Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Odalisque ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.

 

 

 

Odalisque

 

Chapter 4

 

Rukia waited for the shock to fade from the insufferable man's face before she congratulated herself on her crafty use of his full name. His face, of course, looked even more hilarious than it had earlier this morning. Was that… ha! She couldn't believe it! His eyebrows were still furrowed even when he was surprised! Damn that's priceless.

 

Rukia had to smother a laugh when his once-confident stride faltered to a slow halt. He stared at her for a few moments before continuing into the room. His eyes were glued onto her person but occasionally looking over towards his boss.

 

And what a creepy boss he is, Rukia thought as she shuddered inwardly. The man had a face like a fucking snake. His mouth was curved into a freakishly strange smile and his eyes were pulled on his face until they were barely open. But it was his voice that was the worst, it was smooth and slick and far too deep for a man of his sickly complexion. When Rukia was first saw him—and when she first shook his hand—she immediately wished she could be away from him. Chills simply went up her spine when she was near him… and she hadn't even known him for thirty minutes! Either way, she had to remind herself that she was a Kuchiki, and Kuchiki's did not quake in the presence of stranger men with snake faces.

 

“Mr. Ichimaru,” Kurosaki said slowly as he came further into the room. Rukia jerked herself out of her small reverie and turned her attention back to the man she would be working with. He was giving his boss a strange glare that wasn't hostile but wasn't friendly either.

 

Serves you right… bastard. Rukia thought ruefully.

 

“I'm sorry but I thought this would be a meeting between the two of us.” He said as he came forward and shook his superior's hand. Rukia waited calmly in his seat as he turned to her and offered a hand, a terse jaw, and a glare. “Hello, I don't believe we've properly met.” She could practically hear his teeth grinding together. “You are?”

 

“Surprised,” Rukia offered with a smile, “That you would be so late, Mr. Kurosaki.” She saw his eyes turn into slits and could practically feel her skin being pierced with the daggers he was shooting out of them. She decided to twist the knife in his back even further. “I mean, you were in such a hurry this morning.”

 

“Yes well…” he trailed off and kept his hands stiffly at his side. Rukia simply couldn't help the self-satisfied smirk that had screwed itself onto her face. “We all have our places to be.”

 

“Except you, apparently,” Rukia shot back, “Because I believe this meeting began at eleven.”

 

“Which I apologized for.”

 

“Once.”

 

“How many times is appropriate, miss?”

 

“I'd say about three.”

 

“You must be drea—”

 

“Excuse me.”

 

Rukia's head turned at the sound of Gin Ichimaru's slick voice. She blinked once and quickly realized that she had been acting like a three-year-old. She gave a swift glance to Ichigo Kurosaki—who had a livid look on his face—and fought the urge to slap herself.

 

That argument could have cost her the account! Her career could have been put on the line because of this insolent man and her childish attempt to get back at him. Well, it wasn't that he didn't deserve it, it was more or less that she had allowed her dislike for him to cloud her objectives.

 

Never again. She silently vowed. This man would not make her do anything like that before a superior ever again. Maybe if they were alone… but most certainly never before her boss.

 

Oh hell, she grumbled, he's not just my boss… he's my new boss. Damn it.

 

“I apologize,” Rukia said curtly, then added for Kurosaki's benefit, “Mr. Ichimaru. I do not know what came over me.”

 

“I bet I do you conniving little—”

 

“Mr. Kurosaki,” Ichimaru said quietly, “Please, a little restraint.”

 

“Whatever.” Kurosaki mumbled, sitting in a chair only three feet from her.

 

Rukia ruefully wondered if the man beside her acted like a pompous ass all the time. He seemed to be taking a great deal of liberties when it came to addressing his boss as well as ladies—if she could even call herself a lady—so formerly. Nevertheless, this move was crucial to her career, she would be delusional not to reach out and take it at the soonest possible time. Kurosaki was just a fringe annoyance.

