Illustration Credit: in-progress by Miyuki-Tsukiyono on DeviantArt

Chapter 17: Take it or Leave it

Morning came before Seto could figure out if he'd slept or not. He found the sheets beside him empty and panic shot him to his feet. He yanked on briefs and opened the bedroom door.

Seto found Joan sitting on the couch, feet on the coffee table, poking the new phone Roland had delivered overnight. Her cleavage peeked out of the same navy blue floral dress Seto had first seen her in.

Joan looked up with a casual, genuine smile. "Heeey!"

Seto's staff had logged and reported all the death threats and blocked the senders, leaving Joan only a few congratulatory messages from fellow whores. The other whores had even given her several tips on how to get him off. Though she'd already figured out most of them on her first night with Seto, she appreciated the solidarity.

Seto stood transfixed for a moment, her relaxed demeanor so different from how he'd seen her last night, so at ease, so wifelike. Seto remembered that she was a wife, not his wife, but a wife nonetheless. He let himself pretend for a moment and warmth poured into his smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Kaiba." Seto whirled around to see a woman in a stark black suit and natural blond hair pulled into a neat bun. "I'm Tamara, Joan's new bodyguard. Roland hired me last night."

Seto circled Tamara and appraised her slender form. "What makes a little Girl Scout like you qualified?"

Tamara displayed no offense at the remark. "I was a Girl Scout over a decade ago, but these days I train at Marc's dojo. I beat him in fights all the time. I was between jobs and Roland asked Marc if he knew anybody. Roland said a male guard would—"

"Spare me your life story. I'm not paying you to talk, though if you'd like to use that pretty mouth in other ways, we could work out at deal." Seto watched Joan for a reaction, but only a tiny smirk curled her lips. Damn it whore, could you at least pretend to be jealous?

"I'll pass," Tamara said.

Seto turned on his heel and stalked into the bathroom to shower.

"Is he always like that?" Tamara asked Joan.

"Consider yourself lucky." Joan went back to poking her phone. Strange. Her friend requests had dropped to zero. Not that she had time for new friends anyway, but still . . . it seemed a step too far. Joan glanced up at Tamara. Roland's doing. Roland had a knack for acting in Seto's best interest. He may not have dismissed the friend requests himself, but he'd probably sent detailed instructions with her login information to someone in Japan.

Seto stomped back in wearing a collection of belts with silver buckles and his studded white trench coat. "Whore, you're staying by my side today."

Joan continued casually tapping her phone. "You realize my fee is for the evening, right? Day will cost you extra."

"Does it look like I give a fuck? Roland, see to it that she gets paid."

"Yes, sir." Despite the exhaustion, Roland had woken and prepared to serve as usual.

Joan stood and slung her purse over a shoulder, slipping her phone inside. She walked up to Seto and kissed him to seal the deal. His demeanor softened a little as he felt her warmth.

They set off arm-in-arm as before, down the elevator and into the banquet hall. A few eyes followed them, but no snide comments erupted. Once their plates were full, Seto picked an empty table. A few executives from small game companies joined them and rambled while Seto looked bored.

Joan played along as arm candy until the CEO of Hentaistic said, "We're trying to make more porn games for women and, after all the buzz we've been hearing on social media, we're starting to think we should license Seto Kaiba's image."

Joan burst out giggling.

"Whore," Seto growled, "what's so funny?"

Joan caught her breath and tried to think of a delicate way to phrase Seto's shortcomings before opting to address a different issue entirely. "The only artist who can portray Seto properly is Marc Aurelio, and there's no WAY you could afford his salary."

His ego properly stroked, Seto said, "The whore's right."

The Hentaistic CEO's face fell.

Joan dug a mother of pearl business card case out of her purse. "If it's any consolation, I could provide you with some assistance for your other projects." She held one card out to the Hentaistic CEO.

Seto snatched the card out of her hand and examined it. Lead Editor. For some small press he'd never heard of. The card had a phone number and email address but no physical address. A list of book titles and authors crowded the back. Questions bombarded his mind. Was whoring her side job, or did she perform both jobs equally? Was she seeking new clientele only for editing or for all her services? Either way, filling her schedule with additional work would mean less time for him.

Joan slipped another card out of her case and found more hands reaching. She passed them around the table.

"So that whore thing . . . that really is just a joke?" someone asked.

"Entirely," Seto cut in before Joan could answer for herself. "So don't get any ideas."

Joan stood. "Excuse us." This time, she pulled Seto away from the table, albeit more gently than he had pulled her away from Duke. She led him outside the banquet hall to an alcove window looking out upon the bay. Roland and Tamara stared down passers-by, silently bidding them to keep walking rather than gawking. "Seto, we never discussed an exclusive contract. I don't even know if I'll have my editing job after you go back to Japan. I need to keep my options open."

Seto couldn't lose her. He didn't know where yet, but after seeing that job title, he was certain he could find a position for her. "Come work for Kaiba Corp."

"Fuck no. I hate big offices."

Her resolve shocked him. Nobody had ever turned down a position at Kaiba Corp. without a better offer from a rival company such as Industrial Illusions. "Name your salary," he said, not ready to believe it.

"I said no. I work from home and I like calling my own shots. If, and that's if, I lose my editing job, I'd much rather freelance than have to deal with bitches around the water cooler."

Seto thought fast. "It won't be like that. You'll be in my office, with a private water cooler."

She'd already been through this with her husband Michael before they'd moved their desks to separate rooms. The dynamic between them caused too much distraction. "Nice try. We'll get sick of each other within a month that way. Even if we don't, just wait until your secretary gets jealous and poisons my coffee. Besides, I'm sure as hell not leaving Marc and Michael behind."

They stared at each other, arms crossed, at an impasse. If only Seto could make Joan forget about everything that tied her to this place.

Seto grabbed Joan and kissed her. Joan let it happen. He had paid for her time today. He could use it how he wanted. He could believe what he wanted to believe about her as long as it didn't affect her time off the clock.

Joan felt an ache throbbing through the kiss. Seto couldn't accept her false surrender. Nothing had been settled.

Seto broke the kiss but held on to the back of her head. Their foreheads touching, he spoke low so only she could hear. "Whore, I need you."

Goosebumps shot down Joan's arms. Seto needed the real her, not the one that bent to his demands. As long as Seto got what he needed, she could have what she wanted. "OK, but you've got to cut this possessive shit."

Possessive shit. Seto had said the same thing to a whore in Japan not too long ago. Shame crept into his features.

Joan continued, "If you fly me to Japan two nights a week, I won't need to seek new clients, but you still have to accept everyone I'm already with. Michael. Marc. Mokuba. Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it." Seto wrapped his arms around Joan and held her. Just held her.

Tamara cleared her throat. "Hey, does this mean I get to go to Japan too?"

"Only if you can keep your trap shut," Seto snarled.

"Give her a break. It's her first day. But seriously," Joan turned to Tamara, "try not to interrupt when we're having a moment."

Joan realized as the words fell from her lips that the moment had stirred something in her. They still had a lot to work out, but the tension had dissipated. Joan interlaced her fingers with Seto's as they moved on to the next Summit activity.