Chapter Two – The Plan Kicks Off
Kagome craned forward, staring in abject shock at the silver-haired youkai still seated behind his desk. "I'm sorry, what?" Confusion spiked her voice.
Sesshoumaru Taisho met her eye in the way he always did, as if her presence were an imposition to be tolerated. There was no leering interest in his gaze – hardly any recognition at all – and the indifference brought its usual comfort. Many had told her a youkai's façade occasionally slipped, revealing a predatory gleam when they thought no one was watching. Sesshoumaru's control either never faltered, or he had permanently put to rest the beast within.
Of course, those who claimed such insight had no dealings with demons, and she had plenty. She knew the centuries-old beings were as varied as humans – some were decent, some were not. She had come to the conclusion her boss was of the decent cast, albeit brooding and humorless, during their interview, which was why his off-hand proposition now rocked her to the core. But hadn't these last few years shown her she was a terrible judge of character?
Kagome took in the white lines of his expensive, understated dress shirt, as impeccably-pressed and crease-free as any in his wardrobe, with sleeves he never rolled up and a starched collar buttoned all the way to the top. He was wearing a red-and-ivory tie she knew he favored, and aside from the moon on his forehead and the tips of magenta stripes he often hid behind his hair, it was the only splash of color he bore. He looked like himself. So why had he suddenly gone insane?
Sesshoumaru quelled a sigh. "I believe I was clear," he closed the file and leaned back in his chair, groping for patience. "My daughter thinks I should be courting a female with the intent of forming a lasting union. She has gone so far as to accost strangers and speak on my behalf. I wish for it to desist at once."
Kagome plunked down in a chair of her own. "So… I don't know, ground her?"
"No," Sesshoumaru flashed his fangs in a rare youkai display of displeasure, reluctant to divulge information on someone he guarded so fiercely. He no longer called upon old ways or instincts frequently – there was little place for them in the modern world – but would do so without hesitation for Rin. "She did not have an easy life before I came into it. I don't want to punish her for something she thinks is helpful."
Kagome mulled his scheme over, drawing her hands into her lap. "We don't even know each other," she started awkwardly.
"It will only be a ruse, and very temporary," he assured. "I believe Rin will be cured after a single excursion or two."
"Look," her exhale was strangely weary, as if she was tired of often being asked to pose for a life not hers. "I can't pretend to date you, sir."
Sesshoumaru felt his irritation flare. "Why not?" Most females fell over themselves in vain attempts to gain his attentions. The fact his latest hire hadn't done the same – viewing him solely as a corporate head who cared little for bureaucracy – had originally been a boon, but was now… unfortunate.
"There are… things… in my life," Kagome began, staring at her hands. "Things that would make your life difficult if you were to get involved with me – even as an act."
Although her thick perfume masked too much of her scent to pick out emotions, he heard a slight tremble of fear in her voice. "Things…?" He trailed off, gauging her.
Kagome squirmed under his scrutiny, and Sesshoumaru realized he was not alone in his desire for privacy. There was something about the way she was suddenly holding herself, trying to look smaller, that felt familiar. It hit in a dawning rush as he recognized the body language Rin had first worn as his ward. The body language her birth father had beaten into her daily.
"Are you in danger, Miss Higurashi?" He asked softly.
Her writhing ceased as she went rigid. She began to protest, plastering on an overly-bright smile he had never seen her use as she shook her head, waving him away like the notion was absurd. "No, no. N-Nothing like that. I just know you're not a fan of mess, and whoo-boy, if my apartment is any indication…."
He let her stammered lies fall to background, having all the answer he needed. She rambled on, tripping over her words in her scramble to convince him, and it was so eerily reminiscent of Rin's earliest interactions, after she'd recovered from her near-mute state, that Sesshoumaru felt his swallow catch in his throat.
He held up a clawed hand. "Fine. Understood," he said. "Sorry to have asked," he palmed his desk, rising slowly.
Kagome looked up from her chair. "I'm really sorry I can't help—."
"It was a foolish idea," he came around, stopping at the desk's corner, giving her a wide berth. He knew his height was considerable, and didn't want to tower over her while she sat. "Social feints do not come naturally to me."
"It's alright—."
"It's not," he interrupted, not meeting her eye. "It was deeply inappropriate, given my station. Forgive me," memories of the past few weeks surged up, and Sesshoumaru sifted for instances where he might have unwittingly gotten too close, or spoken too harshly.