 

“So,” said man grunted, “What am I doing here Mr. Ichimaru?” He jerked a thumb in his direction. “And what's she doing here, for that matter?”

“I presume you know Ms. Kuchiki?” Ichimaru grinned.

 

Rukia glanced over at Ichigo Kurosaki's face and saw his mask of irritation slip off just a bit and give way to the shock of surprise. She knew what was going through his head. Yes, she thought smugly, Kuchiki, that's my name you pretentious bastard. Chew on that for a while before you decide to call me `kid' again.

 

“Kuchiki?” Kurosaki asked and Rukia told herself not to grin foolishly. “As in… Byakuya Kuchiki? The business mogul over in Tokyo? Doesn't he have dibs on the biggest defense contract ever formulated?” He gave a quick up-and-down glance to Rukia. “Isn't he over six feet tall as well?” He added nastily and Rukia immediately seethed at the veiled insult over her height.

 

“That's right.” Ichimaru said smoothly, Rukia forced herself to look at him even though she would have rather turned completely away. “This is his sister, Ms. Rukia Kuchiki.”

 

Kurosaki turned towards her and sneered, “Well I would say I'm pleased to meet you but considering the circumstances—” his eyes veered down to her blouse and his eyes narrowed just a bit. Normally, Rukia would either be furious or not care if a man looked so openly at her chest the way Kurosaki was doing now. Depending on her mood she would either be exceedingly offended—seeing as how those sexist pigs liked to look at her as though she were just another piece of meat. Or, if she were in a relatively good mood, she just wouldn't care—there wasn't much to look at down there anyway. This was the only rare occasion where she didn't feel anything except smugness. Kurosaki's angry expression completely gave away his irritation that she was wearing a clean and crisp shirt while he—she took a quick glance—was still donning a coffee stained vestment.

 

His eyes darkened and Rukia allowed a spiteful smirk to slide onto her lips. He practically snarled at her as he turned back to his boss. The man had observed the occurrence with interested eyes but had not said a word.

 

“Ready to listen, Kurosaki?” He asked and nodded begrudgingly.

 

“Good.” He turned to Rukia and she tried not to wince, “Ms. Kuchiki, I assume you've been briefed on what this company intends to do with Gotei Corp.?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Ukitake informed me this morning.”

 

“Good,” he said and turned to Kurosaki. “Ichigo, Suigetsu Inc. and Gotei Corp. are merging to better our profit margins.”

 

“Whatever.” Ichigo answered, his tone suggested he was bored and Rukia wanted to slap him for not taking this more seriously. Honestly… her reaction had been much more dramatic. “So tell me what she's doing here.” He jabbed his thumb at Rukia.

 

“Oh how well you two get along,” Ichimaru grinned sickeningly. He steepled his fingers and pressed them against his snake-like lips. “This should be perfect.”

 

Kurosaki's eyes narrowed and Rukia's eyes slid over to his face. She wanted to see his reaction when he heard what was going to happen.

 

“What should be perfect?” He demanded and Rukia fought another grin. Oh why did his pain make her smile?

 

Ichimaru slid forward on his sleek metallic desk and grinned just a bit. “We want this merger to go slowly—both companies that is—the higher ups have decided that our best corporate lawyer and their best corporate lawyer,” he stopped for a moment and indicated to Rukia, “Should work together until the merger is complete.”

 

Rukia grinned secretively at Ichigo's devilishly narrowed eyes, his slightly slacked jaw, and his inflamed nostrils. She could have snickered if she hadn't been so painfully aware of her own situation. She had to work with this louse just as much as he had to work with her. It wasn't going to be any pleasanter for her than it was for him.

 

Stay level headed here Rukia, she reminded herself ruefully, I need to handle this professionally… even if this dunce doesn't.

 

“I have to work with her?” He stressed, his teeth clenching painfully.

