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Disclaimer: Kubo owns Bleach. Credits to Ninya.
Chapter Four: Occasional displays of affection.
Rukia just got to his snazzy, shiny dark blue sports car that was probably more than double the value of her house. Ichigo held the door open for her and they drove off.
"We're here," he announced as he pulled over in front of a magnificent building with a glass facade. Two sharply-dressed doormen came over to hold the car door open for them and escort them to the entrance.
Standing by the doorway of the vast space richly appointed with luxurious, if a little gaudy interior, and the endless rows of glass cases showcasing a mind-boggling and literally blinding array of jewelry, she felt conscious.
- Don't feel small. No one can do that to you but yourself. -
"Are you okay?" Ichigo murmured as he slipped an arm behind her waist.
Rukia tensed at the touch but saw a beaming man in a suit barreling toward them excitedly, his arms gesturing so grandly she swore he was about to take a deep bow in front of them. The man was large and muscular but with long wavy black hair, large glossy lips and curly eyelashes.
- Okay, he's peculiar. -
"Mr. Kurosaki, welcome, welcome!" the man greeted as he shook Ichigo's hand. He turned to her, his smile curling a little into a near-sneer as he did a quick appraisal of Rukia's appearance—like she'd somehow dragged in the mud across his pristine floors—and offered his hand. "You must be the lucky lady who snagged this equally lucky man here—one of our favorite customers! Let me welcome you to my Delicious, Avaricious, Superstitious, Surreptitious, Expeditious, Ceremonious, felonious, Glorious, Laborious, Glamorous 'Rosa Blanca' Jewelry shop. I'm Charlotte Chuhlhourne, at your service."
- Uhh.. that was the longest introduction I'd ever heard. -
Rukia gaped at Charlotte like he was insane before speaking to Ichigo in a hushed tone. '' What planet do you think this guy came from?"
"Planet of the apes."
Ichigo said followed by an amused chuckle, Rukia smiled, at least the man has a sense of humor. She gripped Charlotte's hand firmly, giving him a sunny smile as her shoulders squared. "Rukia Kuchiki. Nice to meet you Mr. Two Horns, I mean, Chuhlhorne."
Ichigo's hand squeezed her waist. She snuck up a glance at him, she could see that he had a ghost of a smile on his lips and his hazel eyes were bright with humor.
"Charlotte, we'd like to see those exclusive designs you mentioned on the phone," Ichigo said in a business-like tone. "Bring the other item as well and maybe give us a moment before your staff brings in the designs."
Charlotte's head went up and down like one of those bobble-head cats on a taxi's dashboard.
"Of course, Mr. Kurosaki," the man answered before stepping aside."Please follow me to the viewing room."
They followed the man down a private hall, a good two feet away behind him. Ichigo straightened, took her by the arm, and guided her into one of the two leather-cushioned seats in front of a long, beautifully hand-crafted wooden table. A row of four crystal pendant lights shone brightly down on the table, reflecting against the glass cases and the various stones that glittered among the impressive jewelry collection laid out for them.
"We've already set this up here for you but I'll instruct the staff to bring in the rest in ten minutes or so, Mr. Kurosaki, Ms. Kuchiki," Charlotte said before he bowed deeply and took his leave, shutting the door softly behind him.
"Everything is so... shiny," Rukia said as she glanced at the blinding display of rings and the opulent interior of the cozy room. "And expensive."
He smirked. "I always want the best. If you're going to be Mrs. Kurosaki, you're going to want the same."
Rukia brightened. "Can I have the best husband then? I clearly drew the short straw on that."
Instead of a prickly come back, he just barked a laugh. "No, I clearly drew the short one," he said with a sardonic grin. "How tall are you? Do you even reach five feet?"
"I'm five-two, for your information!" she protested, swatting him on the shoulder. "Not all of us are towering giants! I'll have you know that I can be five-eight in four-inch high heels."
His brows furrowed. "The math doesn't work in that equation."
She gritted her teeth. "Heard of in-soles and platforms, genius?"
He just laughed. "I have but I thought you didn't wear platforms."
Rukia crossed her arms over her chest grumpily. "I don't but it doesn't mean I've never worn them. It doesn't mean that just because I'm practical, I don't go a little crazy sometimes and wear high heels."
Like once in a blue moon.
"You could've worn them today," he said, eyeing her flip-flops.
"They don't go with this dress and I've got only one pair. I only take those beauties out on really special occasions and going shopping with you is hardly special," She rambled on. "Besides, who runs errands in hooker heels?"
