

Work.

With any luck, she would be away from her desk and he would have at least a few moments to reline himself to the office atmosphere.

He should have taken Mrs. Shiratori's early absence as a sign that his luck was about to run out.

Looking at her sitting there behind her desk, Seto found it hard to believe this had been the same tight jeaned woman he'd seen Saturday night. Miss Miyoshi had on a brown plaid pencil skirt and a white blouse. The stockings, the pumps, the understated jewelry, they didn't match the persona she had put on that night.

She smiled. "Morning."

As much as Seto tried not to, his mind went to their kiss. Heat curled around his ears. A tight knot coiled in his core. For all the years he'd spent suppressing his urges, he wished he'd known they'd be so easily unearthed. It only worsened when his mind went, involuntarily, to his dream.

She stood as he walked by, holding out a mug of coffee for him to take. "Nothing special on the schedule this morning, boss."

He hated the way she said that, thick with humor. "Good."

He took the coffee from her, but kept walking, past her desk and into his office. He swung the door closed behind him. When the door didn't click shut, he turned back. Miss Miyoshi had hurried around her desk to stop the door from closing.

Concern was evident in her eyes. "Can we talk?"

"About what?"

"You know." She waved a hand, indicating Seto, then herself.

"No."

"You can't just pretend it didn't happen."

Seto sat in his chair. "Focusing on the matter would cause undue strain on my work."

"On your-" She stepped into the office and slammed the door behind her. "You kissed me."
"The reminder is unnecessary."

"So, what, you're just gonna go on like it didn't happen?"

"That was the idea, or did you misunderstand what I said."

"No, I understood just fine." Her hands clenched into fists, then relaxed. "Look, it doesn't matter if you want to forget it or not. We need to talk."

"Fine." Seto folded his hands together on the desk. "What happened that night was a mistake and will not happen again. It was due to a lapse in my judgment and I do not blame you for it. However, such activities, if seen by the public, could be detrimental to my reputation. That is not something I am willing to risk."

She seemed to deflate. "You're talking about those pictures."

"I am. I imagine that I will start receiving calls requesting my statement on the matter shortly. I expect you to tell the callers that I will not be answering questions and any libel statements made against my character will be subject to legal action."

"Well, sure, but that's not what I-"

"In addition, any expectations you have as to how that night will change our professional relationship need to be altered immediately. I will not be attending any more of your shows and I will not be visiting your residence under any circumstances save for those deemed most essential."

She pressed her lips together, so tight he was sure the color would have drained from them had they not been painted her usual red. "Yet you showed up that night. I didn't take you for someone who spends his free time in downtown bars."

Seto's hands clenched together. He set his jaw. Him going had been a rare impulse, an easy choice in his mentally weakened state. He'd wanted to be anywhere but home, but he couldn't tell her that. How would that make him look?

"I wouldn't have known about it if you had not left your performance schedule on the back of your notes."

"Don't shift the blame on me. I didn't make you go." Her hands landed on her hips. "So what? I forgot to erase them before I handed them over. Maybe next time you shouldn't memorize them."

Heat crept past Seto's collar. "I did not memorize them."

"Sure." She didn't sound convinced. "What'd you think?"

He moved to turn on his monitor, certain the conversation was close to over. "About what?"

"About my singing."

His hand froze in midair. An echo of memory played through his mind. The smells, the buzz, and, over it all, her voice rising clear through the din. He could almost put himself there. In his chest was the swelling need to be there again.

"That good, huh?" she asked.

He put down his hand. "You were impressive, I'll give you that."

She let the silence hang for a few seconds, then spoke in a flat voice. "No, please, don't stop. I live for the praise."

A laugh left Seto so fast he had no time to stop it. He raised a fist to his face and pressed it against his betraying mouth.

Her smile was small, apprehensive. "Sorry if I ruined your bad mood."

His expression, once again, went passive. "You have the uncanny ability to force humor into any situation."

She shrugged. "It's a gift. I'm just glad I could make you laugh."

"I didn't laugh."