 

Ichimaru nodded and Rukia turned her head lightly to the side, analyzing the contents of his office. It was sparse—there was barely any furniture other than three chairs and a desk. There were no diplomas on his wall, like there were on her walls, and the only image on the otherwise spotless area was one of Mr. Ichimaru and an older man. Rukia studied the picture even more as she tried to figure out where she had seen the man before. He looked to be around his late to mid forties. He had soft brown hair and eyes rimmed in thick black glasses. He looked tall, well, built, and, well, he looked… kind. The way he was smiling made the threatening Gin Ichimaru beside him seem less foreboding. Rukia racked her brain to try and figure out where she had seen him before. Obviously he was important but she couldn't, for the life of her, remember his name.

 

“Are you sure it has to be me?” Kurosaki's gruff voice brought her back into the room.

 

She scowled and spoke for the first time since their quarrel. “Don't feel so jilted, I'm the one who has to come and share your office.”

 

“And that's supposed to make me feel better?”

 

“Yes,” she answered shortly. “This is a very desirable account. I intent to make it a top priority and do the best I can.” She sent him a hostile glare. “I should think you should do the same.”

 

“I didn't ask for this.” He said through gritted teeth.

 

“Neither did I.” Rukia pointed out.

 

“You two should get along splendidly.” Ichimaru chuckled sickly, clearly enjoying their distaste for one another. He turned to Rukia and she felt her insides churning. “I assume Ukitake gave you the ramifications?”

 

“He has.” Rukia said, masking her discomfort with an authoritative tone. “I'm to report here everyday and work on the files. I'll bring my laptop in order to work without making it cumbersome for Mr. Kurosaki and I'll give monthly reports to dictate our progress.”

 

“Excellent.” Ichimaru looked over at Kurosaki and saw him stewing silently in his seat.

 

Rukia stood and brushed her skirt off softly. “I'll go back to the office for today and make sure to tidy up my affairs before coming over here. I don't require much space.” The last comment was meant for Kurosaki but she told them both anyway. She extended her hand and gave it to Mr. Ichimaru. His skin was cold and wet and Rukia was reminded, once again, of a snake when she pulled away.

 

She didn't even bother to shake Kurosaki's hand and simply gave him a smirk before she exited the office and proceeded back to her building.

 

*~*~*

 

“Wow,” Momo said as she speared a piece of lettuce from her salad and plopped it in her mouth. “So the jerk-wad from this morning is going to be working with you for a while?”

 

“Yep,” Rukia muttered sourly, taking a bite out of her own leafy greens.

 

“That sucks.”

 

“How original Momo,” Rukia commented dryly and her friend shrugged in response.

 

“Well it does. I mean seriously, if the guy is rude enough to spill coffee on you and then not even bother to apologize then he's gotta be a first rate ass.”

 

“He is.” Rukia agreed, thinking about her meeting earlier with said jerk-wad and his creepy boss. “Rude, arrogant, and when his boss—who is another case entirely—told him about the merger all he said was `sure' and just kept on insulting me.” She darkly jabbed another piece of lettuce with her fork.

 

“Ass,” Momo muttered and Rukia nodded her head emphatically. “And you have to work over there?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What will I do?”

 

Rukia looked up into Momo's face and was warmed by the amount of concern in her face. Granted, Momo was probably more worried about her job than anything else but that didn't make the sentiment any less touching.

 

“Don't worry,” she answered breezily, “You'll be just fine. I'm going to keep in touch with you through email because there's not enough room for you to move to into the other building with me—although trust me, I'd like to, I got a glimpse of his office and he doesn't even have a secretary.” She chewed thoughtfully, “Although when I went around to his office I saw the floor secretary, she looked like a complete airhead.”

 

“Really?” Momo said, a small amount of pride evident in her tone.

 

Rukia nodded gravely, “She saw me going into that Kurosaki's office—which, by the way, is one of the biggest messes I've ever seen in my life. I'm going to need to create an entirely new filing system—”

 

“Why aren't they just on his computer?”