If the light in his eyes changed even for just a second, Rukia couldn't tell because he quickly looked away. "So, I have something to give you," he said after clearing his throat, the playfulness gone from his voice. He reached for a small, black velvet-wrapped box sitting on the table and lifted the lid up slowly.
"What is it?" Rukia asked leaning forward to look. She sucked in her breath, her eyes literally bulging.
"Is this an asteroid?" She said through her suddenly dry throat, glancing up at Ichigo who was watching her closely instead of gazing at the engagement ring he was holding.
"It's your engagement ring," he said with a sigh as he beamed up at him. He lifted the ring out of the box and held out his hand to her. "I picked it out a couple of days ago but I wanted to make sure you liked it."
She watched as he took her hand and slipped the ring over her finger, the cold band contrasting the feel of his warm skin against hers.
"So, do you like it?"
Rukia glanced at it again, mesmerized by the large, princess-cut diamond sitting on an elegant platinum band with a diamond-encrusted V-shaped prong setting that held the rock together.
"It's gorgeous and frightening at the same time."
Its substantial weight had a conflicting effect on her. She felt the dreadful weight of the scheme she was going along with Ichigo. This was no joke or prank. She was really marrying Ichigo Kurosaki for money and survival and it left an ugly taste in her mouth.
Suddenly, he reached for her hand and gave it a light squeeze before he turned his attention to the display. "Anyway, we have to pick out our wedding rings," he said just as two sales people walked into the room behind Charlotte. He smiled broadly at them before seating himself from across the table.
Charlotte spent the next half hour singing praises for each set they looked at and Rukia was nearing the end of her patience. Ichigo, meanwhile, was going through the motions of inspecting each piece with a certain detachment as if he wanted to be somewhere else but here with her, choosing rings for their phony marriage.
"Mr. Kurosaki, take a look at our bestest, wonderful , pretty, Super, fantastic, romantic, dramatic -
- What the hell?! -
A vein popped Rukia's forehead and to end both their misery, she pointed to a plain platinum band with a narrow, pale gold stripe on the center. "I want that one."
Charlotte looked crestfallen. "This? We have more unique designs featuring—"
"I want it simple and uncomplicated," Rukia said firmly. "I don't like a lot of trappings. Marriage is complicated enough, don't you think?"
"Um," Charlotte said, his voice trailing off, casting a hopeful glance at Ichigo.
"Rukia can have whatever she chooses," Ichigo said quietly, nodding at the set she'd chosen. "I like it too. Have it sized accordingly and have it ready next Friday."
Charlotte rose and dispatched orders to his minions, leaving them for a moment to get some paperwork. When he was gone, she leaned close to Ichigo. "So, do you really like it or did you just say that to show a united front?"
He studied her from the corner of his eye and smiled faintly. "I liked it. It was the only thing that didn't look overdone. I'm glad you didn't go for that three-tiered band one with diamond stripes on it."
She grinned. "It was a bit ostentatious. Well, I'm glad we agree. That's a first for us. And hopefully the last."
"The last?" he asked, his brows wrinkling in amused confusion. "I thought we made a pact to try to get along."
Rukia shrugged. "To get along, sure, but that doesn't equate to me agreeing with you all the time. I've decided that if I didn't want to shrink up and die from too much etiquette and propriety, I'll need to disagree with you on a lot of things."
He arched his brows at her. "How will we get along if you don't agree with me?"
She rolled her eyes. "Well, you can agree with me. You just did, with the rings. That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Ichigo looked at her as if he couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or amused at her. "whatever."
"Are we done here?"
"Is that it?" he asked, looking around in mild surprise. "You don't want anything else from here?"
She looked around uncertainly. "Uh, no, not really. Besides, I can't afford anything here except maybe the nice paperbag the stuff comes in."
He sighed. "You really have to wrap your head around the fact that you're going to be rich—at least for a year. It wouldn't do for a Mrs. Kurosaki to be telling people she can't afford something."
She thrust her chin up proudly. "I may be in this devil's deal with you but it doesn't mean I'm completely unfair. I only want to spend what is rightfully mine and whatever money I get out of this, I'll spend on something more practical than some bling."
Ichigo didn't say anything more after that. He just shook his head as if he couldn't figure out what she was babbling about and had no patience to figure it out. He signed the paperwork and in ten minutes they were out of the store, heading for his car.
"I can take a cab from here," she said, pausing by the door. "You probably have more important things to do."
