Love and other contractual obligations

Chapter 1: Filling the house with babies.

She didn't care.

She turned her head so the sight of her husband pressing his broad palm into that luxuriant curve of a bare spine flashed out of her peripheral vision.

Not a bit. Not at all.

The bare spine giggled audibly, and she could imagine him leaning into her, his whisper for her ears only. She let a smile split her face as someone's wife approached in greeting, murmuring her well wishes, inquiring about children, and air-kissing distractedly.

One, two.

Don't look.

She didn't care. It was just a matter of reputation, is all. He would be perfectly at his leisure, if he conducted his sordid affairs out of sight of these society gossips. She'd have a word later. Yes.

She was good at small talk. When she first married, she was staunchly adamant that she wouldn't let these people change her. She would be Rei of the Red Shrine whether they liked it or not, and that particular Rei had little tact for meaningless conversation. She shifted her weight from one pointed heel to another and pulled at her knee-length dress. Look at her now in full makeup and costume, hosting society housewives and househusbands in the marble hallways of Lancaster Manor. She'd learned all of this bullshit from the best. Rei of the Red Shrine would have been appalled.

She lifted her chin, cool and collected as Jadeite sauntered towards her, whiskey glass dangling from his fingers, and goose-flesh pimpled her arms as he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. She shifted her weight again. He smelled good.

They rarely interacted. The longest conversation they'd had was on the day they met, when she'd stormed guns blazing into his office, brandishing the Last Will and Testimony, and demanded the punch line. It was absurd. He wanted Brandon Publishing, she wanted the Shrine. Her father – may he rot in Hell – wanted a merger. And stability for his only child, apparently, in his demented twisted way. This was all half hers, her would-be husband had pointed out, after she'd torn up the second copy of high quality card stock from Ushijima and Partners. Her father's stupid Will basically insured she, as wife, would own half of the Lancaster assets. He'd slapped down an accompanying pre-nup, of course.

The papers were signed within the week. The Shrine was safe.

His smelling good had no part in this business transaction.

"I like this dress, wife."

This whisper was for her, in his whiskey-smooth tenor, and she suppressed a shiver. This was not supposed to happen. She refused to find any quality about him attractive, out of principle.

"You're drunk, Jadeite."

He was meant to be the spoiled boy who inherited his riches rather than working for them. He was meant to be the petulant misogynist the tabloids insisted. A grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as she reached out to sharply jerked his tie into place. Outwardly, they were an amicable couple, affectionate even, and she reminded him, close to the angle of his jaw, that— "no one is going to buy it if you continue to fool around in public like that, husband."

He was half a head taller than her even in these heels. She glanced up after fussing with his collar to see his face tilted towards her, blue eyes watching, his expression unreadable.

She cleared her throat and moved to step back. "Take her up to your wing of the house and out of sight, please. Don't forget that you've somehow invited all the gossip-mongers in the kilometre-radius to this little shin-dig."

His arm came up to snag her around the waist, pulling her closer. Instinctually her hands grasped his forearms for a little balance. The heat of his body, his lips against her temple made her next breath hitch. "And you? When will you come to my suite, wife?"

Pulling free of his hold, she glared back without any particular vitriol, her heart racing. "You're drunk," she repeated over her shoulder. The bare spine with the blonde hair was dancing over again to pluck at his hand as she let the crowd swallow her.

He's just drunk. Don't look.

Much later, she undressed in the dim light of her bedroom. She did like this dress, this body-skimming cream sheath tailored within an inch of its life. If she'd had a wedding, she imagined she'd have worn something similar, maybe to the reception. Her hands moved roughly with sudden irritation. The papers were signed a year ago, and neither of them had been in the mood for any kind of festive affair, so why think of it now? She grimaced when her hair caught in the zip. Great.

Rei threw open the French doors to the balcony and stepped outside. It was a cool night without a breeze, and the moon hung round and high in the sky. When she'd first arrived, she'd promised herself she'd stay the same. She'd promised herself that she'd never change, that she'd never let them change her. She braced her hands on the gilt railing, looking beyond into the gardens below. She thought she'd hate them forever in memory of her mother and what Brandon did to her.

