Work Text
Not many students of UA High School took a sabbatical year after their studies. In fact, most of them jumped into pro hero work as soon as they could.
Not all these students had financial insecurities.
Adjusting the strap on her heels, Maxime grunted with effort, sliding her foot into the shoe and slamming it into the ground. The worst part of being a hostess, after the touchy customers, was the dress code. It never covered as much as she wished it did, and it was uncomfortable, rubbing where it hurt and tight where it shouldn’t be.
With a sigh, she left the employee area and made her way to the table that had called for a hostess. They didn’t specify any, she hadn’t made a name for herself, on purpose— she didn’t want this temporary arrangement to be tracked to her later down the line. While her job as a hostess wasn’t anything too risqué, she could already foresee the glares she would get as a pro hero if word got out that she used to butter up men to buy expensive wines for her restaurant. Perhaps she should have considered adding a mask to her costume. It could still be arranged.
She was glad the club she joined was reputable, at least. Nothing dingy, dirty or dangerous. The Madame took good care of the girls, and there was a sense of camaraderie among them.
That camaraderie was why she took up the table, when she saw that none of the other girls wanted to. Difficult return clients, then. Just as well— born to a fiery mother, Maxime had the tongue and audacity to be rude to a client if need be. Fiery was an expression — her quirk was healing.
Maxime’s? Decay.
Ironic.
Walking over to the table, making sure to sway her hips as she did, she flashed a large smile at the group of men in suits.
“ Heyyyy! “
“ Oh- hello, “ spoke one of the men, flustered. She couldn’t tell if he was simply some poor pencil pusher being forced to come here by a superior, or simply unused to women’s attention.
“ Wha—? Hey! We didn’t want a foreigner! “ said an already inebriated man, sitting across from the first one.
Her target.
Walking over, she sat right next to him, batting her lashes.
“ Sir, you hurt my feelings. I was looking forward to meeting nice men today! “
“ Yeah? “ said the man, his anger subsiding as he looked down at her chest. “ You did, huh? *
hic
* “
Disgusting.
“ Yes.. “ she said pitifully, laying her head gently on his arm as she clasped delicate hands around it, pressing up against him. “ All the men I’ve met so far have been so rude to me,” she sighed.
“ I- I am very sorry about him- “ started the flustered man, raising his hands as if to appease her. She giggled, holding a hand in front of her mouth.
“ No, I understand. It must be hard, to enjoy oneself when the company is not compatible. I … I am aware …” she started fake sniffling, her hand now wiping non existant tears, “ that my appearance is not … I am not as beautiful as the women here … “
“ N- No, you are lovely!” The nicer man said, trying to console her. His coworker, she assumed, meanwhile, drank some more of the bottle he already had been making his way through, laughing.
“ I’m sho sorry, baby, “ he slurred, leaning into her. She gently pushed him away with a single finger. “ On closher look, you’re not sho bad..! How can I make it up to ya, huh? “
“ Well… “ she acted coy, looking down, “ there is this bottle I wanted to try … “
Too easy.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Finally taking off those godforsaken heels, she rubbed the back of her ankles as a girl in a purple dress draped her arms around her, laying her head atop of hers with a dramatic sigh.
“ Oh Max, you’re an angel! “
“ Relax, Himiko, “ chuckled the brunette, taking the sparkling hair clips from her hair, “ It wasn’t a big deal. “
“ Had I known the old geezer was racist, I’d have taken him for you! “ the other woman sighed, louder this time, then hugged Maxime. “ I don’t get why he was so mad, you’re gorgeous! “
“ Himiko, “ Maxime laughed, gently prying her arms away, “ are you drunk? You know what Madame will say if she notices. “
“ Mmmh she won’t~ !” said the other with a giggle in her voice. “ She’s busy! “
“ Busy? “ repeated Max, quirking a brow as she turned around in her seat to look at her friend, incredulous.
Himiko nodded. “ There’s heroes outside! Apparently, some biiiig profile guy has been seen around here! Scary!”
Despite her statement, Himiko giggled again, the blush on her cheeks not subsiding. Maxime almost grabbed her waist when she saw her friend trip on her own feet, but the drunk girl managed to keep her balance, and giggled away into the other side of the room.
Turning back to her mirror, Maxime went deep in thoughts. A villain, hanging near hostess clubs? Not unheard of, but not reassuring either. She’d have to be careful, she thought. Since she was the only one in this building licensed to use her quirks for civilian arrests, bouncers not included, this meant the girls’ security partially would lie on her, if the villain was to step in here.
They’d better not, she thought.
Her thoughts kept wandering. And wandering …
They stopped when she pulled herself back to reality, getting up to change into casual clothes.
“ Girls, I’m off! “ she called out.
“ Good night! “, the voices of the other girls rose in response, and she waved them goodbye before leaving from the back, walking into the city.
Despite being a hero-in-training, walking alone at night still scared her a little. Sure, Japan was safer than her country of birth, especially more so with the rise of All Might in past years, but she supposed it was the womanly condition, to be scared of being alone outside at night. She sighed in disapproval. It was so unfair …
Reaching her apartment block, she shuffled with her keys a bit before turning them in the door lock, then opening it, closing the door behind her with her behind. She stayed there for a minute, sliding down to sit against it.
What was she doing with her life? Others from her class were undoubtedly at work now, saving lives, founding agencies, working hard. And her? She was seducing men and women to spend their money on alcohol, just so she wouldn’t feel too bad about spending money on groceries, despite already having money.
She thought back. On her childhood. She was 14, when they moved to Japan. Her fault. Her request. She wanted to join UA, and so, her poor, single mother obliged. And she’d never recovered from it, mentally. Feeling guilty about their financial status, feeling like it was her fault that her mother was stressed constantly about making ends meet. Sure, they had support, and ultimately pulled through. Her mother had insisted time and time again that it was not her fault, that as her mother, she was proud to support her dreams of becoming a hero. But it didn’t fill up the fridge. It didn’t patch the hole in her shoe during the track race.
Why did she even want to be a hero? What made her ask to join UA, and made her mother uproot her entire life for her, selfish little girl?
Ah, right … that day …
The day a truck had turned on it’s side, sliding on the road. Pinning a girl, older than she was, by the leg underneath it. The day a crowd had gathered around it, loud, buzzing, like a swarm of bees.
She remembered gliding through the bodies of those people, like a fish in a rushing river. Effortless, sliding between the shouting people.
People had been calling for a hero, any hero, to help. Some called All Might - she didn’t know the name at the time, she was a little girl, and she did not speak English. Some simply wished for any hero to come help.
Some good samaritans were trying to lift up the truck. But none had the quirk for it. She just remembered that poor girl, crying in fear and pain, as oil poured around her, her leg bleeding, pinned under the truck. She remember thinking:
‘ I don’t want to do nothing. ‘
In the next moment, she was outrunning adults that tried to grab and pull her away, and she herself grabbed something in her dress pocket. A little tree seed she had picked up earlier. Slamming it into the cracked concrete, she focused as hard as she could, and used her quirk. In an instant, the tree was growing, and with it, pulled up the truck, just enough for the girl to be able to crawl away. In the next moment, both she and that girl were yanked back, as the tree turned to rot, and came crashing down with the truck again.
Heavy, heavy silence.
Then cheers.
She was held up in the air by the man who had pulled her away, bouncing her with a joyous smile on her face. They called her a hero that day. She didn’t know that.
She didn’t speak English.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
She slept in the next day. Which was saying a fair lot, since she usually slept into an hour after noon. Three hours later than usual, she rose ungracefully, a faint bit of drool on her pillow as she snorted awake. Huh, she must have slept fairly heavily … Turning the pillow over - too lazy to wash it, she was - she grabbed blindly for her phone, quickly finding it in its usual spot: under her hip, having slid down there during the night from its original spot by her head. Classic. Through blurry eyes, she could see a notification. A message. From the Madame. Great … With a groan, she unlocked her phone, then opened the message.