 

“I'm assuming they're paper back-ups but I checked the date on one that was thrown on his desk,” Rukia shuddered at the disorderliness, “It was from eight years ago.”

 

“Ouch.”

 

“Tell me about it.”

 

“So… what did this secretary do?” Momo asked, sipping her drink.

 

Rukia wrinkled her nose, “Nothing. She just stared at me, it was creepy. She just gave me this look like I was purposely invading her space or something.”

 

“Maybe she thinks you were there to see that Ichigo person for different reasons.” Momo suggested with a wiggle of her eyebrow.

 

“Ew.” Rukia snorted in a very unladylike fashion. “Trust me, there's nothing that particularly interesting about him. His personality's not the only thing that's ugly.”

 

Momo sucked in a breath through her teeth and winced. “How bad?”

 

Rukia squinted her eyes at the memory and began to recite. “Tall, and even though I came up to his collarbone, he carries himself like he's taller. He has these nice brown eyes but they're set on such a god-awful face! His eyebrows are scrunched up all the time, which, of course, makes him look like he's constantly constipated—literally, they don't unfurl for anything.”

 

“Even when he smiles?” Momo asked in horror.

 

“I wouldn't know,” was Rukia's dry response, “I haven't actually seen him smile… only smirk.”

 

“Are you kidding me?”

 

“No, I'm not. And on top of his head is this ungodly mop of hair. It looks like it belongs on a fifteen year old goth boy! It's all spiked and it's bright orange. Orange! No lie; it's the same color as the fruit.”

 

“Good god,” Momo giggled, “But then again, Toshiro has white hair and I think it looks so good on him.”

 

“Well…” Rukia muttered, “You're just weird that way.”

 

They lapsed into silence and continued munching on their salads. They were both sitting at Rukia's desk—with protective covers underneath their meals—and they had been going over any files that she might need on her trip over to Suigetsu Inc. Rukia sighed again when she thought about it. She really wanted this account but she hated the thought of going into that building, being around people she hardly knew, and working with an ass she didn't like.

 

Still, if she was brutally honest with herself, she barely knew anyone here either. She worked far too much to really bother socializing with the people around the office. The only few people she really knew were Momo and a couple of her bosses. She wrinkled her nose, pulled a piece of limp chicken from her salad and biting into it slowly. Maybe she would make some acquaintances over at Suigetsu Inc.

 

Rukia could have laughed at that thought. She knew that if her stigma as a Gotei Corp. employee didn't immediately dissuade them, her last name would.

 

Her brother, Byakuya Kuchiki, was not just a mere mogul. He was the mogul. He was the CEO of a company that was privy to one of the biggest defense contracts in the nation. It raked in billions of dollars each quarter and only selected electronics from some of the top sellers—Gotei Corp. and Suigetsu Inc. were two of them—to formulate their products. All of that, plus his cold public image, made her that much more susceptible to the scarlet letter that normally branded her upon introductions.

 

Still, it wasn't as though her brother had appointed her to her current position as top corporate attorney for Gotei Corp. He hadn't made some calls and given it to her. She had earned it all by herself. Her brother had done nothing but send money for Rukia's tuition and board. She did all of the work, went to all of the interviews, and worked without the aid of her brother to get where she was today.

 

Rukia sighed unhappily when she thought of her absent older brother. Hell, absent wasn't even the best word to describe it. He was gone. She hadn't even seen him since her sister's death eight years ago. The only contact they had over the years had been through birthday cards and the occasional sparse phone call, but other than that they didn't keep in touch. She and he were not the typical family now that her sister, his wife, was dead from a tremendously long battle with cancer.

 

“Rukia.”

 

Rukia's head snapped up and she blinked twice. Momo was smiling expectantly at her and Rukia chastised herself for going off into lala land while her friend was attempting to talk to her.

 

“I was wondering something,” Momo murmured. Rukia's interest was immediately piqued, normally, Momo wasn't ever this quiet. She leaned forward just a bit in case what her friend needed to tell her was deathly important.