"I'll drive you home," he insisted, holding the door open. "Get in."
Rukia sighed and made no move to get inside the car. It had been a crazy half day and she needed some solitary time to get a grip. Spending another fifteen minutes with Ichigo wasn't going to help her achieve that. "I can get home just fine. I'm not twelve, you know?"
"Yeah, just seven years older than that which isn't much to recommend your ability to take care of yourself," he pointed out. "Now, get in or I'll shove you inside."
Her shoulders squared. "You wouldn't dare."
He arched an imperious brow at her. "I would dare a lot."
"You're a bully."
"And you're trying my patience," he countered, taking a step forward to back her into the open door of the car. "Get in the car, Rukia. Don't try me." He leaned closer and now she could see the dangerous glimmer in his eyes.
Rukia swallowed hard, unable to come up with a witty comeback. She glanced away and was about to relent when he suddenly grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her up against him, his mouth anchoring on hers.
- Damn. There's fireworks. -
The sudden flare of heat and electricity that swept through her startled her into a frozen state where she could hear or see nothing except the sudden drum-dance of her heart and the flash of light behind her closed eyes. Rukia's mind went blank until Ichigo's warm, soft lips moved against hers, angling slightly to one side to deepen the kiss, his tongue slowly teasing its way into her mouth. At that bold move, her reflexes fired back up to life and she reacted. Her arms slipped around his neck as she pushed herself up on her toes, allowing his own arms to wrap around her waist as she matched his every assault.
No one would ever make the mistake of thinking her a shy soul but she was also never particularly aggressive. But as Ichigo's own heated reaction started to sabotage his restraint with the way his fingers were digging into her hips and the way his little growls and moans grew raspy as their lips parted for a second to change angles, Rukia let herself go and kissed him for all she was worth.
Then as quickly as he yanked her to him, he grasped her by the arms and pushed her away. Rukia opened her eyes and sought his and even in the bright light of day, she could see the dark, sensual haze in them as he battled for breath and control.
- So I wasn't dancing that tango alone. -
"What was that about?" She asked between breaths. "You... you... kissed me."
"I did," he said with a nod, the emotions in his eyes finally disappearing behind the usual shutters as he straightened up and squared his shoulders. "There was a pap snapping photos of us across the street. If we're going to sell this marriage to my father and the public, proof that we're crazy for each other would do that."
That felt like a bucket of ice cold water poured down on her. "How the hell would they know where to find us?" she demanded, trying not to give her anger away.
They had a business agreement and the occasional displays of affection were stated in the contract. She had no right to get upset just because the kiss affected her so much.
"I called ahead to the store to tell them that my fiancee and I are picking out wedding rings," he answered flatly, showing no sign of his earlier... distress. "Charlotte and his staff know how to work the publicity for their benefit. That's why I selected this store for all of our wedding jewelry instead of having private jewellers show us their designs privately. They're not best known for discretion. Besides, it doesn't take much for gossip bits like this to leak out."
A damn publicity stunt. That was what it was.
"You might want to warn me next time so I don't slap you," Rukia muttered through clenched teeth.
A small smile appeared on the corner of his mouth. "Hmm. It didn't seem like you were trying to protest anyway."
Her fists balled on my sides. "You are such an ass."
And with that, she slipped inside the car, slammed the door shut and strapped on her seatbelt with a decisive yank of her arm. She was fuming as she sat there while Ichigo drove her home. Rukia gave him the directions to her place in a small, quiet neighborhood full of dainty, cookie-cutter houses. The car hadn't come to a full stop yet when she scrambled out of it and slammed the car door behind her.
She was so pissed.
Rukia ignored him as she marched up to her front porch, unlocked the door and bolted it close.
.
.
"Hello, Ms. Rukia Kuchiki! I'm Orihime Inoue and I'm your personal assistant and temporary wedding coordinator. It's so nice to finally meet you. How are you doing today?"
Rukia blinked and took a step back, not sure if she was having a lucid dream because the woman's neon pink skirt-and-suit ensemble seemed offensive enough to her eyesight that this couldn't possibly be some hazy nightmare featuring serial killer Barbie.
The late morning sun's glare went out of focus, allowing her to concentrate on the woman standing at her door, sporting the most beautiful, golden orange hair. She flashed her a pearly-white smile, her... cheerfulness so palpable it hurt to look at her for another second.