"Yes, you did."

Any comeback he may have had was drowned out by the sudden ringing of her desk phone. She looked back at the door, an almost disappointed air coming over her frame.

When she turned back her smile was crooked. "Guess I better get back to work."

"That would be best," he said. "Just remember-"

"Yeah, yeah." She headed to the door. " 'Mr. Kaiba has no comment', right? Oh!" She'd opened the door, the sound of the phone so loud she had to speak over it. "I saw your little brother has a game on Saturday. Regional finals, right? He must be good to get his team that far."

"That's what I hear."

She blinked, her brows furrowing together. "You've never seen him play?"

"I'm afraid his games fall on some of my busiest weekends."

She stared at him, eyes intent with their curiosity. The phone continued to ring, but she didn't move. "You're going to watch the finals, right? They're pretty important."

He cut his eyes at her. "I believe it is not your job to dictate how I spend my weekends, Miss Miyoshi."

"No." Her tone was thoughtful. "I guess not."

She left without another word, dimming the sound of the ringing phone when she closed the door. Seto stared at it, the irritation he'd felt initially at their conversation returning full force. He flicked on his monitor, bound and determined to forget the whole thing ever happened.

"No, sir. Mr. Kaiba will not be giving comment."

"Mr. Kaiba is not at liberty to give a statement at this time."

Every time Seto heard her phone ring his head would perk up, interested in what new excuse she had come up with to get the reporters off his case.

"Mr. Kaiba is not interested in scheduling any interviews with the press right now."

"No, I'm afraid Mr. Kaiba's schedule is full until September."

"You'll have to find someone else to write trash about."

That last one made him chuckle. Though his levity didn't last long. In the afternoon he received a call from the president of Bayside Records, demanding Seto's public apology. Seto tried to hold his temper as he explained the situation, as well as expressed his desire for a peaceful resolution.

Then the man called Miss Miyoshi a 'dime-a-dozen, talentless bitch'.

"Mr. Walton, I'm afraid you have been misinformed, so let me clear this up for you. It was your so-called 'upstanding' scout who assaulted my secretary. She was merely upholding her right to protect her person. You should feel lucky that I have yet to press charges against him and your company for the misconduct enacted on her. I'm sure you have taken the proper actions to reprimand your employee and take steps to prevent such things from happening again. If not… well, you'll be hearing from my lawyers shortly."

There was an explosion of expletives on the other end, but Seto had no more to say.

He hung up.

A moment later Miss Miyoshi poked her head inside. "Please don't sue anyone on my behalf."

"If that's what you want. Though if you change your mind, let me know. I can't stand anyone who would use their authority to take advantage of people."

She smiled, the affection in it sending warmth through his veins.

The next day passed similarly, though it appeared as if the callers were losing steam. A couple other articles popped up, but they didn't have anything new, so they didn't make as much of a splash. That was, until Wednesday morning when Miss Miyoshi's phone rang.

"Kaiba Corporation, Executive Office, how can I help you?"

Seto looked up from sifting through his mail. There was the usual fair, though mixed in had been written requests from various tabloids requesting comment. He fed them to the shredder under his desk.

"It is." He heard her say.

There was silence for a long time. Thinking it had just been another tabloid she'd hung up on, Seto went back to the envelopes in his hands.

"What?!"

His head whipped up, heart pounding. He was up and out of his chair, striding to the door before he could think about it. He opened it to find Miss Miyoshi's face flushed. She had her chair pushed back, one hand to her forehead and the other holding the phone to her ear.

She pulled it away when he walked in. "Bayside talked to the media. They know I'm the girl in the pictures."

Seto walked over, plucked the phone out of her hand, and hung it up. "Any more calls come through from these people, you give them my attorney's number and have them contact me through them."

"You don't have to do that. It's me they wanted to talk to."

"Perhaps, but you are under my supervision. I will not have anyone harass you while you're in my building."

"And what if they come up to me on the street?" She gave him a cheeky smile. "You can't be with me all the time."