Most of all, she promised herself she'd never let a man ruin her. No. No. Her fingers tightened around the metal. She would never be her mother, waiting and waiting and dying from waiting. Even as she lay close to death, she never stopped hoping that he'd roll up to the Shrine steps to prove he'd cared all along. Sometimes, Rei found herself hating the woman for it, hating that soft creature aching for her man. It had been tortuously long at the end.

This was a paper marriage, that's all. It meant nothing. It was an objective, pragmatic exchange between fully informed individuals. It was perfect.

None of her friends believed her when she insisted that she didn't mind being married to her father's protégé. Maybe Ami, the more practical one of the lot, could follow her wayward, convoluted logic. But then again, she was never as close to Ami as she was with Mina. The blonde had been predictably appalled – she remembered quite fondly – descending upon her in Japan to demand a straight answer.

"Have you… I don't know… held hands? Kissed?" Said blonde gestured with her half-finished ice block, as Rei edged out of the way of flying coloured cream.

"It's a contract, doofus. We haven't had any contact, period."

"But it's a marriage!" Mina managed through her mouthful. "How can you possibly be so calm about this!"

This thought had niggled at Rei, but she continued to refuse acknowledging it in any way. "I'm not a romantic like you. I have to be practical."

Mina rolled her eyes, "Ami is practical; you're in denial."

Rei mouthed the last of her ice as she twisted her rings around her finger. She wouldn't be the first daughter pawned off in a business transaction, and she certainly wouldn't be the last, and she said so (again).

"Besides, I don't own the Shrine. I'd be basically homeless."

Mina's face fell. "Not true! There's no reason you couldn't stay with us – any of us!"

Rei smiled wryly, propping her chin in her hands. They both knew it wasn't the case. Ami and Mina weren't even based in the country any more. How wonderful it was, though, to have these forever girlfriends.

"I always thought I'd end up being the trophy wife," Mina sighed. "Now I couldn't imagine it. You're even contracted against divorce. What are you even going to do with all that time?"

She knew what would ideally happen in the eyes of the Lancasters. "They probably want me to have a couple of babies. Fill up that massive house. A baby for each room." She burst out laughing at Mina's horrified expression. "Joking." Thank goodness her fiancé had found that clause as distasteful as she had.

She flopped back against the deck, her black hair spreading in a pool around her. "I'm thinking about a career in wealth redistribution," she announced.

"What, the Lancaster wealth?"

"Yep, Lancaster-Hino wealth. Or Hino-Lancaster. Whatever." She picked invisible lint out of her eyelashes. "Maybe I'll head their charitable contributions, their patronages or something. Spend all the money and end tuberculosis. Who knows."

"Very funny. You know that actually requires you to go to charity benefits and concerts, and throw parties and stuff. You hate those things." Mina propped herself up on her elbow. "Plus you suck at small talk."

"I'll get used to it then." She sighed. "I'll learn." She'd played the trophy daughter at these stupid events before; playing trophy hostess couldn't be much worse.

"So… what's he like?"

A beat passed between them as Rei thought of something neutral to say.

"He's… younger than I thought," she decided finally. She'd expected someone older, it was true. Maybe someone indulgently paunch with lecherous eyes, or someone tailored into a stiff suit and filled with bored disinterest. Someone with a cruel, hard mouth, like her father.

"What, you didn't like anything else about him? What about his eyes? I thought the Lancasters were all half-English."

He was tall. Quiet. She remembered his eyes were blue.

"I like his office?—hey!" she protested loudly as Mina swatted at her shoulder in disgust. "You would have liked it too! Very high ceilings."

She supposed it was all very anticlimactic for the girls. After her long years of dramatic family feuding, here was Rei Hino obediently acquiescing to an arranged marriage. Who could have imagined?

