AN: This was the busiest summer of my life. I deeply apologize for not updating as I promised I would, but little did I plan that this summer I would be living with my Grandparents for most of my vacation, babysitting, job-hunting, and helping to prepare my aunt's wedding. This summer was a summer of many Firsts. I got my driver's license, I learned how to fill out a job application, I got hired for a job, I did a great many things that I'm pretty sure you guys probably wouldn't care about...but it's been the best summer of my life...the only thing I regret is that I didn't have the time to write more for LSFT.

So here we go, my break will be over in two days and now I've finally finished the next chapter. I know it's not as deep as my other chapters, but understand that due to the strain of many other aspects of my life at the moment, it's the best I can do for now. I hope you enjoy.

Please review and let me know what you think.

"Sloan?"

The brunette smiled and waved. Dressed in an oversized 'I LOVE NEW YORK' sweatshirt and loose fitting, worn jeans, she exuded an American girl charm, making her stand out like a nail in a box of screws. In a sea of Japanese citizens, she was unmistakably a foreigner.

"Hey Jack," she greeted, her face absolutely ecstatic.

Stunned by the sight of her, Jack stood rooted to his spot. "What are you doing here?" His baffled amazement made her laugh.

Slinging a black duffle bag over her shoulders, she sauntered on over to him. Her brown eyes sparkling.

"Hey, you loser," she jeered., "Is that all you have to say to me when I've just flown thousands of miles last night to come and help you?"

Jack locked the door a soon as they got into his office.

"Sloan!" Mitch greeted; shocked and happy to see their American friend. He stood up, throwing the magazine he had been reading onto the couch. "What are you doing here? It's great to see you!"

Sloan walked into his open arms and gave him a friendly hug. "Why thank you Mitch, at least one of you is happy to see me," she remarked dryly, stepping out of his embrace. Over her shoulder she glared at Jack. He didn't look too concerned as he walked over to sit behind his desk.

"Don't mind Jack; he's always cranky," Mitch assured her. "So, what brings you to Japan?"

"Business," she replied; a playful glint to her eyes.

"She's got an update on the Tsukino Usagi story," Jack explained, seeing Mitch's obvious confusion.

Mitch groaned. "Jack I thought we all ready discussed this. We haven't got anything on the Tsukino Usagi case. I thought we had given up on that." It was clear he was immensely irritated as he turned to frown at Jack.

"We weren't really giving up, Mitch," Jack, who didn't look at all bothered by the frustrated tone of his friend, clarified calmly, "I call it—uh—taking a break."

"I call it," Mitch retorted snappily, "you're obsessive."

"That works too," Jack nodded in agreement, and then looked to Sloan, who was silently observing his office.

"You like?"

She was startled at his amused voice. He had caught her examining his office. "Nice," she drawled out appraisingly, taking another sweeping look around the room for effect. "I see why you came all this way to Japan just to do the same job you were doing in the States. You get your own furnished office."

Jack smiled; she sounded a little bitter, but he didn't think much of it. "It definitely has its benefits."

Mitch was grumbling to himself on the couch; staring daggers at his two companions. "Did either of you think to clue me in?" He sounded very annoyed.

Dropping her duffle bag to the floor, Sloan sank down onto the couch beside Mitch. "Sorry, Mitch," she said, her face apologetic. "I thought you knew. I'm surprised bozo, over there, didn't say anything to you."

"Right," Mitch bit out sarcastically, "We have such a great partnership; he wouldn't think of leaving me in the dark about all his scheming. Say, did you two plan this?" He asked, indicating towards her bag on the floor.

Jack answered. "No, we didn't. Trust me when I say I was just as surprised to see her standing in the lobby."

Sloan unconsciously pressed herself back into the cushions of the couch as the full force of both men's wary stare settled on her. In her defense she shouted, "What?"

"What are you doing here, Sloan?" Jack demanded.

Expelling a nervous breath, Sloan closed her eyes for a second; hoping to gain enough strength to tell her news. "You're right Jack," she nodded solemnly, "You were absolutely right. There is a connection between Tsukino Usagi and Serena St. James."

Mitch looked doubtful, while Jack smiled smugly.

"Okay, let's hear it," Jack prodded.

Sloan continued. "SJ Corps is being investigated; it's supposed to be a big secret, but it's being whispered all over Wall Street."

"You mean SJ Corps, as in the family owned and operated business corporation of the St. James?" Mitch asked incredulously.