Seto pulled one of his business cards out of the holder on her desk. He took a pen from her cup, laid the two together on her desk, and slid them towards her. "Then write down my attorney's number and keep it with you. Anyone tries to bother you, you give it to them and say nothing else."

She shifted in her seat. "That's kind of you, boss, but I know how expensive lawyers are. I can't let you pay for my stuff."

"Do you have an attorney?"

Her face flushed. "No."

"Then take down the number." Seto tapped the desk. "I will not have my mistakes affect your personal life."

A softness came over her face. She shook her head, chuckling. "There you go again."

"Excuse me?"

"You said something like that Saturday. You remember, about being able to make my ex-boyfriend leave me alone?"

Seto crossed his arms. That was the last thing he wanted to come up today. "I remember. If you're trying to insinuate this has anything to do with-"

"Relax, boss, I'm not. Not on purpose, anyway. I was just wondering if this was something you do all the time. You know, stick your neck out for your people and all that."

"It's not something I make a habit of."

"Like going out to bars?"

Tension throbbed in Seto's temple. "Miss Miyoshi-"

She laughed. "Sorry, I couldn't help it."

She was looking at him as if she could look into him, at the man he kept hidden beneath the armor. The man he'd made the mistake of letting through the cracks that night.

The phone rang again. She looked at it as if she wanted to smash it against a wall.

He felt the corner of his mouth curl against his will. "Back to work."

She sighed and pulled her Rolodex towards her. "Yeah, yeah." She picked up the phone. "Kaiba Corporation, Executive Office, how can I help you?"

After the debacle that had been Wednesday, Seto began escorting Miss Miyoshi in and out of the building's back entrance, where his security waited to take her to her car.

Only, she didn't have one.

"What do you mean you don't have a car?" He asked.

"I've been out of the country, remember? I've been using the bus until all this." She'd waved a hand out the door, indicating the situation in general.

That, he decided, was unacceptable. It was his fault the press was on her, so he would be the one to keep her safe.

That first drive with her in his passenger seat was awkward enough. He'd been determined not to be left alone with her in any personal setting, but there they were, once again, side by side. He kept his jaw tight and his hands clenched on the wheel, unwilling to give more than the cursory response to any comments or questions she made.

Thursday was not as strained. The crowds died down by half as the press struggled to publish more. The first day of Seto driving her home had caused a small spike of controversy, which didn't hold once one article mentioned he was probably doing it as a safety precaution to her.

Friday, he decided, would be the last day he'd act as her chauffeur. Though with one very important caveat.

"If you need money for a car," he said, "I can forward your next paycheck."

"I didn't say I didn't have wheels, boss. They're just overseas." She leaned against her seatbelt, examining and prodding the LED screen on the center console. "Fancy. Is this a tesla?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you were too tense the last couple days for me to ask."

Seto glanced at her grinning face.

The car was supple black leather and chrome, all clean lines with a lack of unsightly knobs and buttons. It still smelled new inside despite having had it for close to a year. She didn't fit with the interior. It was too cold for her bright disposition.

"I don't think you could afford it." A smirk turned the corner of his mouth.

"I'd have to sell my firstborn to afford one of these."

Downtown traffic was packed during rush hour. Horns blared, arms waved out windows, the sidewalks were full of pedestrians, some of who braved the empty crosswalks despite the light being green. The air was thick with smog and the stench of burning gasoline.

Seto rolled up his window. "How long before you move into your new place?"

"What? Don't like the downtown atmosphere?"

"Not especially."

"Oh, by the way, I nearly forgot to mention," she said, "there was a client who was interested in a consultation for one of their properties tomorrow."

Seto breaked at the stoplight a bit too hard, sending both of them against their seatbelts. He twisted to face her. "You just now thought to tell me this?"

"Yeah, I know. I'm not usually so forgetful." She stuck her tongue out at him.

Seto's heart stuttered at how unabashedly cute the gesture was. He turned his eyes away, but the image stayed with him. "So what is this consultation about?"

"Looks like there have been some communication issues between their systems. They had a new operating system installed not long ago, but it's not communicating with the old one. They can't transfer any data."

