I am so so so sorry with how long it took me to get this chapter out. I originally had this chapter started off in the right direction, but then I realized that it was way too short! And I'm not going to post something that is only 3 pages on MS Word, it would not be fair to you guys! So I needed to find a way to build in the transition into the relationship we see budding, and I finally got it out of my head and on to paper. As always, please let me know if you think this chapter needs more depth, any revisions/edits, or if it seems choppy. Sometimes things steam in my mind better than they do when typed out in story format. In any instance, I threw in some more fun language (a little strong, but moreso fun and sassy!) and responded to some reviewer's requests (I LOVE YOUR REVIEWS!), so I hope you enjoy this next chapter! And I promise my next one won't take as long (does 5,100 words make up for it?!)!

Anyways - hope all of you are enjoying your summer!

Love you all! MU :3

Serena sat on her couch, the steam coming from her ears and nose keeping the mug of coffee piping hot as she held on to it in absolute fury.

It definitely was not a date. At least, not by her expectations. Or any woman, for that matter!

Embarrassed didn't cover it. No, not by a longshot. Maybe horrified. What synonym is a step above horrified? Humiliated, perhaps? Yes, humiliated.

And completely furious.

She had shown up at 7:00 to the restaurant. Infinito was certainly a beautiful establishment, a charming little place tucked away on one of the side streets downtown. It was as if the owner ripped a piece of Italy and stuck it in Tokyo. The stone wall accents, the Mediterranean décor, and the beautiful music filled her soul with warmth when she walked in. She had dressed for the occasion as well, wearing a lilac cold-shoulder top with long, flowy sleeves that was splashed with large, magenta flowers atop a pair of figure-flattering white capris. Her hair was clipped back in spiraled curls and her makeup was softly applied, light hues of pinks and purples and a trace of mascara decorating her eyes. Her shoes were a pair of taupe wedges, not too high, but complemented her outfit. It was definitely an look that had a romantic feel to it, and when she assembled it and put it on, she felt her heart skip a beat.

It had started off fine. Ok, it had started off amazing, at least in her original rose-colored glasses. He arrived, wearing a burgundy polo and khaki Dockers, still a professional look but less casual than she had seen him before. The best way to describe his look was that the only thing he was missing was a white golf glove sticking out of the back of his pocket. But she dismissed it since, well, he was beyond gorgeous in every article of clothing she had seen him in up to this point. Long gone were her original assumptions of him. Her blossoming attraction muted all past exchanges, opinions, and frustrations. Looking back, she should not have been so quick to let down her guard. Boy, she regretted that big time.

Once they were seated and the waiter took their drink order, they began some idle chit-chat. He thanked her again for coming back out, she complemented the restaurant, he expressed his interest in reading the article, and she commented on how nice his sister is. It was moving along smoothly, so she thought, until the red head appeared.

Ah, yes, the red head. Her voluptuous bosom practically in his face, her cat-like curves accentuated in her fitted noir dress. She had kissed his cheek, he smiled up at her endearingly. They exchanged a few minutes of conversation, including when they would see each other again. Apparently they had decided on "soon," which the way it rolled off of each of their tongues, didn't seem too distant in the future. Suddenly, she felt very much like she was on their date, especially when the red head tossed her voluminous hair over her shoulder and blinked her eyes at him. As she sauntered off, Serena watched as Darien's eyes lingered on her a bit longer than a gentleman's should, and then he had the audacity to snap his attention right back to her and pick up like nothing had ever happened. In that moment, her Google search flashed back in her mind, how he was always pictured with different women, hardly ever a repeat, in any event he had attended. And right now, in this little romantic bistro, with a freshly prepared appetizer of ravioli sitting in between them, she was one of those women.

So what did she do when she realized that she was number 500 in Darien's little black book?

Why, she dumped the food all over the table and stormed out of course!

Naturally he followed after her, calling out for her as she hastily walked down the sidewalk. With each stomp on the pavement came a new definition for him: pompous. Egotistical. Entitled. Womanizer. Trickster. The names continued on with each step, more than eager to get the hell away from him. Her petite legs were no match for his long ones, however, as he caught up to her and grabbed her by the wrist, whirling her around to face him.