"They very one," Sloan affirmed. She turned to look at Jack to see how he was handling her bit of news, and saw that a concentrated frown furrowed his brows; her silence made him look up. He nodded to her to go on with her story.

"SJ Corps is being investigated under suspicions of unlawful activity. Like for one," she listed, "the embezzlement of money."

"No way," Mitch couldn't contain his excitement, "Aren't the St. James supposed to have a pristine image? I mean, no one could possibly be as clean and square as their family. Oh, man, and now we find out after all these years that the family has a secret!"

"I wouldn't say it like that," Sloan rebuffed, "The family, if you noticed, is all dead. Ronald St. James is the only one left running all the business ventures. It is he who has blemished the family name. In fact," Sloan added with a twisted smile, "Ronald was always the odd one in the family."

"I think I heard something about that," Jack replied, "It was on one of those celebrity bios shows. You know, where they take someone who's in the spot light a lot and they do a short documentary of how they came to fame."

"His great grandfather founded the company way back in the nineteenth century; he was even tied to the Revolution. At that time the company was small, dealing mainly with the wealthy merchants in New York. Their grandfather then took over the company and expanded it along the east coast, which was a great feat. Afterwards, their father ran the company until he passed it down to his older son, Charles, Ronald's brother, and became a New York senator. Charles ran the family business, adding greater wealth and acquisitions to the company all over the world, and in less than a few years too. Then he died. Ronald had a lot to live up to in his youth, and reportedly, his rich background allowed him to party and mix with the celebrity night life in New York. He did drugs, alcohol, fights—everything, anything—you name it, he did it."

Mitch was fascinated. "How did he turn directions, you know, and become runner up for the family business?"

"Supposedly, Charles had to straighten him out. By then, the family had about given up on Ronald; the AA wasn't working, the rehab was futile, even jail time was nothing to Ronald. Charles went down to the local police station one morning, after he found out his brother had been charged with his second DUI, bailed him out, and, as the story goes, begged his brother, on his knees, to change his ways. You see, Charles was about to get married, and he didn't want his wife to be embarrassed by their poor relation."

"And that's it?" Mitch was on tenterhooks. "He reformed his ways all because his brother begged him to be good?"

"Well apparently he hasn't changed his ways at all," Jack remarked snidely, "It seems to me that Ronald was only biding his time—now he's into larger scale crimes."

"Wow," Mitch breathed, "What were the chances that his brother would drop dead and hand him the entire SJ Corps Empire?"

"About zero to a million," Sloan answered; her face now intense. "Charles was as healthy as a horse. He was athletic, he was a nutritious nut, he had a balanced social life—really, he was quite good looking too, but…one day his wife tried to wake him up and…he just wouldn't. The autopsy said that he had cerebral aneurysm, which ruptured in the night, and left him brain dead in the morning. But for months on after his funeral, there were whispered stories that his wife had poisoned him."

"Ah, let me guess," Mitch said, intrigued, "She was a greedy, cheating gold digger who wanted her husband dead so she could get her millions and run off with her lover?"

Jack snorted derisively, leaning back in his computer chair. "Stick to your day job, Mitch, you'd make a terrible sleuth."

Sloan chortled too. "You couldn't be more wrong, Mitch."

"Hey, I'm just a regular cameraman—you two are the ones who do all the research, remember?" Mitch held up his hands in his defense.

"Charles and Serenity were passionately in love, and as you know had a daughter, Serena. A few months after Charles' death, Serenity followed. Suicide. At least that's what the police report says. Unable to bear the loss of her husband any longer, Serenity overdosed on some medication her doctor had given her to help her depression."

"This sounds like a real-life Shakespearean tragedy, I tell you," Mitch moaned.

"It gets worse," Jack continued. "Serena St. James goes missing. After years of searching, all possible leads coming up to nothing, she is pronounced dead."

"Whoa," Mitch sighed heavily, "All those deaths within such a short amount of time. What a coincidence."

"Oh, you think so?" Sloan raised an inquisitive brow. "It seems that's what someone, whoever is trying to cover up the tracks, wants us to believe."

Jack nodded, and then straightened in his chair. "That's exactly my—" Suddenly it clicked in Jacks head. Of course! He mentally kicked himself; it was that obvious!

