Chapter Twenty-Two
Seto had never been on a date, not in the traditional sense. He hesitated to call anything he and Kisa had done up to that point 'dating'. 'Trist', perhaps. 'Affair' was better.
In the past, there had been office events where he'd been obligated to spend time with female staff and the daughters of his investors and business partners. They'd been attractive, but none of them had appealed to him, not in the way Kisa did. Those women had come in with expectations, assurances that if they played their cards right, they would be the one he picked. Kisa came into his life with zero expectations, yet she was the one Seto wanted to impress more than anyone. He spent all week planning that night, making reservations, assuring himself that everything would be perfect for his beautiful, rough-edged, tattooed… girlfriend?
The mere idea of the word left a thick sticky lump in his throat. Was that what she was? They had not discussed terms, but it felt wrong to call her anything else. What were they to each other, exactly? Far more than employer and employee. They'd blown past that distinction months ago. More than just old friends, and the phrase 'friends with benefits' left a sour taste in his mouth.
The tabloids seemed to be having trouble categorizing them as well. There'd been a snap taken of the two of them getting off the plane that past Sunday, in the moment just before Seto dropped her hand. It was obvious the three of them had gone away together, though no one could tell exactly where. As far as anyone could tell, they'd dropped off the map the moment they left the city.
The benefits of small-town living, he supposed.
No doubt there would be more pictures over the weekend, but he tried not to care. This was their moment. He wasn't about to let those vultures ruin it.
Still, Seto's nerves danced as he prepared for the evening. He tried on and ruled out several suits before settling on a white three-piece ensemble that he paired with a light blue shirt and dark navy tie that matched his eyes. The satin strip was accented with shimmering threads that shined in the correct lighting.
Mokuba stood in the doorway of Seto's bedroom, leaning against the doorframe, watching his older brother fuss. He'd been especially moody since they returned last weekend. He'd been reluctant to get on the plane home, saying ridiculous things like he 'didn't want to leave'. When Seto insisted that they couldn't stay, that that place wasn't 'home', the teen had clammed up and refused to speak to him for the rest of the day. Seto had been so busy working and trying to plan his date, he hadn't had the time to deal with Mokuba's attitude.
Tomorrow, Seto told himself, feeling the burn of Mokuba's glare on the back of his head. He would deal with Mokuba tomorrow.
Mokuba broke the silence, his tone hard and sharp. "Why you gotta look like you're getting married?"
The mere idea quickened Seto's pulse. "Rest assured, that is not in my plans."
"Or, you know, you'll just hop off to Vegas and leave me hangin. Why not? You'd probably do it if she asked."
Seto closed his eyes and tried to ease the irritating ache in his temple. "Mokuba, I would never leave you behind, even if that were the case."
"Like you didn't 'leave me behind' when you and her went off to Berlin to party and have wild sex."
Heat flushed Seto's neck. He turned to Mokuba, his fists clenched. "What happened in Germany was by chance, as I have already explained."
Mokuba scoffed. "Convenient."
"You had no argument when you were allowed to spend nearly the whole week with your friend."
"Till she started taking you away from me." Mokuba jerked an arm out the door. "It was bad enough when you were just working all the time. Now she's got you wrapped around her little finger and you can't even see me."
"I'm looking at you right now."
Mokuba stomped his foot. "That's not what I meant! I wished you'd just left me with Aunt Moriko. At least she listens to me."
"You live here!"
"Maybe I don't wanna live here! You ever think about that, genius? Maybe I hate it here. I hate that you never listen to me. You act like I don't exist most of the time. I try to talk to you, but you shut me out. Now that she's around all you do is work and get your dick wet."
Seto was across the room in three strides. Mokuba never flinched, not even when his big brother grabbed the front of his t-shirt. Mokuba stared at him, hard grey eyes stormy and scornful.
"Do it," he said through clenched teeth. "I dare you."
Seto's jaw was clenched tight enough to break teeth. His hands shook. His nails bit into his palms.
You're never going to get obedience that way.
Seto exhaled hard through his nose and let go, hands falling to his sides. Every fiber of his being felt wound tight.
Mokuba looked disappointed. "I knew you couldn't do it. Coward."
"Mokuba-"
"Whatever." Mokuba flipped his bangs out of his face and walked away, hands in his pockets. "Do whatever you want. I don't care. Just don't expect me to wait up."
Seto didn't have the strength to follow. Mokuba's door slammed down the hall and Seto collapsed to his knees. He stared at his hands, still shaking and cold. There were little crescent indents in his palms, red and stinging.
Grow up, boy.
Seto curled his fingers. His phone chimed, sending his heart into his throat. Seto pulled it out of his pocket to find a text message from Kisa.
'Just got back from getting my hair done. Should be ready when you get here. Can't wait!'
As he read, another arrived.
'Love you'
Seto stared down at those two little words. Sitting there, in the doorway of his bedroom, he couldn't wrap his mind around how, let alone why.
Seto sat in his car outside Kisa's home, in the dark and quiet, for many long minutes. Everything in him screamed to go back and deal with the situation with Mokuba.
