"Tsubaki, I love you," he whispered into my ear. I couldn't help but shiver a little as he did so. He placed a light kiss on my neck and I could tell he was smiling, though I was not looking at his face. Toshiro had the most adorable smiles.

"You smell wonderful," he informed me as he placed more and more kisses.

"It's the expensive Chanel perfume," I said humbly.

Toshiro shook his head. "No. The perfume only blocks the wonderful way you smell. But even when you're wearing it, I can smell the real Tsubaki. The real Tsubaki smells like heaven."

I blushed, though I was never one to do so. "I love you too, Toshiro," I whispered quietly.

"I know."

I looked at the Chanel No. 5 on my vanity. It looked like pure liquid gold, swimming in an elegant crystal bottle. I remembered when I was given my first bottle. It was the day I turned twelve, and it was the present I received from my mother. The first present I've ever received from my mother. I had been so happy then, despite the words that accompanied the present, scrawled not in my mother's handwriting by her secretary's. Be a woman that can help our company. That was the message. No birthday wishes. No congratulations. No words of love or affection. Even at the age of twelve, I knew exactly what those words and the perfume meant. It was my job, my role in life, to be a beautiful and obedient wife to a rich man my mother picked out.

I sprayed some perfume. I used to love Chanel No. 5. I loved the way every Chanel store was heavy with the scent of it. I loved the way I felt like a woman every time I wore the perfume. It's strange, the amount of power a simple perfume can give a person. But now, I hated Chanel No. 5.

"Miss Domyoji, your dress is ready."

I turned from the vanity and looked at the big, white wedding dress in front of me. It was made in Paris and specially designed for me. It was a lovely dress, covered with antique ivory lace and pearl beadwork. It had taken six months to make. I wondered how much it cost, how many hours of work was put into it. Before him, I had never cared about cost. If I liked something, I would buy it. It was as simple as that. But he made me realize the value of money, and how it can alter a person's life.

No. I should stop. I promised myself so fervently that I would never think of him ever again.

"Miss, are you alright?" asked my maid. I didn't know her name. My mother changed my maids every three months so that I would never become too attached to any of them. This one looked concerned, as though afraid I would cry. I gave her a small smile. I would not cry today. I don't have any more tears left after last night.

"Yes."

I did not think about him through the whole dressing process. I did not think about him as I put on sheer white stockings. I did not think about him as I put on my snow-white corset, covered with bows and lace. I did not think about him as I donned the wedding dress, nor when my maid placed diamonds around my wrist, more like a prisoner's cuffs than a bride's jewels.

I am getting married today, becoming the wife of someone I've never met in my entire life.

"You look beautiful," said the hairdresser in appreciation.

I looked up into the mirror for the first time. The girl in the mirror looked very pretty indeed. I'm only eighteen. She had long black hair that had been curled to perfection. My mother is selling me. Her eyes were large and smoky, created by top fashion industry makeup artists flown in from New York City. I'm getting married today, and I want to scream from the top of my lungs in horror. Her skin was slightly tanned, and contrasted beautifully with the ivory dress. Married to a man I don't even know.

I nodded and stood up.

"We should leave," one of my mother's secretaries informed me. I looked around my room one last time. A room bigger than Toshiro's entire apartment. I remember trying to run away and escape this room so many times. Now I couldn't bear to leave it.

We make our way to the limo parked outside. Although the Domyoji residence had a hall large enough to fit more than hundreds of guests, we were going to have the wedding at the Aoyama mansion. It was the expressed wish of the Aoyama president. Every member of his family had married from the Aoyama temple, and it was a tradition not to be tampered with. Toshiro and I had always pictured a wedding by the beach. Stop it. I must stop thinking about him before I go crazy. Something else. Anything else. I could feel my throat closing already. Despite my belief that no more tears would flow after I had cried an ocean last night, I could feel the familiar sting. Something else. Anything else.