"It's Ronald St. James," Jack deduced, his face becoming as white as a ghost. "He's behind all the murders! And now he's starting it all over again; he's the one behind the attempted murder of Tsukino Usagi! It makes sense. Why is he going after Tsukino Usagi? Because she's his missing niece! She's Serena St. James!"

"Exactly," Sloan nodded enthusiastically, bouncing in her seat excitedly. "That's exactly what I came here to tell you!" She was clapping her hands ecstatically.

Jack bounded from his seat from behind the desk and walked over to Sloan. He pulled her to her feet, and she, willingly, let him wrap his arms around her, lifting her up and spun her around the room. She laughed. They celebrated their break through.

"Have I told you how glad I am to see you?" Jack said to her fiercely, with great emotion.

"No," Sloan squealed as he set her down. "But I sure do like the sound of it."

In the midst of their happy cheer, a soft cough drew their attention. Sloan and Jack turned towards Mitch. He didn't look like he wanted to join in their enthusiasm.

"Look," Mitch said; his tone doubtful, "I don't want to rain on your guys' parade, but…your deductions are absolutely ludicrous. We have no evidence, none at all, to support your claims. I mean, I understand what you guys are saying. It does make sense. But to someone else, let's say the police, we have absolutely no case! I think it only makes sense to us because we're looking for answers, trying so hard to find truth, in where there isn't any!"

"In other words, you're saying, everything we've just summed up is an illusion we've created to pacify our hunger to solve the Tsukino case," Jack summarized scathingly; he folded his arms across his chest. The expression he gave Mitch was unnerving, but his partner didn't back down.

Mitch nodded. "How do you connect one event in Japan, with three others, which happened almost a decade ago, in America? How do you claim an American heiress, who's gone missing almost ten years ago, is still alive, and is now a Japanese citizen under a new identity?"

"Do you see how preposterous that sounds?" Mitch implored them to see the truth of his arguments.

Neither Jack nor Sloan were impressed.

"Well then, how do you explain that Tsukino and St. James look so strikingly similar?" Jack demanded.

"I don't know, Jack," Mitch said with grim humor, shaking his head. "I really don't know."

Just then a cell phone went off. All three of them reached for their pockets to check if it was theirs. Sloan smiled sheepishly as she pulled hers out; vibrating and flashing in her hand.

"Hello?"

Her eyes flashed.

"Yes. Are you sure?" She slightly shifted in her seat as she noticed the quizzical expressions in both Mitch and Jacks eyes as she continued to talk into the phone.

"What source did you get this from?" Immediately she was skeptical.

"Okay. Great. Thanks."

As soon as she got off the phone, she turned sparkling mischievous eyes on the two men watching her.

"Guys…" she cooed in a sing-song voice, "If it's evidence you want, its evidence we'll get."

"Okay what is it now?" Mitch took the bait.

"Nine O'clock reservations for six at the Moonlight night club in central downtown Tokyo. Tsukino Usagi's bachelorette party," she added the last part in an offhanded way.

"Cheers!"

The clinking of crystal champagne glasses was drowned by the heavy bass of the music blasting from the club sound system. Happy giggles slipped from lips loosened by the consumption of alcohol; not one girl of the party of six seemed to be worried about the increasing commotion coming from below them on the crowded dance floor. Instead, six merry faces, red with excitement and the ten shots of the expensive imported liquor, gleaming with a sheen of sweat from the muggy atmosphere of the club, were in complete oblivion to everything but the bride-to-be dancing atop their table in five inch stiletto heels.

"Oh, my gosh, Serena you're crazy!" Mina exclaimed; her tone was definitely not disapproving as she watched her leggy, blonde friend sway above them.

"Come on, get up here, I know you all want to," Serena shouted above the music; her suggestive smile was all too persuasive.

Not even within a minute of her invitation, Mina, Lita, Amy, Rei and Molly were up dancing beside her on the glass table. It was definitely going to be a bachelorette party to remember—that was "if" they remembered.

Night clubs were nothing new to Serena. In her early teen years, she had given in to partying with fake IDs, and over time her thirst for the night life had been quenched. As she got older, she wasn't into the same reckless entertainment she indulged in as a fifteen/sixteen year old. No more nights out on the town looking for trouble—a fight, anything she could take out her anger and frustration on. It had been a while since she could remember going out like this—just her and some girls looking for fun. She sure wouldn't miss it.