[ We need you to cover Himiko’s shift tonight. Important client. ]
Odd. It wasn’t like Himiko to flake. But then again, things could happen - an illness, an accident, god forbid, a death. And she knew the Madame wouldn’t have contacted her if she couldn’t find any other replacements. Either everyone else had already been requested specifically, or the end times were happening. Which implied the club would still be opened during such an event, which, knowing the Madame, it might be. Shame, she was looking forward to a lazy evening. Click . And just like that, the call was done. A grin tugged at the corners of the man’s lips as he sat at his desk, his back against the large windows overlooking Tokyo. A bit bold of a location, perhaps. But nothing less deserved would befit him. He looked down at the paperwork before him, an amused huff escaping him as he relaxed back into his cushiony chair. So much work, so much planning and preparation … surely, even he deserved a rest, from time to time, mmh? A nice little relaxation? Yes … a treat. “ Sir, “ a woman’s voice spoke over his intercom, “ the preparations for tonight are ready. “ “ Excellent, “ his baritone voice replied, his smile audible. With practiced elegance, he rose up from his seat, which creaked under the alleviated pressure. “ I’ll be leaving at 7:00. “
The atmosphere felt weirdly … heavy, when she arrived. Not somber, not … almost romantic. The girls in the back rooms were giddily preparing themselves, as usual - but this time, the Madame herself walked over to her to pull her into an empty seat.
“ Obaasan, what’s with you tonight? “ Maxime asked, spun around by the elderly woman.
“ I told you, Maxime, you’re in charge of an important client. Himiko suddenly canceled, so you’re my last option. “
“ Hardly seems so, “ she gestured to the rest of the room before the old lady lowered her arm, getting to work on her unruly hair, muttering under her breath. “ Old lady, the place is packed ! “
“ I know, but all of them were requested, by name, by different tables. You were the only one free. “
“ Me? “ she repeated, incredulous. “ Madame, “ she spoke with a clear voice, “ isn’t that odd? “
“ Unlikely, but not impossible, “ the old woman shrugged, pinning back some of Maxime’s hair strands behind her ears with black pins. Maxime couldn’t help but giggle at her reflection. She was almost cute.
“ He had a dress sent, he wants to see if it fits you, “ The Madame promptly said.
Maxime’s smile vanished.
“ Sent?! Wait, what- now
that
’s weird! “
“ It’s not unheard of, “ the old lady shrugged once more. “ Rich weirdos like him like to pamper the girls sometimes, “ she simply added. “ Makes them feel in control. “
“ He’s not going to control me, “ Maxime frowned.
As the old lady took out the dress from the rack, however, she couldn’t deny he had some taste.
A deep red satin dress, with off-the-shoulder sleeves. A bit revealing for her taste, but not as badly as the spaghetti strap dresses she usually wore. It seemed sequined, judging by the shimmer it had under the dim lights of the dressing room. She hoped it wouldn’t give her a nasty rash later.
“ Did he say anything about returns? “ she joked, only to be smacked upside the head by the old lady. “
OW!
Obaasan!! “
“ Don’t joke! I told you, he’s an important customer. Now get up, I’ll dress you. “
With a grumble, she did as she was told, and the dress was put over her figure. As much as she hated to admit it, she was pleasantly surprised. It hugged her nicely, without being too tight, which she had come to expect from the dresses in this industry.
“ It seems it fits, “ the old lady muttered to herself, as Maxime couldn’t help herself but to observe her appearance in the mirror. One of the girls, boasting a cockatiel head from her quirk, whistled at her, then giggled.
“ Maxie! Look at you, you’re gorgeous! “
“ Fuyu! Don’t I? I barely recognize myself! “
The chatter and laughter of the girls rose from behind the doors as the Madame stepped out, looking into the main room.
There, farthest away from any doors or windows, in the dark corner of the establishment, sat a single man, with two security guards flanking him, in the VIP area.
She didn’t trust this. As loathe as she was to send one of her girls into a wolf’s den, Maxime was possibly her safest bet, knowing the girl was a trained pro-hero in study, and had the verbal bite to put her foot down on boundaries should the need arise, unlike some of the more timid girls.
The Madame couldn’t help but think about what happened last night.
A pro hero and the police chief of the locale stood before her in the alleyway beside the establishment. She didn’t remember much about them, save that one of them had the fins of a shark.
“ Miss Obaya- “
“ Call me Madame. “
“ Madame. We’ve had reports of a high ranking villain being spotted in this area, increasing in frequency the past few days. We ask that all businesses, yours including, be on the lookout, and report to us if you have any suspicions. “
“ Do you have any visual details to give me? I can’t very well report every suspicious client I get, you would be swarmed, young men. “
“ As of now, no. The agencies that sent out the lookout notice are keeping things quite shush. We simply ask you to remain vigilant, and tell your girls to start heading home in pairs, preferably. “
That was all they told her. Without doubt, that man over there was suspicious. But with the amount of money he was willing to dish out on wine before even seeing a single girl, she couldn’t help but worry. If he was some construction mogul’s son, or a politician somewhere, it could spell the end of her business. Years of work, establishing her club as a reputable, safe area, gone in an instant.
She couldn’t afford it. If this man truly was a villain, then sending him her hero girl was the safest bet.
Even if it was only coincidence she was the only free one tonight.
Right?
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The usually boisterous club was unusually quiet that night, voices barely above a murmur in the dimly lit main room. As she walked past table after table, Maxime couldn’t help furtive glances at them. The girls were entertaining small groups of men, though sometimes she could see women too, all well-dressed and seemingly entranced with them. It was odd. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was somehow one large group, perhaps from a single company, out on a party. If it was, they were very well-mannered. And willing to part with money, it seemed.
And if it was a company, she worried she was going to meet the CEO.
Walking over to the VIP area, Maxime scanned around for the table furthest in the back, as the Madame instructed her. As she said, she quickly spotted it by the two security guards posted on either side of the secluded booth. She started to wonder if he was perhaps more than a CEO. Dear god, don’t let him be
that
important.
Striding over, making sure that the sway of her hips was subtle, but still noticeable, she flashed her practiced, fake grin, making sure it reached her eyes.
“ Hey there, sir! “ she called out with a little wave. Her persona of the outgoing, friendly foreigner usually was 50/50 with clients. Some wanted the shy persona. Some wanted the femme fatale. And they would get Maxime. “ My name is Marianne, and I’ll be your hostess tonight! I hope we can have fun! “
The man sitting across from her took his sweet time reacting. Leaning over to grab his glass of wine, he looked up at her, then down, then back up, and flashed her a lazy grin, pupils cut in half behind half-lidded eyes as he leaned back into the seat.
“ I’m sure we will. Why don’t you take a seat? “
A faint shiver ran up her spine as he answered her. That air of confidence, almost smugness … no, definitively smugness. It was almost enthralling, irresistible …
How she wanted to wipe that grin off his face.
Her grin widening, she strut over and took a seat next to him. Almost immediately, he reached over to her, to which she slapped his hand away with a giggle.
“ You know the rule, sir! “
“ Is there any rule against getting a drink for my lovely hostess? “
“ Huh? “
Confused, she simply watched as he reached over again, taking the menu in hand and bringing it over, making a show of opening it and flipping to the back of it, where the priciest wines would be listed.
“ Mmmh … I wonder which one of these would loosen your tongue. “
“ Excuse me? “ she replied, almost offended.
“ You play the role well, but I’m not fooled, lovely. I know you’re not this act you’re putting up. “
Stuck in dumbfounded awe at being called out, she didn’t even react as he called over for a waiter, and ordered the single most expensive drink on the menu: a 50.000$ Rémy Martin Black Pearl cask. She almost wanted to tell him to save his money; she was good at her job, and maybe pleasing on the eye, but not
that
much.