Kagome zeroed in on his downward gaze, and the ample space he'd left between them. The daiyoukai was proving himself to be many things, but contrite and careful were not among them. She flushed bright red. "Ah," she murmured. "I see," she stood stiffly, smoothing the front of her dress. "You're going to treat me differently now."
Golden eyes snapped up. "I would never punish you for refusing—."
"Not that," she cut in, flicking her finger back and forth to the feet separating them. "This. You're going to be all cautious and wary, like I'm made of glass, ready to shatter at any moment," Kagome heaved a gusty sigh. "Please don't."
Sesshoumaru crossed his arms, then immediately rethought the stance, letting them fall to his sides.
"See? Like that," Kagome gestured. "I'm not so fragile that I'll read into every semi-assertive position you take, sir," she swept a hand through her hair, realizing too late she'd worn it up that morning. New tendrils escaped, brushing her temples, and she tried smoothing them to no avail. "Look," Kagome palmed her hips purposefully, pleased as he caught the power pose with a twitch of his mouth. "How long has Rin been after you to find a wife?"
He couldn't bring himself to correct her. 'Wife' was a shallow, human equivalent to what his daughter sought for him. "Far longer than I should have allowed," he uttered truthfully.
"And she's what? Eleven?"
"Twelve."
"So almost a teenager," Kagome mused. "If you think it's bad now, wait a year."
Sesshoumaru paled.
Her gaze lingered in consideration, and he fought the urge to straighten. She was not truly assessing him as a prospective demoness might; there was no need to showcase the span of his frame or the strength of his stance. He had never felt such an instinct's whispered beckon before, and resolutely kept his lean.
"Fine," she acquiesced. "We can go on one sham date. You'll see I'm not some traumatized victim, your daughter will realize she should butt out of your love life, and I'll get to watch your terrible idea blow up in your face to make up for this whole, meek-and-mild routine."
His brain stuttered at the barb she'd hurled so casually. When it sank in, he nearly snarled, digging claws into wood as he throttled the desk's edge. "I am not meek-and—!"
"I know," Kagome rolled her eyes, privately noting his beast was not slumbering. "Which is why it's all the more insulting to see you try."
Sesshoumaru's glare was livid, but she stood her ground, waiting expectantly. After a long moment, he cursed, yanking his claws free. "This is why I don't share things at the office, Miss Higurashi," he said curtly.
"Sharing doesn't usually get contentious," she chided. "You're just bad at it."
Kagome was slipping arms into her jacket and reaching for her purse when Sesshoumaru emerged from his office, his own coat and scarf already on.
"Leaving so soon, sir?" She glanced at the clock on the far wall. "It's not even seven yet."
He nodded, approaching with determined steps.
Looks like Mr. Mastermind Extraordinaire's going to amend the deal, she thought, making a big show of closing her buttons. Let's see what range he deems acceptable for Little Damaged Kagome.
Sesshoumaru didn't disappoint, faltering on the threshold he'd spanned earlier at his desk, before crossing to stop where he usually did near her elbow. He always stood a bit closer than most people, and the occasional flare of his nostrils told her it was to try discerning her scent through the miko-made perfume she wore. She doubted he was even conscious of his proximity – so accustomed to unraveling any unknowns around him with his heightened senses.
"Care for company out, Miss Higurashi?" He ventured gruffly, aware she had witnessed his pause, but plowing forward regardless.
Kagome bit back a smile, retrieving her winter hat and tugging it over head. It had been a gift from her brother Souta last year, festooned with the largest pompom to ever exist on its top. She loved it. "What happened to one date, sir?" She glanced around, knowing everyone left by five, but checking to be sure. "We're not going to start a whole fake relationship, are we? You never like company."
Sesshoumaru wordlessly withdrew his cellphone, holding it up for her to read a thread of recent texts.
.
What do you mean you asked your assistant to dinner?
The lady with the boring dress?
Why?!
What about all the women you've turned down? What's wrong with them?
Why'd you pick her? Is it just a work thing?
.
It is not for work.
.
Yeah right. I bet you guys will just talk swords and old battlegrounds the whole time.
.
"She does not believe it will be a genuine date," he grumbled.
"Can't imagine why," Kagome lost her struggle and felt a smile rise. "You sold it so well."
He gave her a flat look as she slipped on her mittens.