It was weird. Dancing had always been a type of escape for her—away from her parents, away from her peers, away from her work, and away from her not-too-certain-future. It took her to unparalleled heights, in which she couldn't get from drugs or alcohol, and she loved it. This was her freedom. But something changed.

She changed.

It was becoming clearer to her as the night drew on. Sure, she was having a blast, but for some reason, Serena felt as though she'd rather be somewhere else. She'd rather be with someone else. Darien. Her mind drew up a vivid picture of him. His slanted wayward smile made her heart race. This was crazy. He wasn't even there and yet the mere thought of him could make her knees go weak.

Yes, Darien was the reason for her change. He brought to her stability. He filled the empty void she had, unconsciously, always been trying to fill. He was now her escape from a pain-filled world. She didn't need this anymore. Never. She would never be returning to her old ways—her rebellious youth.

What she wanted—no—what she need was Darien.

Serena almost laughed at that realization. My, oh my. He was becoming very important to her. And that, she decided, was not good at all. She was very close to being in love with him. Very, very close.

Just then she felt something hit her on the back of her head.

"What was that?" She reached out and touched the spot on her head where she had felt the contact.

The quick flashes of the strobe lights blinded her, and she reeled dizzily on the table top as she stopped dancing. It took only a few seconds before the other girls noticed that she was no longer moving to the music, and they too quickly stopped; their confusion evident on their faces. They looked around.

"What's wrong, Serena?" Lita asked; her eyes quickly scanned their private quarters; a large platform looming over the dance floor down below. She was quickly on the defensive with her hands clenched and ready for battle at her sides.

Serena shook her head. "Nothing life threatening, Lita," she assured her tall friend. Outside the club, they had been bombarded by paparazzi, and unprepared for their aggressiveness, Serena had been knocked over by an overexcited photographer. From that point on, Lita had immediately taken on the roll as bodyguard, and had not taken down her defenses.

Lita shot her an unconvinced glare and again scanned the second floor with her blazing emerald eyes.

Serena laced her fingers through her hair where she had felt something touch her. Nothing.

"Hey!" Molly all of a sudden exclaimed. Five curious eyes watched her as she bent down and grabbed a wad of paper from the table top. "What's this?" She handed it to Serena, who looked at the ball of crumpled paper with a mixture of skepticism and bewilderment.

With shaking hands she smoothed the paper out and stretched it open. "It's a note," she said as she studied the paper.

"What's it say?" Mina demanded, moving to look over Serena's shoulders. All the girls shuffled closer.

"I can't read it. It's too dark."

"Here." Amy took out her cell phone and held it over the paper. Everyone groaned as the bright light of the cell phone hit their eyes. The blue haired girl smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Dance with me?" Rei scoffed aloud, reading the note. "Look down. I'm wearing an 'I LOVE New York' sweatshirt—Ew," she peered over the railing searching for the person who threw the note. "Who the hell would dare to do something so desperate?"

Lita nodded her agreement. "Damn right," she continued in the same scathing voice as Rei. "People these days have no respect for other people's privacy."

Molly giggled and nodded too. Then she pointed to someone in the crowd below. "But he's pretty cute."

The heavy clunking of five pairs of high heels on glass thundered over the music as all the girls headed for the railing to see exactly who Molly was referring to.

"Oh, my gosh," Mina squealed excitedly, the only thing stopping her from falling to the dance floor was the metal bars, "He's a hottie. Definitely has the American-boy look to him—only more masculine."

"Well?" Mina turned expectantly to Serena, who stood flabbergasted beside her. "Are you gonna go down there and dance with him?"

Rei gasped in outrage, her hand gripping Mina's arm to pull her attention towards her. "You can't possibly mean to tell her to go down there and dance with that desperate prick, can you?"

Mina shrugged with a feigned air of innocence. "What? He is majorly good looking." When Rei continued to stare at her in disbelief, Mina sighed. "Come on, Rei. It's Serena's bachelorette party—the girl should be dancing with hot men."

"He threw a frickin' paper at her head, Mina!" Rei yelled in outrage.

"So, what?"

"So he can go jump off a—Serena? Serena, where are you going?" Rei shouted after her.

Serena threw them a bright smile over her shoulder. "If he's so desperate to dance with me, why not give him a chance?" With a careless shrug of her slim, exposed shoulders, she crossed the floor to the stairs and began the descent to the dance floor.

Molly stared in wide-eyed disbelief. "Is she crazy?"