But as the bottle appeared on the table, it sunk in that this guy was filthy, disgustingly rich. Dear god …
With his grin ever present, the man leaned over, inspecting the bottle. Then, he turned to her, all smiles, and gestured questioningly to the bottle.
“ Do you know where this is from? “
She looked at the bottle for a few seconds, then shrugged, confused.
“ France, obviously. “
“ Oh? “ he said with a tilt of the head and his smile widening. “ How are you so certain? “
“ I don’t know much about wines, but Rémy Martin is a French name. Plus, the top is a fleur-de-lys, and the name of Louis XIII is engraved there. It’s obviously French. “
“ How attentive. Would you like some? “ he asked, already pouring two glasses before she could even protest.
She grit her teeth. She didn’t want to drink, and usually she was good at avoiding having to. But this guy’s attention was fixated on her, and she didn’t want to trouble the old lady by upsetting him with a refusal. With a mumbled thank you, she grabbed the glass.
In an instant, his fingers were around her chin, tilting her head to look at him, grinning widely, eyes gently squinted in pleasure.
“ Now now, is that any way to thank someone? “
“ Y- You’re not supposed to touch me. “
“ Mmh? “
He didn’t budge, and for some reason, she didn’t shove him away. She should’ve, he was pushing his god damned luck with her, but looking into his eyes … it was almost hypnotizing. Magnetic. She simply gulped, still somewhat annoyed, and rolled her eyes.
“ Thank you … “
“ There you are, “ he chuckled, releasing her jaw. She rubbed it, a bit flustered. Dear god, that wasn’t good, she was supposed to be on top of things! Without thinking, she took a sip of her glass, then coughed, having it go down the wrong way.
“ Don’t be too eager now, “ he chuckled, then took a sip of his own drink, visibly pleased with himself. She couldn’t help but bristle at his laughter- how dare he mock her? -but still tried to calm down. Clearly, he enjoyed playing mind games, and toying with her. And feeling in control.
She could play with that. And by that, she meant dance along the limit.
Hungry eyes glistened in the dark lighting of the booth as she took her glass again, gulping it down, then gasping for air, giggling. Then, she held up the glass to him.
“ Could you pour me another? “
A few drinks later, she was wasted. Ugly wasted, at that. With an ugly laugh, she leaned against his shoulder. He chuckled.
“ What a pretty sight. “
“ Shhhhut up. “
As he simply laughed lowly to himself and took another sip of his drink, she looked up at him. A face sculpted out of marble, deep, crimson eyes, looking clear and intent at his drink, and what a nose … Then, curious, she looked further up, at hair the color of ivory. Then at his hairline.
A tiny, barely visible patch of thinning hair.
She wasn’t sure why she did what she did next. Maybe it was simply a dumb urge to feel a new texture. Surely the cognac uninhibited her, because never in a thousand years would she have done what she did.
Smacked the balding spot.
Next thing was blurry for her. A moment where the air in the entire club was heavy and silent, all eyes suddenly on her. Except his, looking straight ahead, dumbfounded. But then he turned to her, incredulous. And where she expected yelling, or a slap, his smile simply returned.
His security details tried barging in, but with a single motion of the hand, they stopped. All the while, poor, drunk Maxime was not paying attention, fingers still on that patch of hair, absent-mindedly rubbing on it. It felt like fuzz on a puppy’s back. It was interesting. And he wasn’t pushing her off, so what was the big deal?
Next thing she remembered, she was being escorted out, a large hand set on her hip as the Madame’s voice was barely audible through the thick fog of her mind, blocking her ears. Then, she was outside, and it was much too cold. Until something heavy was set on her shoulders. Then, she thought she was being escorted to a vehicle, but fell asleep on the way there.
She didn’t remember the rest.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
She always figured that she’d wake up after a night like that with a yelp and sitting up. But she didn’t - in fact, she woke up quite nicely. The bed was comfortable, the sunrays gently warmed up her skin, the bedsheets were cool, yet kept her nicely warm, the smell of cooking food was nice- wait.
The smell of cooking food?
Sitting up with a startle, finally, she looked around at the definitively unfamiliar place. For sure, this was not her dinky apartment - the view outside those floor-to-ceiling windows spoke to it before the luxe furniture even could. She had to be several feet - no, several stories above ground. And that furniture … it was minimalist, sleek, modern … no way she had ever afforded that in her life, not her, dig-in-the-recycling-bin-for-reusables-Maxime. Well, she hadn’t done that since high school anyhow … alright, first year of college.
After making sure she was, in fact, wearing clothes - alarmingly, not her own -, she slid out of the ridiculously large bed, then looked around apprehensively. Did the guy from the club bring her back to his place? Did they …
Bright red from fluster and pooling shame, she shook her head, as if trying to chase away the very thought. But why else would a man bring home a hostess … ?
… If anything like that happened, it was a crime. And as a future pro-hero, she couldn’t let that slide. Puffing up her chest, she walked to the bedroom door, and opened it wide, slamming it behind her. Before realizing she was in a walk-in closet.
While the many Italian suits were impressive, they were not what she was looking for. Neither were the 28 pairs of identical lace-up shoes. Embarrassed, she walked back out, then up to what she hoped was the correct door, before hearing a familiar baritone voice call out from the room adjacent;
“ Awake already? Come then, I’ve made breakfast. “
No way in shitfuck that this guy cooks.
Steeling herself again, she opened the door wide, then stepped out and towards the location of the voice. Then she stopped, and flushed bright red again.
There, before her, was the man from before, wearing a little apron, and serving breakfast. A picture straight out of many romance novels before, no doubt. A fucking nightmare for her. A … tempting nightmare, but a nightmare nonetheless.
“ … You cooked. “
“ I did. “
“ You really cooked. “
“ Is that so surprising? “
Dumbfounded, she walked over, and he was quick to pull out a chair for her. Without really thinking, she sat down, and he pushed her in, then walked around and untied his apron, set it down, then took his own seat. Then, he started eating, oh-so-casually.
She had … many questions, but one was more pressing than any other one.
“ Did we … ? “
“ My goodness, no! I’m no monster! “
Hindsight is a bitch, dear viewers, and hindsight is not a quirk Maxime has, or had. Relieved to hear it, she sighed heavily, sinking into her chair. Chewing his bit of pancakes, the breakfast of the morning, he gulped it down before cocking his head to the side, faking a hurt expression with a smirk that betrayed his feelings.
“ Did you really think so lowly of me? You see me hurt, Miss Bellerose. “
“ Why else would a man bring a hostess home? “
And where did he learn her name? She frowned, but before she could ask that, he answered her prior question with what wanted to be a comforting smile.
“ You were completely gone, I’m afraid, and I couldn’t simply let you walk home by yourself. “
“ I could have asked a coworker to walk me home. “
“ With villain sightings near the place? I wouldn’t have felt right leaving you to your own devices, or your lovely coworkers’. “
“ How heroic of you. “
“ Not at all. “
“ Well then, next question. Where did you learn my last name? “
He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink - orange juice, the maniac -, then answered;
“ I’m afraid you were so drunk, you said it yourself. “
She doubted that, even drunk, she would somehow reveal her last name. It wasn’t something that came up often during drunk babbles, she assumed. But then again, she vaguely recalled saying it … or was it someone else in the car? She groaned, clutching her head, and the man across her noticed, looking up behind ivory lashes.
“ Hungover? “
“ I guess … never been before. “
“ My apologies, it is my fault. Allow me to make it up to you for it. “
“ Make it up to me? “
A predatory grin flashed across his lips, revealing pearly white, perfect teeth, and she couldn’t help but gulp. He laughed a roarious laughter, and she clutched her head again. Sliding aspirins and a glass of water towards her, he chuckled more softly.
“ I apologize again. You are simply very entertaining. “
“ Thank you, I guess … “ she muttered, fiddling with the child safety cap.