"What the hell was that for?!" he shouted, his pants stained with red sauce and bits of diced herbs.

"Seriously?!" she cried out, "You're sitting there ogling the red head while I'm sitting right across from you and you actually have the audacity to ask me what is wrong? What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Beryl? She's a good friend of mine," he snapped coolly. "I hardly think that your reaction was warranted to me talking to one of my friends."

"Uh huh, sure, friend. Trust me, I've looked you up, playboy. I know you're never photographed with the same woman twice. And the way your eyes were locked on her tits I'm sure you've never crossed that line of 'friendship,'" she air-quoted, daring him to answer. None came. "Well, congratulations, Darien. I never want to see you again." Spinning on her heel, she continued her hasty stomp, tunnel vision in clear focus as she saw the entrance to metro in the near-distance. She flew down the stairway and scanned her pass, mentally praising herself for opting for the one-day pass so she didn't have to stop at the ticketing station again and purchase another ticket. All she wanted to do was get the hell back to her apartment and never, ever think or see that jackass again.

She was lucky, the doors moments from closing once she reached the platform to take the rail back to her district. The train was crowded, resorting to her having to grab on to one of the overhead straps to keep her balance as the train began its acceleration. The doors sprung shut, and as the train began its descent, she saw him, Mr. Pant-stain, looking around for her feverishly. Unfortunately for her, their eyes caught each other, and as he looked at her perplexed, she did what any natural adult would do: stuck her tongue out at him and broke their contact.

The ride was a short one, and soon she was sluggishly walking on the sidewalk toward her apartment complex. He seriously couldn't have been a good guy? Did he really have no interest in her? The questions stung a little bit. She should have stuck to her intuition: he was a jerk, and he would always be a jerk.

Eventually, the walk of sulk brought her back to her apartment, where her temper was back in full swing. It was Friday night, the evening was beautiful, and damn it, she had worked hard on her looks! She pouted; life wasn't fair! Didn't she deserve a little companionship? Too bad she had tried to seek it out of the one man in Tokyo who had adulterer officially added to his ever-growing title.

Embarrassed didn't quite cover how he was feeling in that moment. Sure, the public display of childish behavior was enough to infuriate any man, but he well beyond embarrassed. Angry didn't cover it, either, considering she had likely ruined his favorite pair of chino's as well. He shrugged as soon as the thought came; they were easily replaceable. She was infuriating. Juvenile. Obnoxious. And it fascinated him like no other woman has before.

Darien's eyes lingered for another moment on her amazing backside before realizing she was walking towards the stairway to reach the metro. He just had to talk to her again and apologize. Honestly, he didn't mean to let his eyes stare at Beryl longer than they should have. Truthfully, he could care less for her; she was a socialite, a product of Daddy's oil money, and while years ago they had some fun, it was well in the past. Beryl simply was a networking connection, and even though they always mentioned they would see one another soon, it never came. Besides, Beryl enjoyed participating in more of a BDSM lifestyle, which was way out of Darien's comfort zone. Sure, a little bit of experimentation was fun every now and again, and the outfits weren't terrible to look at either, but it wasn't his thing. Not that he judged her; in fact, it allowed him to move on from her rather quickly, and mutually.

As his legs carried him down the sidewalk in great stride, he briefly contemplated why on earth he was bothering to chase after her. Clearly her opinion of him was that he was a playboy, and truthfully, she wasn't completely wrong. His job came first, to which he endured long hours, lengthy business trips, and meeting after meeting on a consistent basis. Relationships didn't fit into that mold; companions were better suited for him. It wasn't like he would go to a bar with the intent to bring a girl home or call an escort service to send a beautiful woman knocking, he just capitalized when mutual interest was expressed. But there was something about Serena that intrigued him more than any woman he had met before.