"That question is still being debated," Lita answered.

Amy, who was watching Serena from the railing, motioned for the girls to join her with a wave of her hand. "You can make out her tiara," she pointed at the glittering pearl and diamond encrusted crown making its way in and out of the dancing bodies.

They all rushed over to watch.

"Darien, don't!"

Swinging his arm free of Malcolm's restraining grasp, Darien continued to stalk forward. Like a panther after its prey, he walked with unerring determination; the muscles in his shoulders tense, the unwavering glare of his blue eyes lethal.

"Guys, a little help here," Malcolm sighed harshly; exhausted by his failed attempts to waylay their dark haired friend. He looked at the four other men, who were lounging in their corner booth, contemplating the scene before them with amusement. "I'm not fucking around," Malcolm growled authoritatively. "Stop him before he ruins everything."

Annoyed dread flashed across Andrew, Nathan, Zachary and James' face as they shifted in their seats.

They weren't moving fast enough for Malcolm's like, and so he barked, "Now!"

As they filed on past him, they all shot him looks of indignation.

"Hey, it's not our fault, Malcolm," Andrew grumbled, "Who was it who suggested we do this in the first place? You were the one who said 'Yeah, we should sneak out and follow the girls secretly—just to see what they're doing'. Darien didn't want to go; he was perfectly fine staying in at the mansion, but you insisted. You poked and prodded until he agreed. Now this happens, and you're scared he might blow our cover—thanks man, this is going to be one hell of a night. You know how he'll be if we interfere."

"Shut up, Andrew," Malcolm retorted, his eyes scanning the crowded dance floor for a sign of their tall dark haired friend. When he saw no sign of him, he turned his attention back to Andrew. "It's either we get Darien mad, or Mina. You pick—which one will do more damage?"

Andrew cringed visibly; in the flashing strobe light he was quivering like the scared cat that he was. "If Mina finds out, Malcolm, I'm gonna have your balls for this."

"She won't find out if you stop Darien before he breaks the neck of that guy dancing with Serena."

"Ah, damn it," Andrew cursed as he maneuvered passed Malcolm into the sea of swaying bodies to look for Darien.

It was just a dance. It was just a harmless dance, he told himself. He had nearly convinced himself too, until he saw where the hands of Serena's dance partner were headed. Angled low against her waist, Darien watched as the kid's hands glided lower until they were nearly grasping Serena's buttocks through the thin layer of her black strapless dress.

Irrational anger rose in him like no fury he had ever felt before. And it turned into a blazing inferno burning out of control, engulfing him in the flames of jealousy. His eyes lowered to a dagger-like sharpness, his hands crumpled into tight fists; shaking with an uncontrollable rage.

He didn't know what was happening to him. He was usually a levelheaded guy. It was the way he was brought up: to show great restraint and endless patience. But as he stood there, watching another man touch his woman, his Serena—everything he had been taught went quickly out the window. He felt like one of those monsters in movies they showed on TV, where a calm, rational, normal guy would all of a sudden transform into an ugly, powerful beast when unable to control overwhelming anger. That was exactly what he was becoming: an angry, jealous beast. Or husband—whichever one was worst.

Did he just call Serena 'his' Serena, too? Really, what was happening to him? She was in no way 'his' and he definitely did not deserve her. He couldn't help it though. A marriage in name only was going to kill him. Maybe he just had a protective urge to defend her from lustful guys because she had come to be like a sister to him?

Images of him thrusting his tongue into her mouth to taste her savory sweetness quickly banished all thoughts of his, supposed, brotherly love for Serena. Okay, so he found Serena attractive—a vast understatement, he knew. He was sure his eyes had never seen anything more beautiful than her tonight. In a satin black, bubble dress, her long slender legs were accentuated by the puffy folds of her skirt, and her creamy, perfect skin glowed irresistibly against the dark fabric. Like an enchanting Queen of the Night, with her "Bride" tiara (which he had personally made sure each pearl and diamond placed into the design were the finest) sitting atop her regal golden head, he couldn't have felt more proud at the sight of her, for she was going to be his.

Ah hell, they had agreed to a marriage in name only. He had no right to be jealous, or to feel angry. But he couldn't help it. Seeing her being so intimate with another man was driving him crazy. He couldn't let this go any farther.

Darien took a step towards the dancing couple.

"Hold it right there, my friend," Zachary's amused voice halted him. "I suggest you think before you do anything you regret."