Tomorrow, he told himself again. He'd deal with it tomorrow. Tonight was supposed to be all about him and Kisa, about finally putting their relationship out into the world. He wouldn't let anything get in the way of that.
Seto forced himself out of the car and up the walk to her door. He rang the bell and stepped back. He busied his hands by checking his tie one last time and making sure the buttons of his jacket were neat. When Kisa opened the door, not even the worst of his moods could stop the smile that came over him.
She'd blushed so prettily when he handed her his credit card and told her to buy whatever dress she fancied, that he had too many birthdays and Christmases to make up for. He didn't care how much she'd spent. Every penny was worth it.
Her gown was a few shades darker than her eyes, cinched at the waist, its hem barely brushing the floor. The tip of a silver heel peeked from underneath. Her hair was done in loose curls that flowed over one shoulder. Her neckline dipped low between her breasts. Her arms were sleeved in intricate lace and she had a thick white shawl draped over her shoulders to protect her from the chill November air. When she smiled Seto's heart pounded back into motion, as if electrified.
"Too much?" she asked.
Seto swept her into his arms and kissed her. His hands skimmed up her back. A possessive growl worked up his throat when he found the skin free of fabric.
He pulled away and she sighed. "I guess not."
"You chose a low cut on purpose."
"You mentioned low in the back, figured if you got what you wanted, I should get what I wanted too."
Seto let his eyes fall from her face to appreciate her dress. "Specifically to tease me."
"Maybe." She winked. "Or maybe I wanted to see just how many monocles I could get popping when I walk in the room."
Seto backed up a step and held out his arm. "Let's find out."
The Ember was a small fine dining restaurant on the top floor of a skyscraper that towered over the bay. Seto and Kisa entered the darkened dining room arm in arm, where a sharp-dressed maitre d waited to escort them to a table by the windows. The room was filled with the hum of whispered conversation, barely audible over the soft easy jazz being played from a platform at the back of the room. There was a small space before the stage fit for dancing, but no one was.
Eyes followed them to their table, some wide with shock, others narrowed with polite disdain. Seto needed only glance at one such pair of eyes to know they were fixed on the dangerously low cut of Kisa's neckline. The maitre d went to take their coats and Seto saw him pause after Kisa slipped her shawl from her shoulders. The back of her dress latched at the base of her neck, but everything from her shoulder blades to the small of her back was bare. There was a swelling of satisfaction in Seto's chest when the whispering around them picked up a fresh pace of urgency.
The maitre d helped Kisa into her seat. "Can I offer you something to drink before your meal?"
Seto seated himself. "Your best white."
The man nodded and scurried away to store their coats.
"I think I've caused a stir." Kisa was unable to hide her smile.
"That's an understatement." Seto opened the embossed leather menu in front of him. "I would say it's more of an 'uproar'."
She laughed, soft and restrained.
Seto looked up at her, head bowed as if he were still examining the menu. Kisa looked around the room with the fascination of a child in a new place. Her cheeks shined with highlight. Her lips shimmered. She looked out over the bay and the glimmering lights of the city and he saw them reflected in her eyes. She was perfect. Not even Mokuba could change that.
Seto felt a weight settle on his shoulders. He let out a heavy breath and the menu dipped back.
"What's wrong?" Kisa asked.
Seto jerked his head from side to side; once to the left, once to the right. "It's nothing."
Their waiter arrived, just as Kisa was moving as if to press harder. The man held the large bottle over his arm and Seto inspected the label. Seto tasted the wine before deeming it acceptable and letting the man pour a glass for Kisa. She was still watching him, eyes intense and probing as Seto relayed his order to the waiter. She answered kindly enough when asked what she wanted, but her eyes never left his.
When they were alone again, Kisa leaned forward on her arms. "Seto, what is it?"
"I told you," he said, "it's nothing."
"Don't lie to me."
Seto paused in lifting his glass, then set it down. He looked into the bubbling wine. "We had an argument."
"What about?"
Seto looked at her, his gaze steady.
"Me?" she asked.
"He seems to believe that I'm putting you before him."
Her fingers played with her glass, spinning it slowly in circles. "Are you?"
"Of course not. He's the most important thing in my life, next to you."
"Maybe you should tell him that."
"He should know." Seto felt that familiar tension in his jaw, in his shoulders.
Kisa didn't look so sure. "Seto-"
He raised a hand. "Enough. Tonight is not about Mokuba." He laid his hand on the table, palm up. "This is about us. I want to do this right."
Kisa sighed with a smile and laid her hand in his. "You can be so extra sometimes."
"Is that bad?"
"Not really. It's kinda cute." Her thumb rubbed firm on his hand. "Promise me you'll talk to him."
"Kisa-"
"I mean it. I love him just as much as you do. I want him to know that I'm not going to replace him or take you away from him or anything like that." She squeezed his fingers.
Seto squeezed back. "I promise. Tomorrow. For now, I want you to enjoy yourself."
Kisa raised her glass. "To us?"
He raised his, and their glasses came together in a delicate chime that seemed to ring through the restaurant.
"To us."