Illustration Credit: skyward-shoujo on DeviantArt

Author's Note: Unless I'm missing something, it appears that I can only post thumbnails of my chapter illustrations on this platform. If you would like to see full versions of the illustrations, you can also find this story on Scribble Hub, LiveJournal, and AO3.

Chapter 12: The Headline

Mokuba awoke to an unfamiliar number with a 510 area code lighting up his phone. He picked up. "Hello?"

"Dude, what the fuck happened last night?" a masculine voice raged.

"I'm sorry, you are?" Mokuba asked.

"Joan's husband, dumbass. Michelle." Sarcasm dripped from Michael's pseudonym.

"Shit." Mokuba sat bolt upright and shook Joan's shoulder to wake her.

"Shit is right, you crazy motherfucker," Michael agreed.

Mokuba fought rising panic. "Joan's here. I'm putting you on speaker." Mokuba deftly tapped the screen and held the phone level between himself and Joan.

Joan sat up and yawned, breasts popping over the covers. "What's up?"

Michael's voice filled the room. "Marc called me. Said he couldn't get ahold of you. Facial recognition software or something has you plastered all over Facebook. And there's this big headline: CEO Falls in Love with Whore."

"Ugh." Joan fell back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling.

"First of all, is it true?" Michael asked.

"He didn't say it in so many words, but yeah, it was written all over his face," Joan admitted.

"Shit." Michael fell silent for a moment. "We could both lose our jobs over this. I don't want to have to beg my mom for money again, and I'm sure your mom is going to explode when she finds out. Are the rich boys still paying you?"

"Yes." Joan's cheeks flushed as she met Mokuba's eyes, realizing she'd assumed before asking.

"Definitely," Mokuba confirmed. Not wanting to get between Joan and her husband again, he went mute and merely observed the beautiful woman he'd shared a bed with. No rings adorned her fingers. How was he supposed to know that she was married? Did it even matter? Michael hadn't threatened Mokuba, but he had issued a crude insult. While technically Seto was the crazy one, under the circumstances, Mokuba couldn't argue.

Michael took a deep breath and let it go with a shudder. "All right. We'll get through this. We'll be fine. Are you still doing Seto tonight?"

"Yeah, I think. Um, I need some things. Do you think you could make it out here?"

"Shit, Linda was going to pick me up from work, but this whole thing . . . are you OK? Do you need me right now?"

Joan searched Mokuba's face. There was comfort but not familiarity. "Kinda."

"I can ask Linda to make a detour. Wait, that's probably going to be way later than you have in mind."

Sensing an opportunity to make a good impression, Mokuba broke his silence. "We can send the limo out to you."

"Very cute, rich boy," Michael commented, "I guess it's the least you could do."

They exchanged logistical ideas until they found a satisfactory compromise. In lieu of Roland, Mokuba would pay handsomely for two Hyatt security officers to fend off reporters on their travels. Joan would wear some of Seto's clothes until Mokuba bought her a new dress, or five, as Michael suggested. They would then drop by the club, where Joan could retrieve her purse and Mokuba could retrieve his car. Mokuba would then drive his car home, leaving Joan to forge on without him. She could spend some time with her husband and then collect her things from home.

After everything had been settled, Mokuba emerged from the bedroom to grab Seto's clothes. "What, I can't see my whore naked?" Seto grumbled as Mokuba passed a black silk shirt, a pair of leather pants, and a KC belt through the bedroom door.

Joan attempted to wiggle into the tight leather pants and found they couldn't compete with her hips. "Damn Seto, how do your balls not get strangled in these things?"

Seto shoved the bedroom door open and looked down at Joan, now trying to pry the leather off her thighs. "Because they were designed to impress, not dress, whores like you." He smirked as she struggled.

"A little help here?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Seto kissed Joan and then pushed her backwards onto the bed. He played with the edges of the leather before yanking it off.

Before Seto could re-establish a grip on her, Joan leapt up and darted to a corner of the room.

Seto chuckled and approached slowly. "What's the matter, little whore? Nowhere to run? Why don't you just stop running and stay in bed with me all day?"

A little thrill ran down Joan's spine. The prospect tempted her, but she had already made up her mind to see Michael. Joan saw possibilities branching before her. Now that she knew how Seto felt, should she use that to her advantage or stick to her job description? What if Seto changed his mind about paying her and tried to make her his girlfriend? Both brothers were so hot that she didn't think she could argue with that proposition if either or both presented it to her. She needed more options.

"I can hear you," Mokuba called through the open door, breaking the spell. "Try Roland's pants." A hand holding a pair of black slacks appeared in the doorway.

Seto snatched the slacks and tossed them at Joan. "This isn't over, whore." He turned and left her to dress in peace. Thankfully the pants fit. Joan tucked in Seto's black silk shirt and secured the slacks with the KC belt, then joined the brothers for a room service breakfast.

They ate with sporadic conversation punctuated by awkward silence. Nobody mentioned love or news articles. Instead, Mokuba went over that day's Summit itinerary, assuring himself and Seto that they weren't missing anything important.

"They'll let Roland go without charges on the condition that I pay five million dollars in property damage," Seto reported. "It will cover their lost revenue too."

Mokuba sighed. "I guess that's fair. But you're still going to get some lawyers on it, right?"

"It will be an iron-clad deal," Seto confirmed.

"Good. While you're handling that, I've got to take Joan out to get some clothes and stuff."

If Seto had been eavesdropping on their phone conversation with Michael, he made no mention of it. "All right, be careful." Mokuba and Joan got up to leave. "Wait." Seto stood and walked around the table. He extended his arms and wrapped Mokuba in a tight embrace. "Seeing Pegasus last night . . . just stay away from that rat bastard, OK?"

Mokuba drew back and saw moisture threatening to drip from Seto's eyes. "I will."

Seto noticed Joan's rapt interest in the touching moment. "And whore."

Before Joan's brain could switch gears from ogling the brothers to registering her moniker, Seto's lips pressed hard against hers. He immobilized her against the wall, applying pressure with his entire torso. Sparks radiated through her jaw, spreading to the rest of her body. It ended too soon but left a lasting tingle.

Seto drew back. "Same goes for you."

Joan touched her lips to make sure they were still on her face. "OK, yeah." She stared at Seto until Mokuba grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door.