In a matter of seconds he was surrounded on all sides by his friends. Their expressions were somber; their stances solid, as though ready to do battle. Darien was not at all deterred.

"Get out of my way," Darien ordered; he looked murderous.

They shook their heads.

James was the first to speak, "This is her bachelorette party, Darien," he reasoned, "What did you expect—a tea party and cucumber sandwiches?"

"Maybe," Darien bit out through clenched teeth.

"Well that's not what happens at one of these things; so understand that whatever she does tonight is just innocent fun and step back and watch."

"That's out of the question."

"You're being extremely possessive," Malcolm drawled.

"So what if I am? I can't just sit back and watch while some teenage boy thinks he can grope my fiancé."

"Hey, at least she's not so drunk that she's slipped off to a hotel with him for a night of fucking." Andrew shrugged, trying to pacify Darien's anger.

Five pairs of eyes leveled on Andrew darkly.

"Sorry," Andrew immediately apologized.

"Just let it go, Darien," Malcolm pleaded.

"Fine," Darien relented, but he was far from letting it go just yet. "I won't do anything to hurt the guy, okay?" Shrugging off the vile jealous beast that had come to possess him, he made an about turn and began walking in the opposite direction.

Suspicious, Malcolm cocked his head in Darien's direction as a signal to follow their dark haired friend.

"Are you sure you'll be fine?" James asked as they all slipped back into their booth in the corner.

Darien was already there, sipping his cocktail. "I think I've got everything under control now."

"Whew," Malcolm breathed in relief, "Look, Darien I'm sorry for dragging you out to this."

"Don't worry about it, I overreacted," he said with another sip of his drink. Setting down his cup he began to excuse himself. "I'm going to the restroom."

Malcolm eyed him cautiously as he disappeared down the crowed hall into the lobby. He knew that cool civility. He knew that thin-lipped, humorless smile. Darien had tremendous self-control, but there was no doubt in Malcolm's mind that whenever Darien became uncannily calm and docile, it was all a façade to hide his real burgeoning fury.

"Follow him," Malcolm ordered.

Andrew stood and prepared to pursue.

As soon as Darien rounded the corner into the lobby, his eyes scanned for a place to hide. There was no doubt in his mind that at least one of the guys would follow him to make sure he didn't get into any trouble. Seeing no secure hiding places, he threw himself against the wall, oblivious to the curious stares the night clubbers were giving him. Andrew came wheeling around the corner just as Darien had suspected. And as his blonde friend headed straight for the men's restroom, Darien lunged away from the wall and quickly strode towards the entrance on the opposite side of the lobby to the dance floor.

In his haste, he nearly stumbled over his own two feet when from out of the corners of his eyes he saw two dummies dressed up as a couple from the eighteen century European society: a woman dressed in a full length white gown and a man adorning a white mask and a tuxedo.

Immediately an idea began to formulate in his head.

Darien snatched the jewel-crusted mask and slipped it on.

"Let go of her."

Serena tensed at the masculine voice. The accented Japanese sounded funny to her, but strangely relieving as well. Turning around she almost rammed nose first into the man wearing the "I Love New York" T-shirt.

"Oh," she gasped in surprise, at the same time feeling the greedy hands of the teenager, who had jumped in front of her and began dancing up against her, pulling her back.

"I don't think she wants to dance with you." The American man scowled disapprovingly. And Serena smiled, relieved, as he reached out and placed a firm hand on her arm, drawing her away from the teen.

"Hey, I saw her first!" The kid insisted angrily.

"Don't make me call for security," the tall American stranger threatened.

With defeated anger, the teenager heaved his chest in great display and then turned away without another word.

"Thanks," Serena sighed. She finally was able to smile easily as she shifted her gaze from his pale throat to his handsome face. "My name's Usagi."

Jack was mesmerized by her lovely sparkling eyes. "Jack," he replied; strangely aware of how close she was pressed up against him.

"Hi Jack," Serena greeted, her smile now teasing. "I believe you wanted to dance with me."

Her good humor proved infectious; Jack laughed. "I believe you're right," he said; sliding his hands down her smooth arms. He planned to let her go, but was surprised when she snatched his hands in hers and pulled him close.

"Let's go," she beckoned him with her bright eyes, cocking her head towards the dense crowd.

"In there?" He teased; unable to focus his mind. He was supposed to be getting information from her. "It looks dangerous."