“ As for a proper apology … am I right in assuming you are a college graduate? “
She paused, taking her drink of water down to the table and shooting him an incredulous look.
“ How would you guess? “
“ You are clearly an educated young woman. “
“ Knowing about obviously french things does not an educated woman make. “
“ Not just that, my dear. It’s in your demeanor, your intelligent eyes, the way you speak. “
She wondered if any of this was classist.
“ And I dare assume you have student loan debts. “
Ah, he finally got to the point. She frowned, but slowly nodded. She could see it coming a mile away.
“ How about I apologize for your first hangover with your forgiveness? Of your student loans, that is. “
“ You would be too generous. Emphasis on ‘too’.”
He chuckled lowly, then straightened up in his seat, waving a hand dismissively.
“ Perhaps you are more charming than you think. I think you might have me under a quirk of some sort. “
“ Hardly. “ She flatly replied, sipping the rest of her water, shooting him a warning glare. The matter of her quirk was sensitive, even into adulthood.
He simply grinned wider.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“What would it take to make you mine?”
The question had come as a shock, jolting her much more awake than any drug or caffeine could. With wide, confused and startled eyes, she looked head-on at him. This … ungodly beautiful man, this marble statue turned alive, this … rich, rich bastard. Rich bastard asking her, a hostess, what it would take to make her his. His what? Girlfriend? Wife? Possession? Arm candy?
None of these could be his. Because … because …
She shook her head sternly, chasing away the mental image of the black-haired man in her mind, then looked ahead at the man in front of her. It had only been a night, and already he asked such things?
“ You move on quickly. “
“ I don’t like beating around the bush. “
“ Clearly. Your answer is nothing. I won’t be yours. “
He leaned forward, his menacing grin still flashing at her, propping his chin on his palm. His smile was like that of a predator, flashing glinting teeth.
“ What if I lavished you? “
“ Then I would bleed you dry of your money, and leave you hanging. “
Promptly, she stood up, walking towards the bedroom door, and opened it before he could say anything. She looked back at him over her shoulder, still sitting at the large dining table, smugly smiling at her, unconcerned.
“ Thank you for breakfast. “
She then entered the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Quickly, she set to her task, rummaging around for her clothes of the previous night. Loath as she was to wear something
he
had gotten for her - and she was now concerned at how it fit her so well -, she had nothing else to put on, save for the pajamas she unnervingly was still wearing. Did he … undress her, to put these on? Who cares, she could report him later, for now all she needed to do was-
“ You know, it
is
tempting. “
That blasted, charming, enthralling baritone voice spoke from the door. There, he was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking down at her kneeling form by the bed with his ever-present smirk. A shadow was cast over him, from the light of the dining room behind him, despite the massive windows of the bedroom letting in an abundance of natural light. Holy smokes, he was tall.
“ Rarely before has a woman plainly told me she would try and strip me of my riches, and give me nothing in return. That is refreshing. And exciting. “
“ Glad to get your panties wet, “ she curtly replied, unnerved by the previous realization about her current attire. He laughed, making her wince in pain again, the headache having yet to subside, before he then asked;
“ What’s gotten into you so suddenly? You were so pleasant but a minute ago. “
“ The realization you’ve undressed me, “ she said with clear disdain and irritation in her voice, finally turning to stare him down. Chuckling, he held his hands up, as if being arrested.
“ I did no such thing. “
“ Liar. “
“ It’s the truth. I had my secretary do it for me, and she assured me you were covered by a blanket the entire time. “
“ Like I believe you, “ she almost spat, before groaning loudly at the realization her clothes were nowhere to be found. Angry, she slammed the poor clothing item she was holding onto the floor, which only pathetically made a faint
fwohp
sound as it made contact with the ground.
“ If you’re looking for that
lovely
dress, I had it sent for a wash. “
“ Then I guess it
did
have a return policy. “
“ I said no such thing. “ He smirked, lowering his hands and placing them into his own pajama pockets. “ Even if you refuse to entertain my proposal, the dress is yours. “
“ How kind. “
“ No one else could wear it, “ he simply said.
He said it as if it was a fact.
Perhaps it was. If it was tailored to her, no other woman could fill it in nicely. But surely it wasn’t - he’d have no way of knowing her exact measurements. It was a lucky guess, that was it. She had to believe it was.
Because the implication otherwise was chilling, and she liked to believe this man was simply rich, not a criminal. Well … not a villain. Her political ideas besides. There was no way a man as wealthy as he was could have gotten these riches without
some
criminal activity, whether his or an associate’s. Perhaps even a relative’s.
His breath on her neck made all her hair stand up on ends, and she turned around with a yelp, coming face-to-face with his smiling face.
“ If you need any clothes, I can lend you some to get home in. “
“ I’m not stupid, I won’t be in your debt. “
“ No debt needs to be incurred! All you’d have to do is return them to me whenever you have time! “
As much as she wished she could refuse … the clothes she had available now were only pajamas. It seemed like he did not ask Madame for her own clothes back at the club. She wondered if that was on purpose. With a defeated sigh, and a groan, she nodded, and he stood up, clapping his hands once with cheer in his actions and voice.
“ Perfect! Please, wait here. “
She watched him leave, and she wondered why he didn’t go to the walk-in closet. And where he’d get women’s clothes. She sighed, plopping down onto the bed, gently bouncing as she did. Good suspension … she presumed he would simply grab some shirt and shorts for her - it didn’t
need
to be women’s clothes, only to cover her. She gave another look at the bedroom, assuming she would never see it again. It was a rare opportunity to see how a rich man furnished his sleeping palace.
And of course, it was bare of anything that could make it look homely. A tiled stone floor, black walls, the bed directly facing massive windows, which were only adorned with sleek, black curtains. The wall against which the headboard of the bed leaned had two small lights on each side of the bed, which had equally sad bedding covering it, and a few pillows. She was surprised it wasn’t all white, and that he owned more than a single pillow. She wondered if he was one of those men who woke up at 5am to take a cold shower and disinfect his entire bed. She shivered at the thought, disgusted. Pretentious …
Though the room was bare and sleek, very neo-modern, it didn’t feel … sterile. The colors were dark and warm, and overall, she didn’t hate it. Though she might have gotten a portable heater there. Guess he
did
like his home cold …
A few minutes later, he came back, and she swore she could have died right there. Embarrassed at being caught looking at his room, she stood up as he entered, thankfully, indeed, only carrying a pair of shorts and a shirt. Which were …
“ They’re too big, “ she flatly said, holding up the shirt in front of her.
“ Well … I suppose I
am
a big boy, “ he replied, almost looking bashful, before that damned grin appeared again
“ Never call yourself that again, friendly advice, “ she curtly said with a small shiver, folding up the shirt again. “ I’ll float in these. “
“ Isn’t that what fashion calls ‘cute’ nowadays, for women? Oversized clothes? “
“ For girls wearing their boyfriends’ clothes, “ she sighed, then groaned in realization that she walked directly into his trap, as his grin widened. “ Which you are not. “
“ You wound me, “ he murmured, and the depth of his voice could have made her vibrate into another dimension. Dear god, you cat in heat, calm down!
“ I’ll just … take these and go, “ she muttered, tired already from this ordeal, and walked out of the bedroom, before her voice echoed:
“ Where’s the bathroom? “
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The walk home was miserable, and much too long. And cold.
That is what she wished she could say.
But rather than walk home as she had hoped, there she was, in the comfortable seat of a luxury car, smoothly riding home, watching the rain fall down on the window beside her. She almost wished she was outside, feeling the cool water on her face. Maybe then she’d stop blushing so furiously.
“ Let me drive you home, “ he’d said.
“ I know how to walk. “
“ It’s going to rain before you reach home, “ he had argued.