"Fuck, let's talk about something else. Tell me about that dreamy co-star you have. The doctor one."

For a moment, it felt like the old days, with Mina pulling a face as she recounted her extra grabby colleagues with wild gesticulations. This was it. Standing on the balcony, she fingered the ring again, the smooth gold band now marked by gentle wear, and she felt a heavy sadness blanket her. All of it needed to stay in ancient history where it belonged.

His deep voice pulled her from her reverie.

"Wife."

It would have been the perfect paper marriage, she sighed. She'd rather miscalculated in an aspect or two. "What are you doing in my suite?"

He was leaning against the door jamb between her room and the balcony. His shirt was unbuttoned two from the top, and he had removed his tie at some point. His tousled blond hair gleamed in the blue moonlight. "Low-key checking in, I suppose." His grin was uncharacteristically sheepish, even hesitant.

He probably felt bad that she was alone and he was being… entertained. She didn't remember seeing Miss Bare Spine leave at the end of the party.

She scoffed, "I'm not in any danger of jumping, if that's what you mean."

Her arms twisted into the railing behind her as she allowed herself to see him, really see. He really was good looking. Mixed Japanese heritage but as blue-eyed and long-limbed as they come, and the lilting cadence of his Japanese was perfect. Good-looking for his type, she amended silently. She refused to acknowledge anything remotely attractive about this man, out of principle. Not his broad shoulders or his narrow, shrewd eyes. Not the way his shirt sleeves were shoved up to the elbow, or the way his forearms had tensed up under her hands.

He crossed his arms. "You're too brave to jump," he remarked.

She didn't agree. For example, if she was really so brave, she would have been able to ask him what he meant by that comment. He met her gaze like he always did, always watching for a weakness, a button to push. He had resolve like steel under that happy-go-lucky, shit-eating grin.

She imagined his mouth ghosting over Bare Spine-girl's ear like a soft caress. If Rei was really so brave, she would tell him to fuck off back to his long-legged beauty right this minute, and leave her alone. No, she wasn't brave at all.

"Well." Slowly, she turned, winding her arms out from around the metal railings. The air was still between them as she turned nonchalantly to face the garden. He was watching; her neck prickled with that hackled awareness as his gaze traversed her back, her hips. She knew how to draw this stare. She had had this power since she was a young girl. A slender arm reached up and brushed her straight black hair over her shoulder out of the way, exposing the caught zipper. "Since you're here."

He was only two or three strides away. Her heart thudded in her chest like a drum. She knew when he was close. She could hear his feet on the tiles – then his warmth was at her back, his breath stirring the fine hairs on her neck. His fingers skimmed down the length of the zip, working her hair gently free. Her body throbbed awake. She wanted him to clasp her around the waist with his large hands, his palm on her skin, and fold her into his body. She could go on hating him tomorrow, she promised. That would be fine, right?

The hair root pinched just a bit, then the zip was free. She exhaled. He had her caged against the edge of the balcony, and all she wanted to do was tilt her head and bare her neck. His hands were paused on the zip tab, a crossroads of decision, and she found herself begging silently for… Wait.

The zip slid smoothly down as he inched it past her ribs to the small of her back, just as her arms shot up instinctively to catch the loosening fabric around her. No no, Rei, what—

He drew a ragged breath behind her, his first sound, as she suddenly turned back around, her falling dress held tightly to her body. He was stepping away— "Look, I came here just to tell you that—" he ran his fingers roughly through his hair. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. Good night."

He had folded himself back into her room and was probably back in his wing of the house by the time she realised she was too cold to still be out here, half dressed, half undressed.

She'd forgotten what it was like. The power. The flame beckoning the moth. It was as heady and wonderful as it had always been.

She stepped back into her room but kept the French doors cracked just a bit. Her arms slackened and the white dress slipped down to pool at her feet. She'll wake up hating him, she promised herself. She let the smallest smile catch at her lips. That ought to be acceptable.

Let's try this again, shall we? Let me know what you think.

xx