Takeshi Aoyama. The man I was to marry. His father had a thriving hotel business five years ago that had control over most of Japan. When Takeshi ascended as CEO after his father's death, he expanded the Aoyama Company worldwide. He owned large shares in every hotel chain in the world. Although the Aoyama hotel is not very famous outside of Japan, Takeshi Aoyama liked to control things from the inside. Instead of having a large corporation image like the Domyoji's, he preferred to work backstage. It has served him more effectively than all the publicity my mother seems to think is necessary. Takeshi Aoyama owned most of the hotels in the world, though he used corporate puppets on the surface. He had a monopoly, and if anyone wanted to survive in the hotel business on any hidden corner in the world, they would have to deal with him. Mother had started small with her hotels and when she started to expand, she knew that the only way to do so without being crushed was through Aoyama. He would crush her without even lifting a finger, and my mother realized that he was a worthy opponent. There were very few people in the world that my mother considered to be opponents. Takeshi Aoyama ranked at the top of the list. My mother wanted her hotels to bloom, but she didn't want Takeshi Aoyama using her like a puppet. Therefore, the logical solution was to sell me. I could allow her to expand her hotels without being crushed by Aoyama.

It was hard to know what he controlled, since everything was done through secret contracts and stocks. Mother had done some digging and found out that not only did he control all of the hotels in the world, but that he was also spreading out into different areas. He had recently gained control of many pipelines running through Russia. It was hard to figure out exactly what he was worth, since so much of his fortune was a secret and no one knew exactly what he's investing in, but Mother's sources have confirmed that he was richer than we were. Hard to believe anyonein the world was richer than we were. Tsukasa and I've been brought up to believe that the Domyoji fortune was the world's greatest, and we had to take pride in it.

I had never seen him before. He rarely attends social functions, and I try my hardest to avoid them as well. I know that he's only twenty years old, yet he graduated from University at the age of fifteen, at which point he became the CEO of the Aoyama Company. He was supposed to be a genius. A ruthless genius.

That's all I knew about him. Not much, if you ask me. I knew his wealth. I knew what he controlled in the world and what he didn't. I knew his age and the year he became head of his company. The important, everyday stuff, I did not know about: how he took his coffee, his favorite color, his fears, his dreams, and his hobbies.

"Miss, we've just entered the Aoyama grounds," said the secretary who sat across from me in the limo.

I turned and look out the window. We had just entered a large gate. And then for miles and miles on either side of the road, I could see nothing but dense forests. Apparently the Aoyama's liked their privacy. The road was well paved, and wide enough for several cars. We drove for another twenty minutes, and the landscape changed from forests into open meadows, rolling hills, and even a large lake. If mother had any doubt he was richer than we were, his estates proved it. Although our estates had vast rose gardens and beautiful ornate fountains, it wasn't nearly half as large as his.

Just as I was starting to wonder when we would ever reach the house, I saw it. It was a large mansion, situated perfectly in a valley by a meandering stream. I had never seen a house more happily situated. Was this the prison I would be trapped in for the rest of my life? I would rather be living in a 4 ½ Tatami mat room with the one I love.

"Mr. Aoyama does not live here often," the secretary informed me from behind her dark sunglasses in a monotone voice. I didn't know her name and I didn't want to. They were all spies for the horrible witch known as my mother. "He spends most of his time in Los Angeles and Paris."

I stayed silent as we pulled up towards the house. It was large and made from what appeared to be stone, like a beautiful English castle. Romanesque arches and large windows covered the façade, along with beautifully decorated spirals and statues. It looked refined, without being too ornate.

"What kind of man is he?" I suddenly blurted out. I looked up from the windows, unsure that I had actually voiced that question out loud. I wondered what was going on with me. Actually making conversation with one of her evil spies?

But the woman looked at me with a little sadness in her eyes and I wondered if she was a mother as well. She certainly looked old enough to have a child, and I wondered how she felt if her daughter was sold for hotels. With celebratory joy, as my mother did? She looked around the limo, though we were the only two occupants in it. The bodyguard was sitting in the front seat with the driver, though a partition was put up between the front of the car. They could not hear our conversation.

