Recap: "I was just getting to know our little Roxanne better," he replied, getting closer to the blank-minded girl beside him.

"We'll see about that." Max's teeth were bared, and it looked like he was going to march toward them.

It seemed that the jealousy matches had just begun.

Chapter 6:

"Roxanne! Get away from him!" he grabbed her elbow and started to forcefully pull the young redheaded girl to him. Twisted in confusion, Roxanne's eyes became blank.

"And why do I not have the privilege to have an innocent get-together with this girl?" challenged Bradley, raising a brow.

"Well… well… because I don't trust you!" Max spat.

Bradley seemed to roll his eyes at Max's childish answer. "Is that the best you can do?" he yawned. "It seems that you are overreacting way too much; where's the fun of just getting to know more people? Right, Roxanne?"

"H-huh?" she stuttered, blinking her shiny green eyes.

"Hmm," Bradley smirked, oozing with confidence at getting Max humiliated, "how about we ask the girl if she wants make a new friend?"

"Roxanne?" Max looked less vicious as he turned to Bradley's suggestion. "Sure thing; Roxanne knows better than to go off with suspicious crooks—strangers or not!"

Bradley let out a gust of air between his pursed lips before flashing Roxanne a lingering, toothy smile. "Well, Roxanne dear? Would you like to come with me or agree with this drooling half-wit of a canine?"

Max quickly wiped his mouth with his sleeve. His frowning face was tinted with a light shade of pink.

Roxanne looked up at Bradley, finally snapping back to normal, but leaving reality once again to consult her conscience. The voice inside her Roxanne had always trusted very mildly noticed Max fussing over her ward, and decided to remind the girl what they had finalized earlier in the taxi.

Roxanne, remember...? We vowed to meet more people, part of the healing process. If you listen to Max now, you'll only trouble him.

Bradley's grin faltered as Roxanne lowered her head, eyes shut tight. She listened steadily to the voice which she did not force herself to argue with this time, and the length of their small conversation made Max tiptoe where he stood to glance at what Roxanne was doing.

She looked up, and Bradley fixed a dashing smile on his face again. "Sure," she said, striving to sound as casual as she always did. I don't have much to do before I can pick up on my new job, and I'd better familiarize myself with the locals before settling down." She finished it off with a sunshiny smile.

"Smart girl," Bradley said, planting an arm around her shoulders as he steered her to another subject, away from the area into his car, and away from Max, whom he gave a smug smirk oozing with malice.

But before Max could begin to act upon another reckless action, a pair of cold, slim fingers clasped his shoulders. "Maxie!" she cried. "Where in the world did you go? I was a little worried when you wouldn't come back inside."

"Oh, sorry," he said in a distant voice, not looking at her. He couldn't possibly tell her that he had been threatening the 'gracious' guest they had for dinner. "Nothing. I just saw Roxanne."

Don't I know it, she thought wrathfully as she ushered Max back inside. I was watching that little scene as I ran out in here.

Dumbfounded, Max allowed her to steer him away, unaware of the evil thoughts that were running in his girlfriend's mind.

What a faithful friend, that Bradley… stuck right to the plan.

Meanwhile…

"Wow," Roxanne commented as she got into the seat her host helped her into. "It looks even more glamorous on the inside." She struggled to look friendly, but the truth was that she was feeling rather overwhelmed. She felt underdressed, her one of her pant legs shorter than the other, and everywhere she could feel different gazes hit her like frostbite.

She quickly turned her gaze to what was in front of her, feeling very aware of the billowing chandeliers that hovered above her red head. It was gloriously beautiful and, she continuously reminded herself, inanimate and therefore was not holding its chin up and critically scrutinizing her with narrowed eyes.

Roxanne fixed a wide grin on her face, her hands flapping onto her lap. However this time, it was clear that she was trying much too hard. Bradley smirked at how fake her smile was and leaned forward whilst giving his drink a stir. "Well, I like to make our guests feel comfortable," he said in answer to her first comment. He would have laughed if he hadn't just picked up his goblet to sip into—he apparently was conscious of how uncomfortable he was making her.