Many of the women he met in his life were compliant, dutiful, and eager to please. Sure, occasionally the confident, successful women he worked with in the corporate world sometimes expressed common companionship, but it felt more like shop talk with a little bit of passion. Women outside of the business, the ones who usually seemed to fall at his feet, were those who were interested in his looks or money, not who he was as a man. Serena, however, didn't seem to give a crap about how he looked, or what he did. Her feisty attitude and name-calling, while trivial, was quite the refreshing demeanor. She had no qualms challenging him, and when they had begun to be civil towards one another, he could see that she did have an endearing, quick witted, and fun personality. He enjoyed the night they talked on the phone, and he had thought their conversation was going well. He was man enough to admit he was wrong on staring at Beryl's ass for a moment longer, even though he had no desire towards it. It had been a while since he had been laid, after all.

The platform was crowded, and unfortunately for him, Serena was not readily visible. Grimacing, he quickly bought a ticket and passed through the gate, reaching the various subway trains. He quickly realized he had no idea where she lived, or what train she would take, so he took a chance and made his way towards the Namboku line. He frowned when he saw that the doors were closing, so he quickly peeked in, his eyes scanning for her purple top and blonde hair. She wasn't in the first car, so he made his way down the second just as the train was about to accelerate. Their eyes locked, and he was able to see in the tinted window the anger swirling in her large, blue eyes. But what knocked him down, what truly surprised him, was when she stuck her tongue out at him in defiance as her train glided away. Darien stood there, at first dumbfounded that a girl in her later twenties, a business professional, a city icon, just stuck her tongue out at him. But no sooner from his recovery did he smile. She was possessing him with a fascination, a lingering desire to see her again.

Darien grin widened as he stared out towards the empty track; he had finally met his match, and he wouldn't be so quick to let her go.

"Min, I'm standing outside Vertex. Where the hell are you?" Serena barked into the phone as another man ogled her ass in her pleather shorts. She sneered in fury; just because she was dressed up didn't give him the right to openly comment on her body. "Got a problem, jackass?" she sneered to the lanky man, his eyes covered by a buckethat, his hands shoved in his pocket as he finished his catcall.

"Not one bit, sweetcheeks. Save me a dance in there?" he grinned, his stringly facial hair inching up with his widened smile. She shivered in disgust.

"No, thank you. Girls night, after all," she snapped back, turning her attention back to the phone call. "Min, please? I'm dying out here."

"I'm right around the corner! Sheesh, Sere, cover it up if you don't want attention!" Mina scolded. Serena laughed; Mina was one to talk. While she was fiercely loyal and committed to her fiancé, Malachite, she had no problem openly flirting and getting what she wanted out of any man. Not that she ever dared to cross a line; in fact, Mina probably thought she was innocently talking with a male colleague. But the way men tripped over their feet just to be in eyeshot of her, it was amazing that Malachite was able to keep his cool.

"Puh-lease, Mina. I am open and available. I just have high expectations, is all," Serena replied as she flipped her hair over her shoulder, out of its original clip from earlier on, the curls falling in twisted bends over her exposed shoulders. After the whole Darien debacle, she called up Mina, Raye and Lita for an immediate girls night at Vertex, their favorite dance club. Sure, in her red-eyed fury she may have picked out an outfit that accentuated her body a little bit too much for her normal confidence level, but after the humiliation she just experienced, finding a suitable gentleman dance partner wouldn't be the worst way to rebound from this disastrous night.

"We're pulling up now. Hang tight." The call disconnected, Mina and Raye soon slipping out of a tan vehicle outside of the club. Serena approached them with a hug, appreciative that they were willing to drop their plans and make their way out tonight. Once she explained what had happened, the girls were more than willing to bring a dose of cheer back to their friend, especially in the form of tequila shots.

"Where's Lita?" Serena asked, noticing she wasn't with them.