“ How do you know that? Maybe I live just down the street, “ she riposted, walking out of the bathroom with the oversized clothes, dress shirt clumsily tucked into her shorts. She looked like she was wearing pajamas. Very, very fancy pajamas. That included a dress shirt. This was ridiculous.
“ You wouldn’t work so far away, “ he chuckled, and she had nothing to say in response. She could argue further, of course, but she had a feeling he wasn’t going to let it go. And so, she did.
“ I’m surprised you don’t have a chauffeur, “ she joked.
Lo and behold, he did. Of course he fucking did. Because how else would he be able to sit right next to her, much too close for comfort, a hand suspiciously close to her thigh.
“ Paws to yourself. “
“ You’re so bossy, “ he replied, amused. “ And you wonder why I want to keep you around me. “
“ I do. There are other girls that would gladly be a brat to you. “
“ But they’re not you. “
She looked furtively at him, and he was staring at her. She couldn’t help but be entranced by his eyes. They were … beautiful, yet haunting. Pure white, yet … devoid of light, somehow. Empty. Yet, oh so fixated on her, freezing her in place.
She wondered how the hell she could have caught this man’s attention so badly. She scoffed, hoping the flush on her cheeks was not as visible as it felt, and looked back to the window.
“ We’re almost here, “ he said, lowly.
The car slowed to a stop before her dinky little apartment building, out of place in the affordable neighborhood. An elderly lady walking her dog stopped at the sight, and Maxime wished she could die in this spot.
Shuffling to open the door, she was stopped by a hand gently grabbing her wrist, and setting it down on her lap.
“ Allow me. “
“ You’re annoying. “
He simply chuckled in response, and opened his own door. After walking around the front of the car, he reached her side, then opened her door, making a grand show of it, and of offering her his hand. She seriously debated biting it, then, deciding she couldn’t afford a lawsuit, simply stood up on her own, obstinate, and walked out of the car.
As she made her way to her apartment door, not affording him a glimpse, she felt her hand be grabbed, and gently being yanked back. She yelped, before turning around to slap him, only to see and feel the gentle press of fair lips on the back of her hand.
Oh no. Ooooh no.
She felt herself explode in red pigmentation all over her face, as he looked up at her behind ivory lashes, and flashed her a toothy grin. Oh how she wished she could slap him. How she wished she wasn’t the female lead of a romance novel, blushing and weak for the rich bastard trying to flirt with her. She was better than that, god dammit! She didn’t need him, or to be sugared, didn’t know if “sugared” was an actual term, and she didn’t need his stupid, cementing white eyes to look at her!
She yanked her hand away, and he laughed, softly, and she damned that breath he stole away every time he laughed.
“ I do hope to see you again, Ms. Bellerose. “
“ Keep dreaming, “ she curtly replied. And with that, she entered her apartment, and left him out in the rain. Surely that was that.
Or was it.
She entered her apartment with a sigh, kicking her shoes off, and sliding down the closed front door. Running a hand through her hair, she groaned, halfway in pain from sore shoes and head, halfway in tiredness. Maybe she should quit being a hostess … these kinds of situations were not what she had signed up for, and now, he knew where she worked, and where she lived. Maybe she even had to move out, now … this would cost a lot.
Her thoughts went to the Madame. How would she react to her resignation? She had taken such good care of Maxime, and she was paying it back by resigning after one night outside the club?
Another sigh. Adulting was a pain in the ass.
Getting up, she walked to her bedroom, which felt cold after only one night not being slept in. She almost couldn’t help comparing it to a particularly bratty cat. A pout. She wanted a cat … But this apartment building had a no pet rule, and while she wasn’t above ignoring certain rules … it wasn’t worth the hassle.
Shuffling to the bed, she grabbed her pajamas of the previous night. Nothing fancy like what that man would wear - no! No, stop thinking about him!
A wriggle out of her borrowed clothes and into clothes that actually belonged to her later, she walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing herself a soda can. Grabbing her laundry basket, she shoved in the man’s lended clothes, and made her way to the door, aiming to go downstairs to the laundromat.
After all, it’d be rude to return dirty clothes, right?
He could have taken it, right there, right then. The decay quirk. She was right there, and so was his hand. A part of him wished he got it over and done with. A greater part of him however enjoyed the chase - the
hunt
. The thrill of breaking down her walls, making her fall for him, and eventually, down the line, work for him.
Yes … everything would fall into place, sooner or later. It was only a matter of time. And he was a very patient man.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The grip on her head was painful. Her knuckles were slowly turning white, as she stared a hole into her sink. She had been feeling so upset, she had turned over her stomach. The call came later that night, before she was set to walk to work. From the Madame. She picked it up, expecting maybe a lecture for leaving the club with a client. Not what actually happened. “ Evening obaasan. I was getting ready to- “ “ You don’t have to come into work anymore, “ the old lady’s voice rang, sharp and cold. Almost as cold as Maxime’s blood, freezing in her veins. She could feel a cold sweat bead rolling down her spine as she processed what Madame said. With a faint tremble in her voice, and a fractured smile on her lips, she replied: “ W… What? “ “ You’re fired, Maxime. “ No … no, no, no! “ W- Wait, Madame- Is it about last night? “ “ Of course it’s about last night, “ the Madame said. And though Maxime was too upset to hear it in her voice, the old lady didn’t sound as angry as she ought to be. “ You left with a client, Maxime. I can’t have people thinking I run a whorehouse. “ “ I- I’m sorry, I promise we didn’t- “ “ It’s not about whether or not you did it, Bellerose. It’s about what others think. And others saw you walk out, glued to his arm, drunk and stupid. I’m sorry, dear, I really am. “ And she sounded so sincere, Maxime felt her stomach seize in pain. “ But you’re not welcome here anymore. “ She hurled, and the line disconnected. The phone smashed into the receiver, much harder than wrinkled, bony hands should be able to, and a heavy sigh went past her lips. One manicured hand went up and rubbed over her eyes. She knew the other girls were past her door, listening in. She knew they would talk amongst each other - spread the news that Maxime was fired, because she didn’t obey the rule, because she might have slept with a client. She hoped they wouldn’t believe it. She truly did. Because she knew Maxime wouldn’t have. But she had no choice. “ You did the right thing, “ the deep voice in the chair in front of her approved. “ Now, you follow your end of the deal, “ she ordered, glaring daggers at the man in front of her. “ You get your men away from my club. “ “ Of course, obaasan. A promise's a promise. “ “ Don’t call me that, “ she spat, her anger boiling under her skin. “ My apologies, “ he grinned. She stood up from her chair, and stomped over to her door. In a jangle of bracelets and other pearl accessories, she whipped open the door, and stared at her guest, gesturing outside forcefully. “ Now, if you would do me the pleasure - I have a business to run. And I believe you do too. “ “ So cold, “ he chuckled. But he followed the old lady’s orders, and stood up, slowly making his way to the exit door. As she was getting ready to close it behind him, the man stopped, turning just enough to glance at the little old lady over his shoulder, his smile ever present and his lightless eyes squinted in sick amusement. “ Ah, before I forget … you’d better not tell the authorities, Madame. You know what happened to that Isakaya down the road, yes? “ Her blood ran cold, and her grip on the doorknob became tighter. Of course she remembered. It was a tragedy. She’d ran over when she heard the news, and the blood … the blood never truly washed out of the building. It was never sold after that, and now, rumors among the youth went that it was haunted by those brutally murdered that night. But officially, nobody had been murdered. They were all “missing”. Missing for 14 years now. With all that blood, no one was missing. She hoped so, at least. If they were still alive, they were better off dead, with what was possibly happening to them. The man’s grin widened, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light of her office as he saw the fear in her eyes, the remembrance. He nodded. “ Right. I believe our little secret is going to be kept, then. Good evening, obaasan . “ And with that, he left. She couldn’t close the door too soon after that, her hands flat on either side of it, like she expected him to come back, barging in, like she could hold him behind the door if he did. She breathed heavily, eyes bulged out in horror. The girls were still outside, no doubt, in the back rooms, gossiping to each other. She could only pray none of them upset her guest, or even spoke to him. She’d already lost one of them to him. No more.