"Ah well…" Roxanne trailed off, thinking up a subject. Conscience couldn't help her with conversations, could she? Roxanne gave Bradley a tentative glance—even he managed to look regal in his purple vest. The goblet in front of her—identical to Bradley's—caught her eye. "Oh, what's in this beverage? Cocktail?"

"Why don't you try it and see?" Bradley suggested with a smirk, his chin on his linked fingers.

"Ah well, if it's a cocktail of some sort I don't think I'm—" she was cut off when the drink touched her delicate lips, and she tumbled onto the ground. Bradley clapped his hands and a group of butlers began to pick her up from the floor.

"Wow, just simple touch to the lips to knock 'em out?" Bradley chuckled as he took her into his arms. The men bowed and Bradley began to take her away, a malicious glint in his eye.

I hope you don't mind me getting off track of the plan, Mona dear, he thought before he began to cackle evilly.

(A/N: Bradley's evilness seems to be overacted, but he's been practicing on his evil laugh so… yeah.)

Back at the apartment, Max was starting to feel troubled. He sat at his couch writhing and wrenching here and there, calling for Mona's attention only to withdraw, until he finally succeeded in knocking over her juice tray.

"Damn, sorry, Mo," he apologized as he got on one knee to clean the mess. She got down as well. "I just feel a bit uneasy."

"Hmm, well maybe you just need a dose of my specialized soup," she said brightly. She felt comfortable cooking for him again—and only him. Perhaps after the meal things would get back to normal.

"Oh thanks, that sounds great," he said, taking the dishcloth she held out to him. "I'll finish up here."

She watched him for a few seconds as he mopped up the mess, a curious look on his face. She knew that he still felt dazed because he had not yet noticed her presence.

"Hey, Max?" she said finally.

"Hm? Yeah?"

Thump.

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A tremendous headache hung over Roxanne and she struggled to open her eyes. She could hear voices in the distance, and different hands seemed to touch, poke and brush against her—some small and petite, others with long fingers.

"Is this bra lace? Looks cute, but rather childish looking though…"

Finally, her eyes fluttered open and she found herself on a white bed surrounded by a cluster of girls in maid outfits.

"Now to remove these inappropriate looking jeans…"

"Wha—?! Wait! What are you guys doing with my clothes?!" Her mind whirled of the movies she watched as a kid—when the cowboy pulled the trigger the townspeople would rush over to the corpse and began tearing away all of his possessions. Were they doing that now before throwing her deprived body into a garbage bag?

"Miss, please do not move. Your manicure isn't dry yet."

"M-manicure?" She certainly did not recall the townspeople painting the corpse's nails as they fed on his things. Her fingers flew to her face, and her nails, which were always neat and untainted, were now painted an elegant shade of pearl white.

But before she could utter a word, they had forced her into a spaghetti strapped corset and taffeta skirt. They started to pull off her jeans to add thigh-high stockings when they it dropped to the ground and all maids gasped.

It took her only a moment to realize what they were gaping at.

Pain and embarrassment cut through her as she attempted to suppress the sight of her wound. It had now entered a different stage, when the grazed skin, moist from her body's natural antibacterial oils, turned a bright shade of pinkish red.

"That's enough."

All females turned in the direction of the voice. Hands in pockets, Bradley stepped into the room. "I believe the lady is now ready."

Roxanne wasn't stupid. She knew that when he said 'the lady', he was referring to her. "R-ready for what?" she asked, a frown on her sweet face.

"But the miss' makeup has not yet been applied," one of the maids graciously protested, looking mildly fearful, as if expecting a forceful contradiction.

"I said it's fine!" he said loudly, and all maids drew back at once. Roxanne, who sat up in the bed, raised an eyebrow. Bradley, seeing her eyes on him, immediately changed his tone of voice. "After all," he said, walking smoothly over to her to help her onto the floor, "the lady prefers her face pure; am I correct?"

She shrugged. "I'm not really inclined to makeup," she said, suspiciously eyeing his outstretched hand toward her, "but what do you plan to do with me?"

"Hmm… how should I say this? …You'll find out."

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A/N: *screams bloody murder and attempts to hide from readers*