 

“Toshiro's taking me to dinner next week.” She muttered shyly.

 

Rukia's interested face fell flat and she sat back in her chair with a small grunt. “Oh come on, he takes you out to dinner all the time.” Rukia went back to her grungy salad and picked out something lumpy that didn't look like it belonged.

 

“Not to the Silken Rose he doesn't.” Momo said quietly.

 

The lumpy thing in Rukia's hand dropped along with her jaw. Rouge spread over Momo's cheeks and she fitfully began to pick at a loose string on her skirt.

 

“Momo…” Rukia breathed, her face filled with shock and surprise, “Is—is Toshiro going to… propose?”

 

The blush spread down Momo's neck and she looked down to the side. “Well… you don't have to say it like that.”

 

Rukia blinked, “Like what?”

 

“Like it could never happen.”

 

Is that what I sounded like? Rukia thought. I hope not. She leaned forward and awkwardly put her hand on top of Momo's. “I didn't mean it like that.” She said softly, “You just surprised me is all.” She gave Momo a wary look. “Did he tell you he was taking you there?”

 

Wow, Rukia never knew that Momo's face could turn that color. Her face was now decorated an interesting shade of mottled purple.

 

“No…” she mumbled, “I… uh, I saw it in his… um… his date book.”

 

“Momo!” Rukia chastised.

 

“It was an accident!” She cried, lurching forward in her chair and taking Rukia's hand into a death grip. “I really didn't mean to!”

 

Rukia gave her a small glare, “Still…” she sighed and rolled her eyes, willing to forgive her friend for what she knew was most likely not the accident she claimed it to be. “But… do you really think…?”

 

Momo's face grew into a deep violet. “I—I don't know. I think—well, we've been going out for a while—”

 

“Six month,” Rukia reminded her.

 

Momo shrugged, “That is a while, isn't it?”

 

Rukia let her fork pick at her salad. “But is it enough, do you think? I mean, six months isn't a very long time.”

 

“I—I know,” Momo stammered, “But I… I really love him.” She ended the statement on a whisper, her eyes cast down, rosy rouge going all the way down to her neck.

 

Are you sure? Was the one question that was ringing inside of Rukia's head. She couldn't help thinking like that it. She had her own issues with love and relationships to deal with. She didn't want to ruin Momo's hope for her future life.

 

But honestly, when Momo first got together with Toshiro she had been skeptical—Momo had been through so many boyfriends that it barely seemed possible that this one would actually stick. But in the end he stuck with her friend and she stuck with him. Momo's `happy times' were increased tremendously when she was with him and Rukia could not help but support her friend as she made her rocky way through love. Hell, she could still remember the first time Momo and Toshiro had had sex.

 

Rukia frowned momentarily and told herself that such a memory was not, in fact, creepy for a best friend to have.

 

Momo had called her excitedly after Toshiro fell asleep—it was about twelve at night but Rukia was up anyway—and had practically cried on the phone at how great it had been and about how deeply she was in love with him. Rukia could only listen, smile, and try not to gag as Momo gave her a play-by-play of her recent fornication session.

 

That was another thing that made Momo such an… interesting friend. She had absolutely no reservations about discussing her sex life with Rukia. Hell, the woman even enjoyed telling her everything that she had done—with any of her boyfriends—any time she wanted to. In the beginning of their friendship Rukia had been disconcerted by her overt honesty but had eventually gotten used to it.

 

Still… marriage? Was Momo ready for something like that? Rukia had known her for almost eight years and she still wasn't sure if the young woman could handle it. She loved Toshiro, that much was painfully obvious, but was she ready to share a bathroom all the time, be in the same bed night after night, put up with all of his irritating quirks day in and day out? Could she do that?