She’d cried like she had been broken up with, the next two days. In a sense, it was how it felt. While work was work, the girls at work, and even the Madame, had felt like a family for Maxime in the years she’d worked there. They supported her, they visited her at home sometimes, bringing her soup when she was sick, inviting her out to drink - though she never had anything alcoholic -, the nine yards. And now, she lost that. She couldn’t even go to the club to visit them - the old lady made it clear she was unofficially banned with that phone call. She lost her sisters. And she felt like she lost a grandmother. The only one she ever had. Huddled in bed with only her phone for company, she scrolled through her social media friend list, only to see she had been blocked by most of her friends. Were they even friends, if being fired was what led to their friendship ending? Or did the old lady have some massive dirt on all of them? Whatever … she didn’t need them. She didn’t need any of them. She could just find another job, “honest” work, move out, and … And become a hero? What agency would even hire her, knowing she worked as a hostess? Sure, a high-end one, but … with how important public image was in that line of work, she doubted anyone would want to take a risk for her. And she didn’t have the funds to start her own agency. Maybe she fucked up her entire life, then … As if beckoned by her misery, an unknown number texted her. [txt ->: Hello Ms Bellerose. I am contacting you on the behalf of Mr. Shigaraki. Would you like to have dinner with him next Saturday? Please reply within the week. ] Who the fuck was Mr. Shigaraki? She almost blocked the number, before wondering. Could that be the man who cost her her job? She got to typing; [txt <-: Who is Mr. Shigaraki? ] A minute passed. [txt ->: Mr. Shigaraki is the man you met with two days ago. You have made an impression on him, and he would like to invite you out on his next available evening. Do you accept? ] She was oh so tempted to simply send a reply with a middle finger. … Ah, who was stopping her? [txt <-: Image sent. ] There. Now he’d get the idea, she figured. Rolling over in her blanket, she set her phone aside, and lulled herself into a short sleep. An hour or so later, she woke up to a new message, this time from a different number. This one read: [txt ->: So mean to me, princess. What could I have done to deserve such a rude picture? ] Groaning, then snarling at her phone, she reached out and yanked it towards her, typing furiously. [txt <-: Cost me my job.][txt <-: Dipshit. ][txt <-: Also, don't call me that. ] Ding . [txt ->: No promises on that.][txt ->: But I am truly sorry. I didn’t think bringing you home would lead to you being fired.] [txt <-: Well, it did. Thx to you now I’m jobless.] A few minutes passed, and all she had to fill the seconds was the picture of those horrible three little dots, signifying he was typing. Finally, his message sent; [txt ->: Then I think you should have dinner with me Saturday. Let me make it up to you.] … Well, she couldn’t be sad while eating good, she presumed.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The next day was spent moping around the house, looking online for job opportunities, and trying her best to find a career counselor online. In vain on that end, as there were none near her area. Damn it.
She hasn’t heard from Mr. Shigaraki since last night. Might as well, she needed a break from him, and they’d only met up once. She feared how tired out she’d be after a full, sober evening with him.
Maybe she should calm down, maybe that’d help. She needed to be in control of the situation, not thrashing about in it like a fish out of water. Men like him were after girls they could play with and then discard. She would not let him.
She
would play with him.
She
would discard him. A lot of confidence surged in her, contrasting with her dingy environment, standing in a pile of mess in wrinkled socks and a messed up pigtail. A single one, as her hair was too short to make two without much effort.
She sighed, letting herself fall into her couch, and sink into it. Looking out her window, her only view being the brick wall of the adjacent building, she let her thoughts wonder. Maybe … maybe things were not as hopeless as she first thought. Maybe she could still be a hero. And if not, she could resign herself to being a normal salarywoman. Bitterly, sure, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world.
Her phone rang, and she looked down at it. Himiko, from the club. Maxime couldn’t help but wonder if she was even allowed to call her. Was she going against the old woman?
She picked up.
“ Hey Himichan. “
“ Max! Is it true? The old lady fired you? “
“ Way to be kind about it. “
“ Sorry! “ Maxime shifted in her seat, sigh ng as she laid down into place. “ I am! But we’re all curious. How are you doing? “
“ As well as I can. “
A silent pause, during which Maxime looked at her tv screen. News of suspect activities in the club’s area. So it got to the news …
“ You didn’t … ? “
“ What-? Himiko, you know I would never! “
“ But that’s what the girls are saying the old lady fired you for! “
“
She fired me for her fucking establishment!!
”
She yelled that last part, sitting up abruptly. A knock on her wall let her know the neighbor didn’t appreciate it.
“ Sorry, I just … “ she sighed heavily, bringing her hand down to rub over her eyes. “ I can’t believe she threw me away like that … “
“ Max … “
“ … I’m meeting him again on Saturday. “
“ What- Are you serious? You are? “
“ Yeah. “
“ Max- No, you’re kidding? This guy is the reason you lost your job! “
“ Yes, “ she confirmed, getting up and turning off the tv, walking into her kitchen to grab a bite, “ and I’m going to make him pay me back. “
“ What do you mean? “
“ I know his type. Cocky, confident … he wants a doll to play with. But here’s the thing, Himiko - I’m not a fucking doll. I’ll string him along, make him spend money on me, and then, I’ll dump his ass. End of the story. “
“ What if he gets bored of you first? “
“ I won’t let him get bored. “
“ And how do you plan on doing that, genius? “ Himiko’s uncertain voice asked over the phone, as Maxime walked into her bedroom, setting it down on her dresser. She kneeled down in front of it and pulled open a few drawers, looking for clothes for the ‘date’. Was it even a date?
“ I’ll stay interesting. I’ll tease him, but won’t let him have me. I don’t want to sleep with him anyways. “
“ Why not? “
“ I’m … “
Flashes of black hair. Tired eyes. Feet scraping the ground of an arena as they came to a sudden stop.
“ … Saving myself for ‘the one’. “
“ Oddly romantic of you. “
“ Shut up. Anyways, I’ll string him along with promises he can’t reach. Guys like that want a challenge - he’s bored of having it easy. “
“ But what if he gets tired of chasing? “
“ He won’t. And if he does, I’ll just … I don’t know. “
“ Great plan. “
“ Yeah well this is my only meal ticket until I find an actual job. I don’t fucking see
you
trying to convince the old lady to re-hire me! “
“ We both know that’d never happen. “
Maxime stopped rummaging through her clothes, and sighed heavily. Yeah … Obaasan’s word was final in everything she said. There was, truly, no going back …
A doorbell ring.
“ Ah, I’ll call you back, there’s someone at the door. “
“ Wait- ! “
Click
. She hung up before Himiko could protest, getting up with a groan and walking to the front door. She almost peeked through the peephole, but that'd been covered by tape by her years ago. And she wasn’t tempted to take it down. Slowly, the door still chained preventing her from opening it too fast, she opened the door, peeking at whoever rang.
In front of her stood a man, looking to be in his early 30s. Well-groomed, but deeply disinterested in his environment, by the look of him. He was wearing a neat dress shirt and slacks, with a name pin she couldn’t quite make out from her position. He sported deep purple hair, slicked back by gel, she presumed.