"Um, sorry, I didn't catch what you just said," Rukia said, giving her an apologetic smile and squinting as her bright pink outfit tortured her eyes further. "I just worked a nine-hour night shift and was sleeping for a little bit. Only half my brain is working right now."
Her pretty face etched with concern. "Oh, a bride must get at least eight hours of beauty sleep every night, especially with only two weeks left before her big day. We must remedy that. We also need to ramp up your diet and make sure you're eating healthy and staying fit so that you'll look nothing less than perfect when you walk down the aisle. We have work to do, Ms. Kuchiki."
In the groggy web of her consciousness, the woman's earlier statements echoed until their meaning fully sank in. Holding up a hand to stop her from making any more attempts to come through the door, Rukia grabbed her cellphone tucked under the waistband of her yoga pants and dialed a number.
As it rang, she peered over the woman's shoulder to scan the street outside and saw a black town car parked out front. A tall man with a shaved head was leaning against it, watching us with a remote expression on his face.
"Yes?"
"Ichigo, what in the world is Ms. Inoue doing at my house?"
Ichigo chuckled. "Didn't she introduce herself? She's your new personal assistant and an acting wedding coordinator until the one I hired finishes the wedding she's doing this weekend."
Her fist clenched but she pasted a smile on her face for the woman's sake. It wasn't her fault that Ichigo thought it awfully hilarious to inflict the woman on her.
"I'm fine on my own. I don't need a personal assitant," Rukia replied although she silently cringed at the crestfallen look on Ms. Inoue's face.
"Yes, you do," he said with a sigh. "You're getting tossed into unknown waters with no time to teach you how to swim or at least keep your head up. Inoue will help you navigate your way around. She comes highly recommended. I suggest you take full advantage of her skills."
She gritted her teeth. "I feel incredibly rude discussing this with you on the phone while she's right in front of me but I've managed on my own my entire life Ichigo , and I'll manage being your wife just as well."
There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, finality in his voice. "If you don't want her help, fire her. Only you can do it."
The line disconnected and she stared at the phone as if it were some alien creature about to cover her hand with slime. She swallowed uneasily, tossing the gadget to the ratty bench by foyer and glancing up at Ms. Inoue . She was watching her with her eyes big with trepidation and hope.
- Fire her? How the hell will I fire her? It's like kicking a bunny and enjoying it. -
She was young, probably only a handful of years older than Rukia, but her wide-eyed gaze was clearly innocent and demure. It was also apparent that she desperately and earnestly wanted to help—even if Rukia didn't need or welcome any of it.
- Damn you, Kurosaki. You just know how to twist my arm. -
"Hi," Rukia greeted her sheepishly.
She beamed at her. "Hello. So, will you keep me, Ms. Kuchiki? I can make your life so much easier and more fabulous!"
- What do they feed this girl? Sunshine and daisies? -
She nodded. "Yeah, you're on board. Sorry about that. Come on in."
- Because I can't kick bunnies. I love them. -
"So, Ms. Inoue," she started awkwardly. "What's your first name again?"
She brightened, extending a hand to her. " Orihime Inoue."
Rukia flashed her a smile and shook her hand. "My name is Rukia Kuchiki. It's nice to meet you."
"Oh, no, I'm ecstatic to meet you!" the woman gushed, her beautiful curls bouncing around her shoulders. "I was so honored when Mr. Kurosaki handpicked me as his future wife's right hand. Everyone is so curious about you!"
She grimaced. "Well, this curiosity isn't going to kill the cats—just merely bore them. There's nothing special going on here, trust me. Just a regular girl. Marrying a regu—er, I mean, great guy. Simple wedding. Simple marriage. No fuss."
Inoue's eyes widened in disbelief. "No fuss? How can people not fuss when everyone's so caught up in the movie-like romance of your love story? You two look so in love! Just look at this!"
She backed away quickly to give herself room to pull out a folded tabloid from under the little filing folder she was hugging. With her practically prancing in her heels with excitement, she handed the paper to Rukia.
She scanned the front page of the gossip tabloid and groaned, slapping her forehead.
The article's title screamed in capital letters: DINER CINDERELLA CAPTURES KUROSAKI PRINCE!
It went on to detail how Ichigo ran into her at Urahara's one night a while ago and was unable to take his mind off her until they saw each other again this week. He got her to finally sit down with him, talk and fall madly and instantly in love.
Rukia had a feeling Ichigo fed them this story because as far-fetched as it sounded to her, the story was written so convincingly, one would have to be heartless to be unaffected.