The light turned green and he eased into the intersection. Seto's fingers drummed on the steering wheel as he turned onto her street. It sounded like a good opportunity to test out the working OSs compatibility features.

"What time and where?"

"Nine am. I'll text you the address."

Miss Miyoshi pulled out her phone as he parallel parked in an open spot in front of her building. A moment later his phone buzzed in his pocket. She grabbed her purse from the floorboard and opened the door.

"See you later, boss."

Seto watched her until she was safely inside the building, a nagging thought tickling the back of his mind.

'See you later?' Not, 'goodnight?'

Mokuba left the house early the next day, picked up in a minivan by one of his friends' parents to go to the last game before school started. Seto watched him go from his office. Mokuba climbed in through the sliding door to squeeze in with the other boys.

By eight-thirty Seto packed his laptop and a flash drive loaded with his company's latest operating system into his briefcase and headed out for what he expected to be a rudimentary on-site consultation. It wasn't until he pulled up the location in his vehicle's GPS that he thought something was off about the appointment.

Since when did Mokuba's school have the money to afford one of his systems?

He shook the suspicion out of his mind. It was very well that they may have hoped to receive a discount for his services since his brother was a student. Or perhaps they were looking to take advantage of the goodwill he had shown them up to that point. Either was possible, but he was not one to speculate until he had evidence.

He pulled into a line of other cars waiting in the parking lot, only to see Miss Miyoshi sitting on the school steps, her legs stretched out before her. She was dressed the most casual he had ever seen. In no more than a faded pair of jeans, a tank top with a thin blue plaid overshirt, and a pair of sneakers. Her hair was back in a neat, simple tail. There was a band logo printed on the shirt, but he didn't know the name. She spotted him and stood up to walk over.

Seto opened the car door and got out, but made no move to approach. He leaned one arm against the roof, his other hand holding the door open. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure you don't miss your brother's game."

His fingers tightened on the door. "You tricked me."

"Had to make it sound convincing. Now come on, the game's about to start."

"You can't just insert yourself into my personal life, Miss Miyoshi."

She put her hands on her hips. "Finals are important. You should at least be here to cheer his team on, even if you don't go to any other games."

His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together. "You are not only out of line, but wasting my precious time. Have a good day." He flopped back into the driver's seat.

Before he could close the door, she grabbed the opposite handle.

He growled between his teeth. "Let go."

"No."

"Miss Miyoshi, must I remind you-"

"How do you think this makes him feel, huh?" Her voice rose, not quite yelling, but too close for his liking. "He's out there doing something he loves and you don't even take the time to see him play."

"I don't see how our relationship is any of your business. Now let go." He tugged hard, ripping the handle out of her hand and slamming the door.

He expected her to back off. Seething, perhaps, but having gotten the point.

She knocked on his window. Seto closed his eyes and prayed for patience, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. He should have just left, but when he opened his eyes and looked at her, the disappointment plain in her eyes wrenched at his heart.

He rolled the window down a crack. "What?"

"Don't do this," she said. "I know what it's like when the most important person in your life leaves you hanging. Don't do that to him."

He tore his eyes away, stared off toward the field where figures could be seen running or waving their arms. Parents in lawn chairs outside the fence or on the bleachers in the distance. Small children running to and fro, watching their siblings play, probably dreaming of taking the field too someday. He had nothing to add to the scene. If anything, him being there would only take attention off where it belonged.

"He wouldn't want me there," he said.

Her head cocked to the side. "Why do you say that?"

He let his hands slip from the steering wheel. His head rested against the seat. He closed his eyes again, tried to focus on his breathing. The twisting guilt made it tight and hard to breathe. There was a click as the door opened, but he didn't move. A hand rested on his shoulder.

"Hey," she said.

His heart was unprepared for how close she was. She was leaning into the driver's side. Her face was close, far too close. Those lips were unpainted, but still red as if she'd been biting them. It would have been too easy to lean over, capture those lips as he'd captured them before.