 

“Momo…” Rukia murmured. She looked down at her plate and tried to modify what she was about to say so as not to hurt Momo's delicate feelings. She didn't want her own cynical views on the matter of marriage to ruin Momo's happy expectations. She pushed a limp piece of lettuce around with her fork and sighed. Her eyes looked up into Momo's reddened face and she smiled softly. “Just make sure,” she began quietly, “That you're ready… you know, for marriage.” She tried not to make the word sound like a curse. “If he does propose, that is. Take the afternoon to think about it.”

 

Rukia drew in a deep breath and continued, “Do you know that you want to be with him for the rest of your life?”

 

Momo only nodded. “I… I love him. I know that. I've been thinking about it for a while and… I think that if I were to be with him for the rest of my life… I would be happy. I really do. Only now it seems way more plausible… since I've seen the date in his planner.”

 

Rukia nodded and the two continued eating. Momo was still red-faced but now she had a dreamy look in her eyes that spoke to what was going on in her mind: wedding dresses, cakes, and bridesmaids.

 

Rukia smiled softly and nodded at her friend. “I know you'll think this through.” She paused for a minute and continued, “And if it doesn't work out then you'll just be helping the statistics that say fifty percent of marriages end in divorce.”

 

Momo's head shot up to her friend. Rukia was snickering slightly at the horrified expression on her face but that melted away as soon as Momo realized she was only joking.

 

“You!” She cried, laughing lightly and breaking the awkward silence in the room. “Knock on wood Rukia Kuchiki! Quick! Knock on some wood, damn it!”

 

Rukia laughed and leaned back in her chair. She indicated to her desk and to the rest of her office, all of it was either sleek metal or decorative plastic. “Sorry Momo,” she chuckled.

 

Momo ended up hunting in Rukia's office for five minutes until she found a wooden picture frame holding a diploma from their university.

 

They passed the rest of their lunch hour running over situations where Toshiro—hypothetically, of course, as maintained by Rukia—proposed to Momo. Momo swore to Rukia that she would start hyperventilating if he did and for once, Rukia didn't doubt the woman. They went over what dress she should wear to the dinner—Rukia insisted on the black one with the high neck and the flowing skirt but Momo said she would wear the shortened, red, spaghetti strap dress—and what she should order—they both agreed on something that wasn't messy, like steak and some green beans.

 

They continued to battle throughout the day as they packed up Rukia's things and organized her files. Hair up hair down, legs crossed or uncrossed, heavy jewelry or not, surprised gasp or silent awe… things like that occupied their conversations until it was five in the evening and Momo had to leave. Rukia told her secretary that she would finish cleaning up.

 

She didn't leave the office until it was nearly seven in the evening. Rukia rode the metro back to her apartment and sighed softly when she finally slipped out of her high heels. She pulled her hair out of its restrictive pony-tail and shucked off her blasé jacket. Her bare feet slid against the carpet and she slowly moved to the kitchen. She pulled out something resembling a frozen dinner from her freezer and popped it in the microwave. She went into the bedroom and changed out of her pencil skirt, tight shirt, and her brazier. She pulled a large, loose, gray tee over her head and simply walked around her apartment in her underwear and shirt.

 

She didn't know what it was about today—maybe the early morning coffee incident, the news about Gotei Corp. and Suigetsu Inc. merging, meeting with that Kurosaki ass—twice, or hearing about Momo's supposed pending engagement, but she was far more tired than usual.

 

Rukia waited until her dinner was finished warming up and poked at the gelatin mess with distaste. She thought of watching television but instead pulled out some files and began reading until she was too tired to stay awake.

 

Rukia fell asleep with thoughts of orange disturbing her otherwise peaceful slumber.

 

*~*~*

 

Ichigo spent nearly the entire day stewing over his new… situation.

 

He couldn't get that snarky woman's face and attitude out of his mind. The way she challenged him, looked down on him, and outright insulted him seemed to replay in his head until he wanted to take a jackhammer to his brain. It wasn't even all of that either, it was the fact that she had done it all right in front of his own damn boss.