If they only knew.
There was an enlarged photo of her hand sporting her giant engagement ring and another much larger shot of her and Ichigo locked in a passionate embrace as they kissed in front of the jewelry store from their trip there yesterday morning. The image was a little grainy but there was no mistaking Ichigo. Rukia, on the other hand, had her back turned to the camera, her hair in a tangled mess, her arms wrapped around Ichigo's neck.
"See? Isn't that so sweet?" Inoue's bubbly voice penetrated Rukia's whirling thoughts.
- Sweet was merely one of the by-products of our talented acting—well, Ichigo's talented acting.
Her cheeks flamed and her fingers curled around the edge of the tabloid, crumpling the paper.
"Something wrong, Ms. Kuchiki?" Inoue prompted, peering at her with concern.
Rukia looked up at her, smiling while she forced her annoyance back down. "Just thinking about all these nosy paps who can't mind their own business. I don't particularly enjoy their overeager interest."
"I completely understand. It's part of my job to make sure they don't bother you too much. The man you saw out front is Ikkaku Madarame and he's going to be your chauffer and bodyguard. He scared away the paps who were stalking around the street earlier but they never stay too far."
Rukia's eyes bulged. "There were paps outside earlier?"
"Yes. The news of your whirlwind romance and engagement to Mr. Kurosaki has been spreading like wildfire in the last twenty-four hours. It's only a matter of time before they track you down and hound after every bit of juicy information they can get about and from you."
She swallowed hard. "That doesn't sound fun."
Inoue shook her head. "No, it isn't always. It's great if the publicity is helping one of your causes but most of the time, they're just digging for dirt which is never nice."
"Well, I'm glad you're here to help me then," Rukia chirped with forced cheerfulness, smiling at Inoue. "Ichigo said you came highly recommended. You must know the ropes like no other. And please, just call me Rukia."
The woman, heaven bless her, perked up and nodded energetically. " Yes, I will Rukia Kurosaki.
- Rukia Kurosaki, holy crap. -
She felt the urge to flee and never look back but she forced herself another dose of fortitude. She may be poor and down on her luck but she was never a coward.
"Just Rukia. It helps to keep me grounded. I'll confess that Ichigo's world intimidates me a little. I'm not used to it and it's not used to me. I'll need all the help I can get."
The twinkle in Inoue's eyes should've warned her. "And I'll give you all the help you'll need Rukia-san," she promised. "We start today. Your brand new wardrobe is arriving in fifteen minutes."
.
.
It was well past eight at night when Rainbow Tornado finally left her in peace. Rukia was so exhausted she wouldn't have made it to her Saturday evening shift at Urahara's if she'd tried.
- Oh no, I'm going to see Isshin tomorrow. He's going to know we're completely lying to him. -
She had relented and traded her shift tomorrow so she could attend the brunch with Ichigo and his father. Rukia wanted to see the old man but she was terrified that he would see right through her while she sat there at the breakfast table, tortured by guilt and remorse for participating in this deception Ichigo concocted.
She need to figure out why Isshin wanted her to marry Ichigo in the first place. If she could at least help him with that, she'd feel better.
Stalking to the fridge that was newly restocked by a pair of guys from one of those fancy groceries who came over earlier at Inoue's instructions, she took out a plastic container of cut-up fruits and transferred some to a small bowl.
She was just snacking on it when the doorbell rang.
"Who is it this time?" Rukia grumbled as she contemplated the amount of energy she'd use to get up from the table and answer the door. "A sleep-pattern analyst?"
The doorbell sounded off again and she groaned, pushing herself off the chair. She peeked through the window to look at the porch—something Inoue insisted on in case it was a pap waiting for her outside—and saw the tall, dark outline of Ichigo as he tapped his foot impatiently and glanced over at her through the window.
Reluctantly, Rukia pulled the door open.
"You'll need to have this door reinforced and secured with additional locks," he said without preliminaries. "I could've just kicked it down."
"I'm amazed at your restraint," She blurted out at him.
"It's for your own safety, Rukia." he reminded her softly.
"I'm so tired that I can't argue with you right now," she grumbled. "If that's what you came here for, goodnight and goodbye."
He raised a brow, raking in her appearance with his eyes from head to toe. "This is what I get after making you spend the day with fashion and beauty experts?"
She was in her old pajamas, a thin and faded shirt from high school, and her hair was twisted into a knot on top of her head.