"She said once she finished cleaning up the kitchen she would be down here. I guess Nate's parents were in town and they had them over for dinner." Serena nodded, recalling that Lita had mentioned her worry about trying to impress Nate's Mom with one of her dinners. If Lita didn't aspire to be a fitness guru, she easily could have succeeded in opening her own restaurant. Her culinary expertise were top notch. Serena was quite blessed to have a friend who loved to cook, and she often times would devour whatever new dish Lita imagined up one day. She grinned, recalling a batch of lemon ginger cookies Lita made for everyone, to which Serena easily ate a dozen of them. It was one of the first times they had spent together as a group, and their laughter and total surprise of Serena's endless appetite had emerged.

Linking arms, the girls wandered into Vertex, paying the $10 cover as they entered into the posh establishment. Strobe lights of magenta, violet, and blues streamed across the black walls, electronic dance music pulsing through their ears. The crowd was large, but not too crowded, as they made their way up to the bar. "Three shots of tequila and three Absolut martini's, dirty!" Mina shouted to the bartender, who quickly got to work once she placed a black platinum credit card on the table with a $10 on the side. Three shot glasses filled with the potent liquor was placed in front of them, to which they quickly shot back. Three martini's quickly replaced them, to which each girl thanked the bartender before grabbing their drinks. Not quite ready to hit the dance floor yet, the girls grabbed an open table while they waited for Lita's arrival.

"Let's check out the prospects, shall we?" Serena said, the effects of the tequila already starting to kick in. Her eyes scanned the floor, noticing a group of guys close to their age in the distance. "There," she stated, pointing her finger to the men. There were three men, a tall one with wavy, sandy blonde hair, an average-height guy with shaggy hair but ripped muscles, and a slender, but very tall man with a solid frame and longer, black hair. A smile twitched at the corners; yes, one of them would do nicely, she thought.

Looking over, she saw Raye was briefly impressed. "See something you like there, Raye?" Serena teased, to which Raye rolled her eyes. Raye was single by choice. In high school and throughout college, she was convinced she had found her true love and soulmate. Wren was a great guy; he came from Britain when he was 9, had aspirations of attending law school after college, and was completely devout to Raye. Serena was convinced that had that tragedy not struck, had he not gotten hit by that car that dark, rainy night, they would have married right when they finished their undergrad. Raye was devastated, but mourned by attacking the law books and finishing law school a year early in his honor and memory. She persevered, working diligently and bringing top-notch attorney services to her clients. While it was five years later, Raye still had a hard time moving on, although recently had begun dipping her toes back into the dating scene. Just a few weeks ago she had dinner with one of her colleagues, Jadeite, but she said it was lacking in comfortable conversation that wasn't about work.

"The one with the hair isn't so bad," Raye shrugged. Serena grinned; it was something! She shuffled over to Raye and nudged her in the arm.

"Come over with me. I want to talk to the tall one." She motioned over to the tallest of the bunch, whose facial profile was illuminated by the bright lights of the club. From a distance he was pretty cute, at least that's what the empty stomach and tequila was telling her at that moment. Linking arms, she weaved Raye over in their direction, stopping discretely at the electronic jukebox, scrolling through some of the music selections. Serena's eyes drifted intentionally towards the cute guy and back to the screen, successfully capturing his attention. Serena put on a seductive pout as she falsely tapped the sides of her pocket-less shorts, insinuating she did not have the dollar to purchase her song, mentally grinning when she saw him strolling over to them.

"Anything good on there?" a deep voice carried over the music as he arrived, leaning his arm atop the machine. Serena looked up; he was certainly more gorgeous than he looked from a distance.

"Yeah, I found a great remix by Pitbull, but I forgot that my shorts didn't have pockets, and I left my purse with my friend over there," she nodded toward the group in the distance. He briefly looked back to the girls, then back at Serena with a lopsided smile.

"I'll buy your song if you'll dance with me to it," he bartered. She smiled.