 

And now he was doing house work. Or, office work, so to speak. But it ran along the same principals. He had to make the office ready for her most precious arrival.

 

Ichigo cursed as another paper cut besieged his rough fingers. He had to move all of his stuff just so she could have her own little corner of the room. Hell, it wasn't even a corner, he was practically slicing is office in half in order to give her enough room. It wasn't that he actually wanted to give her more room, it's just that after this morning's interlude he wouldn't want her anywhere within ten feet of him.

 

He grunted as he moved his entire computer off of his desk. He set it on the ground not-so-gently and prayed that none of his files were injured. Ichigo grunted tiredly as he positioned himself against his large wooden block of a desk. He tensed his muscles and gave it a hard shove. The thing didn't budge.

 

“What are you?” Ichigo snarled, “Lashed to the floor?”

 

He kept pushing it again and again. Each time it moved only an inch but after nearly twenty minutes Ichigo had managed to push the damn thing completely to the other side of the room.

 

He stood back, pulled off his jacket, and loosened his tie. The rearranging was taking longer than he thought it would. It was nearly five in the afternoon and he wanted to go home. Still, his office did look much bigger without this huge desk in the center.

 

“Now I just have to find one for her.” He snapped angrily.

 

“Here so late, Mr. Kurosaki?”

 

Ichigo swiveled his head and immediately felt a disgusted, irritating sensation of annoyance slip into the pit of his stomach.

 

He forced a miniscule smile onto his lips and turned back to fixing the stuff on his desk. “Yeah, Inoue, I'm just messing with a couple things.” He plugged his computer into the socket and stood up to his full height, brushing his hands off lightly.

 

There was a slight pause and Ichigo continued to fiddle around with the jack. If there was one thing he did not want to be doing right now it was talking with Orihime Inoue. She was the secretary for the entire floor and managed meetings, fund raisers, and basically kept everyone in this part of the building in check. But to Ichigo Kurosaki she was… something else.

 

It had all started at last years Christmas party when he had had a little too much to drink and she had been standing next to him wearing a rather revealing dress. After a couple more hours and a few more jello shots—which weren't supposed to be there anyway—they had ended up snogging rather enthusiastically back in his office. They hadn't gone all the way—even though Inoue was more than willing and Ichigo had already pulled down the top of her dress—but they had stopped when another rowdily drunk pair had stumbled into his office, clearly intent on using the space for their own private purposes as well.

 

Since that night, which was almost four months ago, Inoue had been… creepy. She watched him whenever he came out of his office, tried to get him to go on dates with her, brought him things to eat, personally delivered messages to him, and even once walked to the office just so she could catch a ride home with him. Once Ichigo had finally caught on to what she was doing—it wasn't like he was blind or anything, but he had happened to be exceedingly busy with a new acquisition and didn't have much time to pay attention to love-sick secretaries—he had let her down. She had taken the news in stony silence and simply went back to work when they had finished talking.

 

Hell, it wasn't like he enjoyed letting her down or anything, and frankly, he didn't see what reason he had to do it. After all, Inoue was attractive, had all the proper assets, and had at least half of a brain in her head, he just never really felt the urge to be with her. Biblically or otherwise.

 

He hadn't really meant to even kiss her. Lame excuse, of course, but it was the truth. When Ichigo drank too much things like that tended to happen whether he wanted them to or not. That night it had been the jello-shots talking, not him.

 

Even four months after the fateful Christmas party and two months after he let her know that he wasn't terribly interested, Inoue had still not given up on him. He wasn't all that bothered by it now, seeing as how she wasn't overtly persistent anymore, but she still managed to do little things to try and get his attention: wearing lower cut shirts and short skirts, bringing him coffee, and talking to him after hours. It was simple stuff like that that made her more or less aggravating. She still hadn't crossed the bridge to a restraining order yet.