Rukia glowered at him. "Well, I'm not exactly dressed for company. If you want to get your money's worth, wait till tomorrow." She turned away and moved to close the door on him but his hand shot out and pushed it back, shouldering his way inside her house.
Grinding her teeth, she waited while he stood by the foyer and looked around.
"Looks cozy," he said with a half-smile, turning to her. "We'll hire a housekeeper to look after it while you're living with me."
Rukia walked back to the dining room and lifted another forkful of fruits into her mouth. "Don't worry about it. I'll come in once a week to clean it."
He followed her and pulled out a chair for himself. "You can't be cleaning houses when we're married—that's crazy," he said firmly. "Besides, you won't have time. You'll be busy doing all your social duties."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes. How can I forget about all that mindless and idle elbow-rubbing I have to do with your esteemed society friends?"
He studied her for a moment before letting out a slow exhale. "I know it's overwhelming but it's part of the role. I'll do what I can to make it less painful for you but you have to take your duties seriously, Rukia. I won't just stand and let you humiliate me or my family name."
She sent him a look full of daggers. "You're just pissing me off now. Go away, will you?"
His lips quirked into a faint smile. "Not until you sign the revised contract. And we have to go over our story so we don't mess it up with Dad tomorrow."
Rukia opened the thin folder he handed her and flipped through the pages. "Why don't I just stay mute and you can say whatever you want to say? From what I've read in the papers so far, you've spun us a fairy tale romance. I'd hate to ruin it by saying I kissed a prince and he turned into a frog."
He rumbled out a laugh, taking her by surprise. "Did he just seem like a frog to you because you enjoyed the kiss so much when you wanted to absolutely hate it?"
Her cheeks flushed and she feigned a shudder of disgust. "I'd hate to crush your hopes and dreams but it wasn't all that special. I've had and will still have better."
His eyes narrowed. "You're not allowed kissing other men, Rukia. Ever."
She raised a brow, chuckling. "Ever?"
"I mean, at least while you're married to me," he clarified, his jaw clenching when he realized his error.
"I don't know why you'd care," She said with a roll of her eyes. "It's not like you're keeping your legs crossed with other women while married to me."
"It's a marriage of convenience," he bit out, looking agitated now. "And I'm a man with needs."
Rukia scoffed. "And I don't? It's the twenty-first century Ichigo, and your caveman instincts are really out of date."
She watched as the hand he laid on the table curled into a fist. "If you have those needs, you come to me."
The world spun for a second.
- Did he just really say that?
"What?" She asked dumbly, though her face felt like it was on fire.
"I'll be your husband and it'll be my responsibility to make sure that your needs are taken care of and satisfied," he explained, almost in a business-like tone.
Her temper flared. "So if I have an itch to scratch, I'll come to you and give you the honors."
- It was crude, I know, but he deserved it.
"Either you do or you live with it on your own," he snapped, straightening in his chair. Clearly, this conversation was making him uncomfortable. Well, that made two of them.
"You have ten seconds to get out of my house,Kurosaki," Rukia grated.
He bolted out of his seat and leaned down at her. "I hate being given countdowns."
She met his steady gaze. "And I hate crass and insensitive jerks like you."
"There's nothing crass about admitting to your sexual desires, Rukia," he replied, his voice softer this time—and more seductive, it would seem. "It's perfectly natural to have them but I'm getting the idea here that you've never really given them free reign."He cupped her chin with his fingers and she fought to stay unaffected.
She moved her face away from him and his smoldering gaze. "Not everyone has the luxury of seeing to their carnal needs, Ichigo, which the whole country knows you indulge in on a regular basis. But don't worry, I'll keep you in mind when I get really, really desperate that I'll screw anything in my path. You would do, I'm sure. After all, a mindless f-ck means nothing, right?"
He looked angry as he pulled back and picked up the contract she'd angrily scribbled her signature on without even reading it thoroughly.
"As for our story, let's just stick with what's on the papers, okay? Because they can definitely see this hoax marriage in a far better light than I can right now," Rukia continued coldly, handing him the first tabloid Inoue gave her earlier. "Now, get out."
He took the paper without glancing at it.
He looked angry and... torn.
"Rukia..."
"Get the hell out of my house."
Without another word, Ichigo stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
Oh no..
One year is going to be a freaking eternity.
me: We decided to keep Ichigo's POV a mystery for now. We're gonna let your imagination take over for that part. :D
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Thank You for the wonderful reviews, long or short we, appreaciate it and sorry if theres no reply today, nxt chap perhaps.