"Out here then?" She replied, and before he could answer, she raised his hands in the air, twirled around and had effectively wrapped his arms around her slim upper body. Her hips swayed back and forth to the music, and with her back to his chest, Jack fitted his body to her buttocks and swayed with her.

"How old are you Jack?" She asked. He could barely hear her above the pounding music.

"Twenty-five."

"Do you live in Japan?"

"Yes."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a writer."

"Oh really?" Her curiosity was piqued. "Do you write poetry and stories?"

Jack vaguely was aware that instead of him asking her the questions, she was doing the interrogation. Irritated with himself for falling so quickly to her charms, he thought to distract her as he trailed a finger along the curve of her neck down her shoulder to her arm.

"Sometimes," he answered, "Most of the time I like to write about people."

Imperceptibly, he felt her shift away from him. "Is something wrong?"

She spun around in his arms and placed her hands on his chest; her smile captivating. "Oh no," she replied, a hint of laughter in her eyes. "I'm ticklish, you see, and when you touched my neck I kind of—" She broke off her explanation and laughed to prove her point.

Jack felt like a total invalid—he couldn't do anything right in her presence. What he had hoped she would find sexy and seductive, she found funny and unpleasant. He usually considered himself a lady's man, but Usagi appeared to be immune to his charms.

"Sorry," he uttered dumbly. They danced in silence for a while; he was gathering all his wits to face her, and to shield his sanity from her distracting face.

"How about you?" He inquired. "Have you always lived in Japan?"

She tensed slightly in his arms. Bingo, he thought.

"Excuse me?" Serena asked; her voice shook a little.

Jack repeated his question.

"Yes, I have," she lied.

Disappointed, but knowing that he could not know if she was telling him the whole truth, he persisted. "Oh really? Are your parent's Caucasian? You don't look Japanese."

She stopped dancing, and he felt slightly squeamish under her intense, discouraging gaze.

"My parents are both Japanese; why do you ask?"

"Er—Just wondering. You have an exotic beauty to your facial features," he lied lamely.

"Oh," she murmured, "Thank you."

"Have you ever been to the States?"

"No," she answered. "But I would love to visit someday. Are you from New York?" She asked looking down at his grey sweatshirt.

How odd, she thought, but didn't question his choice of clothes.

"Um, yes, I am. Great city, it is. Similar to Tokyo."

"Yes, I would imagine so," Serena agreed.

Their conversation was heading nowhere, Jack realized in despair. She was evading all his questions—or was she? Maybe Mitch had been right. Maybe there was no connection between St. James and Tsukino—maybe it was all wishful thinking on his part.

No.

There wasn't something convincing in Usagi's answers. She seemed to tense and pull away mentally from his prodding questions.

"I once knew a girl who looked like you in New York."

Serena nearly stopped breathing when she heard his words. A girl who looked like her? In New York? No, she gave herself a mental shake, it couldn't be. He couldn't have known her when she was living in New York. And she didn't look the same anymore; he couldn't have guessed that she was that girl in New York by just looking at her.

Her heart raced.

"Excuse me?"

Jack felt as though he had just struck gold. Her face turned ghostly white.

"Her name was Serena, Serena St. James."

No air. She could not breathe. Drowning. She was all of a sudden ten thousand leagues beneath the sea, with the pressure crushing her lungs, impairing her thought. No air.

"My name is Serena." Her voice was a faint whisper. "How did you know?" She was shaking; the spasms taking control of her body. They had stopped dancing, and were standing like statues in the middle of the crowded dance floor.

"How did you know that was my name?" Serena demanded. She was becoming hysterical. All she could process in her head was: He knew. He knew her! He was from New York and he said he knew someone who looked like her! Didn't her mom say that they had adopted her from New York? Didn't her mom say that the orphanage had said that her name was Serena?

This man knew her! Somehow, someway, he knew her!

Jack stared very levelly at her; trying to discern her frantic change of disposition. "Okay, look," he began to clarify, "I'm currently researching into the disappearance of Serena St. James, and I think that you could be her, Usagi Tsukino; you can be the missing heiress."

"You're crazy," she let out a horrified gasp.

"Please, listen to me," Jack beseeched desperately, reaching out a hand to stop her from running away, which was what she was slowly preparing to do. "I have reasonable clues that suggest you are Serena St. James. All I want is your cooperation—your answers may corroborate my theory, and you can find out about your past. Don't you want to know?" His eyes narrowed as he watched the fear flash in her eyes. "Or are you hiding something? Are you Serena? Are you the St. James heiress?"