 

It didn't help that Inoue was the apple of Uryu's eye either. He had been sweet on her since he had first come to Suigetsu Inc. and hadn't spoken to Ichigo for three months after he found out where, exactly, Orihime Inoue went off to during the middle of the Christmas party. Yet even now, the poor bastard had his heart set on her and was doing anything he could to earn her favor, even though she was still painfully enamored with Ichigo.

 

From his perspective, this all seemed to be too much drama. Ichigo often thought that if a few crazy relatives, arsenic, and illegitimate children were added into the mix they'd have a full on soap opera milling around this place.

 

Ah, but now we add in the obstinate female coworker who should have been born with testicles, Ichigo thought dryly as he continued messing with the wires.

 

“Is someone else coming here?” The woman behind him asked in a cheerfully innocent tone.

 

Damn, Inoue's still there.

 

“Um, yeah,” Ichigo said as he turned and leaned against his desk. He folded his arms over his chest and looked at the pretty woman standing before him.

 

Long, auburn hair flowed down to the middle of her back. She had large, grey eyes and a full mouth with twin, pouty, pink lips. She also had some of the largest breasts Ichigo had ever seen, at least, within the Suigetsu Inc. walls, that is. He still reminded himself to keep his gaze glued to her pert little nose so as not to give her any more… ideas.

 

He swallowed disdainfully and continued. “I've got to work with this she-devil from Gotei Corp. for a while and I'm trying to make some room for her.” He didn't add that he had been forced into this by his boss.

 

“Oh,” she murmured and raised a finger to tap at her chin, the look on her face told him that she was definitely concentrating hard. “That tiny woman with the black hair?”

 

Ichigo's brow furrowed even more and he nodded slowly, “Yeah, that's her. Her name is Rukia Kuchiki and she's—” A nasty little bitch. “Interesting.” He finished lamely.

 

“I saw her in your office earlier today,” Inoue informed him happily, her giddy eyes piercing through his body. “I didn't know who she was but it looked like she was going through your files a bit.” Her animated gaze immediately became dreadfully serious and her full bottom lip turned into a pout.

 

The cloud over Ichigo's head grew darker and he scowled when he thought of that woman pilfering her tiny little hands through his things.

 

“She was probably trying to figure out what she could do to mess with the filing system.” He spat bitterly, but if he were to tell the truth, he would have to say that he didn't actually have a filing system. His was more along the lines of the game fifty two pickup. He just tossed things around hoping to find them later. He sighed and then nodded to Inoue, “Thanks for the update, I'll wring her neck for it tomorrow.”

 

Inoue cocked her head to the side and smiled, “You don't like her that much?” She asked in a bright and bubbly voice.

 

Ichigo truly wanted to end this conversation but he knew that as long as he was actually in the office she would be here, talking with him. He took a minute to consider actually calling Uryu down and having him discuss sewing patterns with the woman but if his suspicions were correct then the damned girly-man had already left.

 

So he just continued talking, “No, I don't. She's an elitist bitch.” He snarled as he quickly pulled together a few files and stuffed them into odd places on his desk. To hell with it, he'd find a desk for her tomorrow; he didn't want to stay here any longer.

 

He roughly pulled on his jacket and fastened his tie a bit tighter around the neck. He packed up the stuff he would need for tonight—basically nothing—and grasped the key to his Benz and his office. He gave Inoue a terse glare and she stepped back obediently. He locked his office, said goodnight, and made his way to the elevator in long, muscular strides. He felt Inoue's eyes on him the entire time and fought not to let an irritated groan slip from his mouth.

 

He rode the elevator in silence, thinking about what the next day would bring.

 

 

 

 

(A/N: In case people were wondering: This story is completely and utterly AU. It's basically original except for our wonderful characters : ) I don't think I'll even put associations to the canon in here. What can I say? I love AU fics.

 

The characters might be OOC—Orihime mainly, but I can't help it, I hate that woman—anyway, consider the situations before wrinkling your nose.

 

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, I never thought I'd have fifty by Chapter 3!!!

 

Please remember to REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!!!)