“ Who is it? “
“ I believe we’ve been in contact over the phone. I am Mr. Shigaraki’s assistant. “
“ Oh! Uhm, let me just- “
She closed the door in his face, and the rustle of her chain could no doubt be heard by the man outside, thankfully excusing her from being accused of rudeness. Perhaps. Opening the door fully, she moved to the side to let the man in, though he shook his head no. Now, she could see that in one hand, he held a bag, with a name on it: ‘Matsumoto cleaning’. Through the plastic fabric, she could make out some red. Could it be …
“ No thank you, “ he said with a disgusted sneer, looking at the mess inside her apartment. Fair enough. “ I’ve come to return the dress to you. “
“ Oh- It’s already been cleaned? “
“ Of course. Mr. Shigaraki asked them to be quick with it. “
She assumed he must have been a regular at that ‘Matsumoto cleaning’ place. Odd, the name didn’t sound … fancy. Then again, what
would
be a ‘fancy’ name for a cleaning service? Taking the offered bag, she peeked inside. Sure enough, there was the dress, pristine as when it hung in the dress rack in the club’s back room, two nights ago. She pursed her lips, a little hurt, thinking of that night. How the old lady took such great care to make her beautiful, only for her to betray her trust, and force the old woman to fire her to keep her business afloat. As upset and betrayed and hurt as she was, she couldn’t really blame the old lady, she supposed - business was tough in that line of work. And if your entire thing was that you were a ‘clean’ business, you couldn’t then have one of your top earning girls be the subject of prostitution rumors.
“ Well, now that that is done, “ the man began, pulling her out of her reverie, “ I will be going. “
She simply nodded, watching as the man - his pin said Kimura, assumedly his last name - turned around and walked down a few steps. Then, he stopped, turning around to look at her.
“ A word of advice, Ms. Bellerose. Do not wear that dress for the dinner. He’ll appreciate something new. “
“ I’ll wear what I want to. “
He shrugged.
“ Simply advice. “
Then, he walked the remaining steps, and out the complex’s front door.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
She should have expected the car, honestly. It was almost embarrassing she thought she could simply walk or take the bus to the restaurant. Of course not. What would the other rich people think, seeing his date walking by herself up to their posh little neighborhood? Why, he possibly couldn’t endure that! That’s what she thought as she closed her phone, banishing forever the text she had received from “Mr. Shigaraki”. She wondered, almost, if that name was as fake as “Marianne” had been. Well, at least Marianne had basis in reality - a different spelling of her mother’s name. She supposed it wasn’t really … proper, to use her mother’s quasi-name for entertainment work. But she didn’t want to pick up a fake, or worse, japanese name. She was a saltine sister, after all - raised in Japan for her teenage and young adult years, but still a white woman. Not even the pretense of keeping anonymity would save her from the moral police, online, in the news, or in her own mind. Two choices - or rather, dresses - stood - or rather laid - before her, on her messy bed. As she let herself be distracted once again by the wrinkled bed sheets, she faintly remembered reading somewhere that cancer zodiacs tended to make messes out of nostalgia, keeping every little trinket near and dear to their heart, literally. Why she even remembered that was beyond her - she didn’t even really believe in that. Zodiacs, that is. Back to the dress options. She wasn’t rich, not by a mile, or a thousand miles rather, so they were nothing like what she assumed other patrons would be wearing. Why did the dress code have to be formal … couldn’t he just take her to McMickey, or something? Would it kill him to eat a Mcbig? The first dress was black, and fairly simple in style and cut, stopping at mid-thigh length, and with bulky off-the-shoulder sleeves, making her top look like a big rectangle. Modern, she liked it. It hugged her form nicely the few times she wore it. A little too nicely. She wasn’t sure how willing she was to go on a date in a dress that contoured not only her breasts - thankfully not as big as they could have been, still present enough to make her embarrassed - but also her ‘belly pouch’. She knew this wasn’t something she should be self-conscious about - everyone had a little belly, unless they worked out, and even then. It was simply a fat buildup to protect her organs. And yet … she couldn’t tell what she apprehended more; the thought of him looking at her waist in disgust, or in attraction. … Why would that even bother her? She needed him to be attracted to her for her plan to work. So why did the thought of those eyes eating her up and down make her … apprehensive? Like a little rabbit, in front of a wolf? … She almost tossed that dress back into the wardrobe as she came to a horrific conclusion, but paused. The other dress … It was her prom dress. Very fancy, by her criteria: with nice off-the-shoulder sleeves, pearls holding them up and decorating one side of her waist, where the fabric bunched up, then draped down her legs, like a waterfall. It was beautiful, and she was thankful a classmate had helped her pay it off. But … What if it was too much? What if she came up to the restaurant looking like an idiot who hadn’t grown out of high school? … Regretfully, she hung up the burgundy back into her closet, and took the simple, form-fitting black dress. It was simple enough it could pair with the few pieces of jewelry she owned. Jewelry … she grit her teeth as anger boiled under her skin. God, she hoped he didn’t …
Ding!
[ Txt ->: I’m outside. ]
Fuck.
“ You look nice, “ he said politely as he opened the car door for her. She wondered why the chauffeur didn’t - maybe she didn’t know what a chauffeur did very well? Or maybe he just wanted to look gentlemanly. Nevertheless, she smiled pleasantly, though it didn’t reach her eyes at that moment. He chuffed, seemingly amused by it - he must have caught it. “ Thank you. You don’t look half bad yourself. “ She took her seat, and he closed the door after her, walking back around the car and opening his own side, sitting down beside her. He looked at her, and as she had thought, he didn’t waste time letting his eyes linger on her. She couldn’t help slightly shifting in place, embarrassed. “ Are you alright? “ He asked. “ You’re looking me up like you’re about to eat me. “ “ Maybe I am, “ he grinned, all his pearly white teeth showing. She gasped in response, and gently slapped his arm, prompting a hearty laugh from him. “ You pervert! “ “ I’m sorry, you made it too easy. I promise, it’s not my usual humor, “ he stated in-between chuckles, looking at her with eyes so soft she would have thought he was about to ask to cuddle. “ Unfortunately for you, it is mine , “ she replied, grinning back at him. “ You are much more pleasant today, “ he mentioned, smiling, eyes gently squinting in approval. “ To what do I owe the honor? “ “ Good food, hopefully, “ she quipped, smirking at him as she crossed one leg over the other, then her arms together, looking at him smugly. “ I dare hope it will be, then, if this is what affords me a good conversation. “ “ You call this a good conversation? We didn’t even start talking about the ethics of fast fashion. “ “ Don’t you talk to me like that, “ he chuckled, then leaned forward, looking at her with such eyes, she slightly cowed back, eyes wide, “ I might start to like it. “ “ W… Weird topic to get horny on, “ she squeaked, and he chuckled again, pulling back, taking her hand to gently tug her back upwards. “ I apologize - I’m aware I have been very forward with you. “ “ You have. I’m surprised. “ “ You simply don’t seem like the kind of woman who enjoys being strung along for a long time, “ he simply stated. She wondered if his grin ever left his face. Did he sleep with it on? “ I’m attracted to you. What point is there in hiding it? “ “ Don’t you enjoy a good game of cat and mouse? “ she asked, teasing, but genuinely curious at the same time. “ We’ll still be playing it, “ he smirked. The car ride continued in silence for a few minutes. Not uncomfortable per se, but slightly awkward, at least for Maxime, who couldn’t help but wonder if she had to fill that silence. She had been looking out the tinted windows, watching the buildings, sidewalks and pedestrians flash by, but peeled herself away from it to look at him again. “ What do you hope to gain from this? “ “ Mmh? “ he asked, peering up at her. In the time it took them to get talking again, he had leaned his temple on his knuckles, against the windowsill - though his face was still tilted towards her, like he needed to constantly watch her. “ It’s obvious what there is to gain from me in this. You’re rich - I could harp you for anything I could possibly want. But what do you want? Surely you could hire a prostitute if you just needed sex. “ “ How blunt. How crass, even, “ he snickered. “ It’s simple, really - I am a lonely man. “ “ You must cry about it in piles of money at night. “ “ Not quite, “ he smirked, though something in his eyes changed. They became … not quite colder. But they definitely lost their warmth at that moment. He looked at her, but she could tell, it wasn’t her he was looking at. There was someone else before him. “ Every day, I spend it alone. “ “ Don’t you have your staff? “ “ Of course. But having a staff isn’t the same. “ “ They’re people too. “ His noncommittal hum almost made her want to punch him, and forget this entire ordeal in a split second. Up until then, she had been able to ignore how similar he was to … how the albinism, the wealth, the … everything, was so alike to that bastard … but almost insinuating that his staff were not “people enough” for him … “ This isn’t winning you points with me, pal. “ “ I apologize, that isn’t what I meant. What I did mean is, there is a level of … separation, between my staff and I. A professional distance that we keep, and I intend to keep it that way. But ultimately, it has left me feeling alone. I do not have friends to share drinks with, or family to watch movies with. Not anymore. “ She relaxed her grit teeth, looking at him in surprise. They didn’t even begin their date, and already he was mentioning the dead family? Dear god … “ I’m sorry- “ “ Don’t be. It was a long time ago, but I still … don’t like thinking about it. My point is, I would like someone to spend my time with. Someone I can have conversations with, laugh with, the whole ordeal. “ “ Why would you look for that someone in a hostess bar? “ “ Isn’t that where lonely men go, Ms. Bellerose? “ He truly had an answer for everything. The car slowed down, and as she looked outside, she could see they were parking in front of a large windowed building, with the name ‘Kaiseki Kingdom’ in large letters above the entrance. They really named it ‘kingdom’ … “ Ah, we’re here. Please wait here. “ He left the car, and once more, walked around it to open the door for her. In the time it took him to, the valet had started walking up to her side of the car, but was stopped by the abrupt hand movement of Shigaraki, who instead opened her door, holding a hand out to help her out. “ Well. I’m hoping the food will be good enough to convince you to remain by my side a little longer, Ms. Bellerose. “
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
She noticed a faint smell in the restaurant as they walked in. Of course, the smell of food, but something else … Was it cologne? She couldn’t be sure, she was barely rich enough to breathe the air in this place. But it was nice, subtle, and not floral at all, which she appreciated. Too often had she walked into skincare/bath bomb shops only for her nostrils to be so thoroughly assaulted she had to wait for her mother outside. Many could point to her diagnosed disorder for the reason why the smells offended her so thoroughly, but at a certain point, she wondered if certain women simply burnt their nostrils so much on scented candles that they couldn’t even smell the aroma warfare in their favorite boutiques.