She was speechless. "I…I don't—"

"Can I cut in?"

Serena and Jack jumped; startled by the tall masked man who materialized in front of them.

"We are in the middle of a discussion—"

"Yes," Serena consented. She didn't dare look to see how Jack reacted. "Yes, you can."

She felt strong warm hands wrap around her shoulders, and before she knew it she was being pulled into the wild throng in the center of the dance floor.

"Is something the matter?"

Lifting her gaze from the buttons of his shirt, Serena studied the tanned column of the man's throat, to his familiarly square cut jaw, and beautiful face. Her cheeks immediately began to fill with blood again as she flushed. And air came back to her as easily as the pretty color on her face.

"Darien," she breathed in amazement.

"It seems I came a little too late to save you." He was referring to the teenage boy who had been dancing with her earlier

The gruffness in his voice made her smile. "You were spying on me," she accused with a grin of pleasure. Her feet were coming back down to earth; the earlier fear and hysteria that gripped her just a few moments ago disappeared. And it was all because of Darien. He had a way about him that she found calming—as though she knew that so long as he was near, everything would be all right.

"If I'd known you'd be so happy to see me spoil your bachelorette party, I would have done it sooner," Darien remarked dryly; but he could not help the grin that pulled his lips too as he saw the overwhelming look of joy in her eyes as she stared up at him.

"I missed you tonight," she whispered, wrapping her arms tightly around him and burying her head into his warm chest. She inhaled, and decided that his scent was the best tranquilizer ever. And boy did he smell good.

Taken aback by her honesty, and the raw fervor in her voice, Darien crushed her tightly to his hard length and sighed contentedly into her hair. "I missed you too, sweetheart."

"Darien?"

"Hmm?"

"Take me home."

"What?"

"Take me home, please," she repeated; this time she as she did so she touched her lips to the base of his throat and kissed him there.

He trembled. Damn, if ever she knew the power she had over him, she'd have him tied around her little finger.

"What about the rest of the girls?"

"Oh, don't worry," she assured him, running her lips back and forth across his skin; sending delicious shivers down through his body. "They're watching us now as we speak."

Somewhat startled by that fact, Darien's grip on her loosened.

She clung to him for her dear life.

"I should have known," he growled.

"Let's go please?" She tilted her head backwards to look at him.

The expression in her eyes was so utterly consuming, Darien couldn't help the overwhelming urge that seized him to touch her, kiss her, and possess her. With a steady hand he cradled her smooth cheek in his palm and ran his thumb teasingly over her bottom lip. She felt like silk to his touch—so soft.

She met his lips half way and answered his groan of desire with her own hungry moan.

It took all of his restraint to pull his lips away from hers. They were in a public place, he reminded himself; but it didn't do him any good. It didn't ease the ache, dull the craving that still enflamed his senses. Only she could feed his desire. Through hooded eyes he lazily contemplated her lush, full lips—remembering the sweet flavor in his mouth—and the consequences of kissing her again.

He decided to hell with everyone watching. Serena's gasp of surprise pleasure was muffled by Darien's hard, consuming kiss.

"Where are you taking me?" Serena asked into his back. She was sitting behind him on his motorcycle; the night air cold against her hot skin. She clung tighter to him as he accelerated through the intersection.

"You said you wanted to go home," he replied. He couldn't help but smile as she snuggled closer to him. He wasn't sure if she realized that she was always trying to attach herself to him, but he wasn't going to say anything if it was going to drive her away.

"Not my home, silly," she laughed against him, and he could feel the warmth of her breath through his shirt. "Your home. Take me home with you."

Tenderness swelled in his chest until it became painful. He couldn't believe what she was requesting. "You want to come home with me?"

He felt her nod her head against him.

"I want to fall asleep in your arms tonight, Darien."

A tightness in his throat restrained him from answering, but Serena knew he heard her. At the next traffic signal he made a U turn and speeded away towards the mansion.

"Darien?"

"Hmm."

"Thank you for saving me." She was referring to Jack's distressing news.

The drafty night breeze picked up, and as it blew against them, the mask Darien had been wearing loosened, and drifted off into the night air.

End Note: Okay...Please tell me what you think. Review!