She cleared her throat and spoke faster than I've ever heard her speak before, her eyes shifting around the limo as though she was afraid there were cameras there. "Please do not tell the president I've told you this. She does not want you to know. The reports that were given to you about Mr. Aoyama were correct, but they were not all we've found out about him. He is a character shrouded in mystery and considered to be a very cruel man by those who've dealt with him. He is ambitious and ruthless. The sources say that he is willing to do anything to get what he wants. He has demolished homes, fired thousands of people, and apparently dealt into illegal operations, without even blinking. He's known to be stone cold, without any emotions. That is why the president is so keen for you to marry him. If it had been any other man, she would've dealt with him herself, whether he had a monopoly of hotels or not. She enjoys a challenge. But this man is different and I've never seen the president afraid of anyone or anything. She's afraid of him though."

Then she stopped, because the car lurched to a stop. I gaped at her, unsure of what to think. A man evil and cruel enough to make even my mother scared? What kind of monster was he?

We climbed the long stairs to the large double doors that stood five times as tall as I and wide enough for a car to pass through. I wondered how many people it took to open it. We went into the halls, where servants were moving about. It was covered with marble, from ceiling to floor, with large marble pillars running along the length of it. Statues, paintings and a beautiful crystal chandelier adorned the marble. I gasped in wonder, despite the fact that I had seen more wealth than most of the people in the world. This place was like a museum, and the painting that hung right next to the door was worth more than the entire left wing of our mansion. I wondered again how rich this man was.

A butler bowed deeply to me. "We are honored by your presence, madam."

I froze. Madam. I was as good as married to these people. At the age of eighteen, I was already a madam. I shivered involuntarily.

The butler led our party, which included me, the secretary, three body guards, a hair dresser, two makeup artists, and six servants, down a large corridor to the left and after walking for at least five minutes, we stopped in front of a large, beautiful wood door. Cherry if I'm not mistaken. He opened the door to reveal a large room, once again, covered from floor to ceiling with marble.

"You're late," my mother said from an ivory white upholstered chair. It looked eighteenth century French.

She was dressed immaculately in a Chanel suit, an eggshell color that matched well with the wedding dress I wore. No one would doubt that she was the mother of the bride. I wondered for a second where Tsukasa was. He had been asked to attend, although my father was still in New York. Not even the wedding of his only daughter could get him to leave work.

I sighed as I was ushered into a chair at yet another vanity. My makeup was retouched, my hair restyled, and my shoes cleaned again in case it had attracted any dirt.

"The entire Domyoji fortune lies on your shoulders, Tsubaki," my mother said from her chair, sipping champagne and looking at me through the large mirror from the vanity.

"And what do I care for the Domyoji fortune?" I bit back.

My mother's eyes narrowed. I hated it when she did that, because a part of me was still seven years old and terrified of my mother.

"You care because your brother's future depends on it. Our entire family's future depends on it. Always remember that."

I sighed. I had heard this speech more times than I could count. "I think Tsukasa would live a better life without this so called fortune. It's a curse."

"You have specific obligations when it comes to privilege. It's what you're born into. No one's life is fair."

"Can we save the prep talk for another time? I've already agreed to marry him," I informed her dryly. She stood up and for a second there, I thought she was going to come over and hit me, as she used to do. Instead she smiled that evil, malicious smile of hers and walked towards the windows. It afforded a breathtaking view of a garden courtyard. I was surprised to see a Japanese styled garden in the middle of this Western house. It looked so out of place, in the middle of all this marble. A koi pond was in the middle, and a small bamboo pavilion was set in the middle of the pond. I assumed it was accessible by a small bridge, since the large shrubs blocked the view. It looked relatively homey in this sea of cold, intimidating marble.

"I'm glad to see you've grown up enough to accept your responsibilities. Be sure not to make a fool of yourself today. Takeshi Aoyama is richer and wields more power than I had thought," she said pensively, the smile falling off of her face.

I wondered too if my mother knew what she had gotten me into. Takeshi Aoyama. What kind of man could he be?