"You drive a hard bargain, but I accept," she replied. He slid the bill into the machine, allowing her to press her selection. The music began, a Latin pulse fused with high tempo beats echoing through the large space. A handful of people made their way to the dance floor, Serena and the tall guy included, Raye nodding and grinning in approval as she made her way back to the table. Soon their bodies were dancing to the beat on the crowded dance floor, moving in closer to one another as the song went on. The song soon faded into another similar track, and neither party seem disinterested in separating from one another. In fact, as the songs continued on and the dancing became more intimate, his hands eventually made their way to her hips as he pulled her in a bit closer. She closed her eyes, giving in to the movement and touches, the feeling of the alcohol and the sensual touches igniting her sexuality. However, after about twenty minutes of feverish dancing, her body signaled for some liquid, to which she asked him to join her at the bar. He followed suit, away from the crowd, and they engaged in slight conversation as he bought them a round.

"Seiya," he introduced himself eventually, giving her a dazzling smile.

"Serena," she replied, sipping into her fresh martini.

"So what brings you out tonight?" he inquired, picking up his bottle of beer and bringing it to his lips.

"Girls night recovery after one hell of a bad date," she shrugged.

"Is your evening looking up yet?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with flirtation. She felt herself begin to blush, but played into it.

"No complaints yet," she said, tossing her hair over her bare shoulder. She tossed him a playful smile before taking another sip of her drink. "But I think I need to get back to my girlfriends for a bit. Save me another dance later on?" she asked.

He frowned. "But I like where I am right now," he replied, moving his hand on hers. She looked up, slightly flattered, but didn't want to abandon her girlfriends all night long. She may have come with the intent of finding a companion, but she wasn't the kind of friend to just ditch her group. But, he was cute, and he did just buy her a drink. Her smile strained slightly; maybe she'd toss a few looks over to the girls to have them come over, but could keep the conversation flowing.

"Do you, now?" she teased, looking over at Raye quickly before snapping her eyes back on Seiya. He seemed pleased when she turned her attention back to him in the way his eyes appeared to be locked in on hers. Her nerves suddenly felt a little on edge with the way he stared at her, as if he was irritated.

"That I do," he purred, brushing her loose hair behind her ear intimately, then trailed his finger down the length of her exposed arm. She frowned slightly, unsure if she was comfortable with the contact, especially with the look that was in his eye as he did so. "So, tell me Serena, what do you do?" he asked, interrupting her hesitation.

"I'm a writer," she replied vaguely before taking in a small sip of her drink. He waited for her to elaborate, which she did not.

"Anything interesting I may have read?" he asked, raising his eyebrow as well as his beer bottle.

"Probably not," she shrugged. A few moments of silence passed between them, to which Serena began gazing around the bar again, feeling a little bored. He was cute and all, but the deafening silence that continued on between them made her realize she didn't really feel any type of connection with him. The urge to go back to her table was growing, especially when she saw that Lita had arrived. "Hey, I'm sorry but my friend just arrived. I'm going to stop over and say hello. I'll see you around?" she politely excused herself, but felt her wrist grabbed for the second time that night.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I've warranted your dismissal yet, have I?" Seiya asked, irritation laced in his words. "I mean, have I crossed a line or something?"

"No, not at all, it's honestly that my friend got here, that's all," she said, feeling his grasp tighten a bit more.

"So? I'm sure you see your friend quite often. I bought you your drink, and I'd appreciate it if you stayed here with me until you finished it," he snapped, tugging at her to come back to him. Irritated, she splashed the drink in his face, temporarily loosening his grip as she wrestled her wrist free. "Why you," he muttered as she twisted it out, but only made it a step before he tried to grab at her again.

"Leave me alone!" she shrieked as she felt him encase her slender wrist with his larger hand, panic suddenly rising in her.

"What is it with you girls? You dress all sexual and dance with us, then when it's time to spend time with us you want nothing to do with us. Seriously, am I an ATM or something?" he accosted, his grip tightening as he made his declaration.

"I don't even know you, who are you to talk to me like that?!" she challenged, twisting her wrist a bit more, her skin burning as she tried to wring it free. "Let me go!" she cried out louder, spectators now turning around and paying attention to the scene. Her cries were followed up with a loud thud, her wrist now freed as she ripped it back behind her, her view of Seiya now blocked by a tall, broad shouldered man. As she raised her glance to catch his face, she quickly realized that her savior was none other than Darien.