Ah, she had gone on in her mind again, and didn’t notice until Shigaraki was escorting her to their table, gestured at by the host. She couldn’t even recall when she had grabbed a hold of his arm. Was it when she left the car?
She walked towards the table, ready to take a seat, and he was, of course, all too ready to pull out the chair for her. She thanked him, and took her seat, as he pushed the chair in before taking his own seat, taking the menu.
“ I hope you’ll forgive me, but I’m going to go ahead and look at their drinks section. “
“ Why would I be upset? “ she asked, genuine.
“ It is considered polite to start a date with some small talk. “
A date … Oh, so that’s what it was, after all. She had debated in her mind the past two days if this dinner was simply him trying to be charming under the guise of paying her back for getting her fired from her job, or if it was an honest to god date.
“ Are you not looking? “ he asked, quirking a brow, though the look in his eyes told her he already knew her answer before she even formulated it in her mind.
“ I don’t drink alcohol. I’ll just have a glass of water. “
“ Interesting. Why, may I ask? “
“ I simply don’t want to, “ she shrugged.
“ You could have non-alcoholic champagne. “
“ What’s the fun in getting your mouth attacked without even getting the enjoyment of alcohol? “
He chuckled, putting down the menu and gesturing for a waiter to come over.
“ So, you do not drink soda? “
“ Soda’s different, “ she protested. “ It tastes good. I smelled champagne once, I know it won’t taste good. “
To that, he honest-to-god laughed, drawing a few glances from other patrons, though they were quick to look away.
“ How do you know from only the smell, Ms. Bellerose? “
“ Doesn’t smell account for a lot of taste? “
“ Mmh, I suppose it does. “
The waiter finally got to them, and Shigaraki ordered their drinks.
“ I think I know why you knew so well about the Rémy Martin, “ Shigaraki said, idly stabbing at his steak with his fork, looking at her.
“ Oh, is that so? “
“ Bellerose - your last name. It is french, am I right? “
“ How observant, “ she teased, taking a bite of her pasta. Maybe steak would have been a good idea to go with, but she didn’t care for it in comparison to good old fashioned carbs. They were a safer food option anyways.
“ Beautiful rose … “ he said, softly, looking at her with lidded eyes. Though she planned to take advantage of this man, she couldn’t deny, he had charms, and she found herself blushing as he translated her last name. “ It fits you. “
Oh.
Blushing
blushing, then.
“ Do you speak french, Ms. Rose? “
“ I do, “ she confirmed, nodding. “ I speak French, English, and Japanese, of course. “
“ Impressive. It seems we have something in common, then. I too speak a few languages. “
“ Et parlez-vous français, mon cher? (And do you speak french, my dear? )“ she teased, twirling her fork into her spaghetti.
He grinned back at her.
“ Pourquoi me vouvoies-tu? (Why do you talk to me formally?) “
Her eyes widened in surprise at his response, and her blush came back with a vengeance, rising up to her ears as her fork scraped the bottom of her plate.
“
oh- sorry!
“ she quickly apologized, after wincing herself, though Shigaraki didn’t even flinch.
“ My question still holds, “ he calmly said, still smiling.
“ It’s polite, “ she simply replied. “ We do not know each other that well. Hell, I don’t even know your first name. “
He smirked, lidded eyes seeming … aflame with something, though light somehow still refused to enter them. It unsettled her still, in a way, despite how beautiful they were.
“ Patience, princess. You’ll learn it eventually. “
“ Why do you even call me that? “ she asked, slightly frowning. “ I’m not into pet names. “
“ It seems fitting, “ he simply replied, gently shrugging. “ I thought about it after you brought up the engraving of Louis XIV on the Rémy Martin. “
“ That makes no sense, “ she pointed out, taking her spaghetti up to her mouth. She swears, he was making this stuff up to justify calling her a little name.
“ Maybe you just look beautiful enough to be one, “ he replied, eyelids slightly dropping as he kept staring at her, with an expression on his face she could only describe as … lovedrunk? No, lovedrunk would be sweeter … yet, his expression
was
gentle … she hated how confusing this man was, honestly.
“ Your attempts at buttering me up are too obvious, “ she pointedly stated, taking a bite of her food and then pointing at him with her fork, swallowing before continuing. “ If you want this ordeal to work, you’ll have to work on that. “
“ I apologize, “ he chuffed amusedly, sitting up from where he had been leaning with his hand on his chin to look at her. “ I suppose I am too used to being pleasant to others. “
“ How noble of you. “
“ I know you’re a smart woman, Maxime, “ he stated, looking at her from the corner of his eye with an amused glint. “ You know what I meant by that. “
She did. To succeed in business, which she assumed was where he was getting his money from, you had to be charming, disarming, and get the people you want in your pocket to like you. Maybe he was simply so used to doing that to everyone around him, he didn’t remember how to talk to her like a person, one on one.
Of all people he could be asking to teach him, why did he have to pick an autistic woman? She almost felt bad for him.
Almost.
“ Do you want dessert? “ he asked.
… She did. Though her curved body was in most part thanks to genetics making her fat accumulate in her hips and thighs, she couldn’t deny having a horrible sweet tooth. Still, she declined, raising her hands up before her to emphasize.
“ I can’t ask you to pay for dessert! “
“ Why not? “
“ It’s an unnecessary expense, “ she explained. Dinner was food, it was needed to survive. Dessert was a treat, she couldn’t justify making someone else pay for it in her stead.
He looked at her again, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“ Princess, you should learn quickly that when it comes to you, no expense is unnecessary. “
Someone save her penny-pinching ass.