"I'll go with you," she said.

He scoffed. "And have more pictures plastered over the internet tomorrow? I would rather not."

"You obviously won't go alone." She shrugged a shoulder. "Think of it as a date if that makes it easier."

"Miss Miyoshi-"

"Yeah, yeah, but it's the weekend. Have a little fun for once."

"I don't see what's fun about watching a bunch of sweaty teenagers run around while listening to their parents scream at them."

"What, you've never played any sports before?"

"Not that I'm aware."

A look of surprise crossed her face. "You don't know for sure?"

Seto set his face. "Are you done?"

"Are you getting out?"

"Fine." Seto leaned forward and put a foot on the pavement, twisting his body to rise out of the car.

Miss Miyoshi's lips landed on his. The connection was quick, no more than a peck, but the sensation lingered.

He needed more of it. His body screamed for it. His hand grabbed hers and pulled her forward again. Their lips collided and it was sweet and smooth and everything he'd been longing for since that night. It was as if he could finally breathe again. Every fiber of his being was suddenly alive, alert as if shocked out of a coma.

Her fingers caressed his jaw, his neck. They slipped into the hair at the base of his skull and pulled.

"Keep it down, boy. You…"

Seto pulled back, as smoothly as possible with his heart thudding in his ears. He let her go and reached a hand up to straighten his hair.

Miss Miyoshi backed up a step and winked. "Now we're even."

"You know what I'm going to say."

"So don't say it. Take off your blazer. You're too buttoned up."

She walked away as he got out, pulling the keys from the ignition as he did so. His hands were still shaking when he slipped them into his pocket. He took the time he needed to take off his jacket and put it in the back seat to breathe and regain a modicum of composure. He rolled his sleeves up to the elbows as he followed her across the parking lot.

"I don't see how you can stand to be in long sleeves in this heat," he said. "I know about your tattoos now, there's no need to hide them."

"What?" Her steps faltered, allowing him to catch up. "You want me to show them off?"

"It is the weekend, as you've reminded me."

"You've got long sleeves."

"I dressed for a business meeting. You don't have that obligation."

She adjusted her sleeves as she chewed at the corner of her bottom lip. "Yeah, well. Maybe I want to dress this way."

He doubted that. If she dressed the way she wanted, he had a feeling she would wear something more akin to what he'd seen her in that night, but he didn't press any further. It was none of his business in the first place.

The field of the high school spread from the west corner of the building for more than a hundred yards. Its width was far more to encompass not only the main soccer and football field, but a tennis court and a baseball field at the very back. Tall metal bleachers rose on either side of the main field's length, fifteen rows high and filled with spectators. A fence surrounded it all, sectioning off the various sports fields. There was a gap in the fence, where volunteers who looked about Mokuba's age took money for tickets. From the look of the players running across the field, the game had already started.

Seto reached for his wallet as they approached the ticket booth.

"Already got you one." Miss Miyoshi was holding one small blue ticket out to him, a matching one in her other hand.

"Presumptuous of you." He took the ticket. "You couldn't have been certain I would stay."

"Five extra dollars isn't gonna break my bank account."

They showed the tickets to the kids at the fence and walked through. Mokuba's team was easy to spot in their vibrant white and blue uniforms. Seto stopped them at the corner of the bleachers, in front of the less populated lowest row, and sat down, crossing one leg over the other.

"Geez," Miss Miyoshi said. "You really like that brooding, loner attitude, don't you?"

"I would rather not be surrounded by people who could recognize me."

"You realize you stand out more down here, right?" She leaned back against the railing, elbows on the top rung. She motioned to him with one hand. "You're the best-dressed guy here. Nothing but a sea of tee shirts as far as the eye can see. You might blend in a little more if we sat with the crowd."

"Not happening."

"Suit yourself." She shrugged and turned to the field, crossing her arms on the rail. "Which one's Mokuba?"

Seto tried to pick him out, but found that he had to stand next to her to see properly. He scanned the benched players first before tracking those on the field.