"You just have so much game, sir," mirth filled her voice. "I thought with a lone outing I'd be safe. What if I succumb to your charms?" Her smile grew to a wide grin. "First accompanying me to the lobby… then what? Opening a door? Inquiring about my day?"
Sesshoumaru extended his arm woodenly, and Kagome took it, trying—and failing—to stifle a giggle.
"I did not know you could be so… playful, Miss Higurashi," scanning to see she had all her belongings, he spun them towards the elevators. "I believe it will keep my 'game' in check."
Her fingers squeezed his forearm through the wool of her mitten. "Oh yes. That's what will hinder it," amusement glittered in her eyes as they walked. "It'd be boundless otherwise."
A quiet growl rose from his throat, and Kagome laughed.
"This might actually be kind of fun," she admitted as they reached a wall of shiny, chrome doors. "We'll get to know each other better."
"I do not—."
"Yes, yes, I know. Have such 'proclivities'," she waved him off with her other hand. "It'll happen anyway. For example, I've already learned you're extremely easy to embarrass."
Sesshoumaru blinked, trying to process. Where had his assistant vanished off to? Who was this impudent creature that dared to—.
Kagome sobered. "We have to be careful though," she warned, reaching out and pressing a down arrow nearby. "We can't advertise past the office – nothing that attracts attention."
"To avoid your life 'things'," Sesshoumaru heard himself say.
"Exactly," the elevator dinged and a set of metal doors opened. "We only need to convince Rin. If any media outlet got wind of you cavorting with someone, it'd be all over the news in an hour."
Sesshoumaru shook his head as they stepped inside. "I am not such a novelty anymore. There are far more sensationalistic youkai to focus their skulking attentions on. Adopting Rin was the last piece they attempted to write about me."
"Attempted?"
"The journalist in question had quite a scare," he stared straight ahead. "So I'm told."
"Oh?" Her look turned dry. "What'd you do?"
"Nothing," he brushed an invisible speck from her shoulder. "Lurking in darkness to issue threats of bodily harm is rather mild compared to what I'm capable of."
Kagome rolled her eyes. "That doesn't sound armchair-boring to me."
"I never claimed your assumptions about me were correct," a clawed finger stretched for the button to the ground floor.
Kagome noted his bare hands as they broke their contact, letting their joined arms fall. "You're not wearing gloves? It's the middle of January."
Sesshoumaru glanced at her from the corner of his eye. How little humans still knew of his kind. "The cold does not affect me," he thumbed the trailing ends of his charcoal scarf. "I wear winter attire only to blend in."
Kagome snorted. "Nothing about you 'blends in'," she roamed over pointed ears, stark stripes, and the crest on his forehead meaningfully.
"And here I thought you did not notice my otherworldly beauty."
Her jaw fell. Had her stodgy boss just made a joke?!
The corner of his mouth threatened to rise as he watched her, coaxing out her smile's return.
"Now you're the playful one!" She exclaimed, delighted.
"Hn."
They rode the rest of the way down in silence. When the elevator sank to the ground, and the doors chimed open, Sesshoumaru recaptured her hand, grabbing it up and folding it into his elbow. "Rin is thorough," he cautioned, leading the way as they exited together. He was purposefully slow, and Kagome soon realized why, as an evening custodian came around the corner, wheeling a soap-filled mop bucket.
The man's eyes bugged, before he offered them a hasty nod. "Night Mr. Taisho, Miss Higurashi."
"Goodnight!" Kagome waved cheerfully.
Sesshoumaru strode for the main doors, and Kagome leaned into him, still clinging.
"You knew he was nearby?"
He canted his head, letting the hair fall from his ears so they were in plain view.
"Right," she tapped the blunt roundness of her own. "That's some impressive range you got there."
Sesshoumaru dismissed the observation. The custodian was in the same building – hardly a feat. "I have no doubt my daughter will start questioning the staff about the legitimacy of our… dates," he said instead.
"Wonder where she gets that thoroughness from," Kagome teased, reaching for the door's bar and pushing it open. "Can't imagine who taught her."
They stepped out into the gathering night, oversized snowflakes drifting down in lazy, unhurried tumbles. They quickly stuck to shoulders, catching on eyelashes and the tops of noses, and Sesshoumaru watched as they accumulated on the monstrously-fluffy puff-thing atop his assistant's hat.
"Dinner tomorrow night?" He asked. "Seven?
"At a restaurant?" Her nervousness returned.
"At my house," he reassured.
"Sure," the trepidation remained. "Sounds like a plan."