"What the fuck!" Seiya nasally squeaked as he grasped his nose.

"Do as she says and leave her alone," Darien coolly instructed, his impressive physique cloaked in a black clothing accentuating the authority and order in his voice. Seiya took one quick look at him, then back at her, before rolling his eyes.

"You can have the cocktease," he said as he snatched his beer and walked away. Darien's hand was coiled tightly, but Serena tapped his shoulder, relaxing his fist as he turned around to see her. In that moment she wanted to be irritated with him still, considering he was a womanizing asshole earlier that evening. However, he did just stop a random bar loser from practically assaulting her.

"Thank you," she simply said.

"Nobody should talk to you like that, let alone grab you. Are you okay?" he asked, concern in his voice. She looked at her wrist; it was still stinging from her trying to wrestle herself out of his grip, but when she did a couple of bends, it didn't hurt too badly.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she said. "Why are you here?" she inquired, suddenly realizing the obscure coincidence that in all of Tokyo, he would be in the exact same club that she was.

He dodged her question, instead taking her hand and looking at her wrist. "It's quite red. Come on, let's get you some ice." He led her over to a smaller, quieter part of the bar, situated for VIP's, while she briefly looked at her wrist and began to panic, a notable red cuff brightening on her already fair skin. Once they arrived to his seat, he gestured for her take a seat at the edge of the booth, to which she complied. Taking a couple napkins, he grabbed a few pieces of ice from the ice bucket and wrapped them around the delicate paper before placing it on her wrist. "Thank you," she added before taking over the hold of the makeshift icepack, the cool sensation taking over the burning feeling. She sighed, her nerves slightly calming a bit. Her mind was still processing everything that had happened in the short time being at the dance club, her eyes darting quickly over to Darien, who had picked his glass up and took a sip of his amber liquid. His eyes caught hers, and she quickly detached them, downcasting them in the direction of her wrist and the ice.

"That guy did not have any right to talk to you that way. I hope you know that," Darien reiterated. "It really pisses me off when guys think that they can just talk to people like that."

"Yeah, well, some guys like to stare at women's asses and tits while they're out on a date, too, so, I guess I need to pick them more carefully, don't I?" she retorted. Darien was stunned silent for a moment, but then took another sip of his drink.

"Guys like that truly are the worst," he said, which Serena raised an eyebrow to. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I really did not mean to do that."

She sighed. "It would be rude of me to not forgive you after you helped me out back there," she said as she removed the ice pack off of her wrist. She placed it on the table before standing up. "I'm going to go back to my friends. I'm sure they're wondering where I've disappeared to all night." He nodded in response, but before she could walk away, he spoke.

"Can we have a do-over?" he asked. "I didn't mean to be such an ass earlier tonight."

She frowned. "You really think that's such a good idea? I mean, look at us. We seem like a horrible idea," she stated, thinking of all of their exchanges and meetings. Sure, he was gorgeous, but they had no chemistry. "We could be good sparring partners, but I honestly think that would be it."

He sighed, rejected. "Can I at least take you out then as a thank you for what you've done for my sister and for my behavior?" She pursed her lips in thought. "Just for sushi. No funny business. Maybe we can take a step towards being cordial with each other."

"Fine," she answered. "Sushi and that's it. And I get to pick the date."

"Okay."

"Alright."

A few moments of silence lingered between them, and she took those moments and used them greedily to satisfy her own mental lusting of him. He had done it again, a red aura of passion emitting off of him, invading her senses and heightening her profiling of him. His button down shirt clung to him like a second skin, and she could see his defined muscles underneath the delicate, expensive fabric that covered him. His shirt was loosely tucked into a pair of slim-tailored pants, accentuating the curve of his hip and tracing his sculpted leg muscles. In the strobing lights, his skin color made him seem even more exotic.

Interrupting her eyefuck session, she quickly spun around on her heel to make her way back to her friends. With every step, rather than calling him every synonym for jackass in the dictionary, she found herself desperately fighting the urge to turn around.

Maybe sushi was a bad idea.