"There." He pointed, indicating a player near the front of the pack. "He's the one with the long black hair."

"Center forward? Nice. He must be good."

Seto grunted an affirmative, but couldn't bring himself to speak. As he watched, he became enraptured with the boy's speed and finesse. He was more than just 'good'. There was a fire, energy, to him that made it impossible to look away. Seto's heart leaped into his throat each time Mokuba shot for the goal, anticipation skittering through his veins. He bit back a cry of dismay when it was blocked and swallowed his excitement when it scored.

All the while a longing pulled in his chest.

"Seto, here! Over here!"

Seto shook the fog out of his mind. Pain thrummed in his right temple. It was happening again. Unwanted echoes invaded his mind, threatening to unearth things and events he wanted to forget.

He pushed away from the rail, fear piercing through his chest.

Miss Miyoshi grabbed his arm. "Where're you going?"

"I can't do this."

"Yes, you can. He needs you here."

"He doesn't need me." He pulled his arm out of her grip and waved at the field. "He's doing just fine on his own."

"Then why'd you put his game on your schedule, huh?"

"I didn't do that, he did?"

"You think he would've done it if he didn't want you here?"

"Why do you care?"

Her hands balled into fists. "Cause I'm not letting you leave him hanging like you left me."

Her anger seemed far deeper than Seto would've expected, at least in comparison to what had happened last Saturday. Had him leaving her so suddenly after such a tender moment affected her that much?

The sharp point of his fear receded, only to be replaced by that old twisting guilt.

People will get hurt, boy. That's how this works.

"Seto?"

Halftime had come upon them without him realizing it. The teams were walking off the field toward their respective sides. Seto couldn't tell if Mokuba had spotted him himself or if someone had pointed him out, but the teen was walking toward them as he wiped the sweat off his face with a towel. The height of the bleachers put Mokuba as waist height with Seto. He looked up at his older brother, his eyes wide with surprise and disbelief.

"You came." He blinked and those emotions were masked by his usual flippant air. "That's cool. Was starting to think you flaked out on me again."

Seto cut his eyes at Miss Miyoshi. "It seems we were both surprised."

She looked away.

Mokuba's brows shot up behind his bangs. "What?"

"It's nothing." Miss Miyoshi knelt, arms folding over her knees, so she could look Mokuba in the eyes. She held out her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mokuba, I'm-"

"Kisa Miyoshi, right?" Mokuba shook it. "Seto's new secretary. From the pictures."

"Unfortunately. Good game so far, yeah?"

Mokuba shrugged. "I guess."

"But you're ahead."

"The Hornets usually save their best guys for the second half. They're putting me on defense after halftime."

"From what I've seen, they'd be stupid not to."

He blushed, but his grin was wide and proud. "That's right. I'm the best they got." He looked up at Seto, his smile waning. "What do you think, you know, about the game?"

Seto leaned forward against the railing. "You're doing well. I hope this means you'll be bringing a trophy home."

"You bet!"

Movement turned both their eyes to Miss Miyoshi. She had gotten to her feet and was stepping away from the rail.

"You going?" Mokuba asked.

"I've got a gig to get ready for." She patted Seto on the arm. "I'll see you Monday."

"I'll drive you," he said.

"No. Stay. Enjoy the game. I'm a big girl. I can take the bus on my own."

As certain as she sounded, Seto was not. He watched her walk off the bleachers and through the fence with trepidation, and an intense urge to follow.

"You sure you two aren't dating?" Mokuba asked.

Seto turned back to his little brother to find a curious look in his eyes. Before Seto could respond a whistle blew, signifying the end of halftime.

"Mokuba!" one of his friends called. "Come on!"

Mokuba took a step back, but didn't hurry to join his team. "You're staying, right? You're not gonna leave?"

Seto almost said no, his mind going back to all the work he'd put aside for a false business meeting. Then he saw the hope plain on Mokuba's face.

"If I'm going to stay," Seto said, "you had better win."

He hadn't seen Mokuba so happy in a long time. It almost made the productivity loss worth it.