AN: Edited by the lovely prettyinpinkgal. Pardon the OC. Also, yes, I view alcohol as a funny plot device.

... Drink responsibly. Especially in the presence of a multibillionaire.

Taming the Shrewd

Chapter One – The Red Carpet Treatment

Masumi had a habit of dividing people into categories, such as "CEO", "Musician" and "Parent", accounting for all of their quirks by placing them into subcategories, such as "Temperamental CEO", "Fickle Musician" and "Anxious Parent". He knew that this practise was frowned upon, but justified it by the fact that while other, less insightful, individuals might only place one label on their fellow men, he made use of at least two dozen per person.

In the subcategory of "Difficult to deal with", "Actors", or more specifically, "Actresses", topped the list. They were completely illogical, lived in a world of their own and were impossible to argue with, as they would just start yelling and throwing things at you until you went away. Following close behind, however, were "Directors", which was why Masumi was less than pleased to find out that he was going to have to babysit one for an indefinite amount of time.

"And exactly why do I have to take care of this director woman?" Masumi asked Mizuki, his red rimmed eyes emoting negative intent more effectively than usual. It's amazing how much a fourteen-hour work day can help you in expressing the will to murder.

"Don't kill the messenger, sir," Mizuki said, raising her hands in surrender. "It was your father who made the decision. He's worried that he might outlive you, at the rate you're working."

"That's touching," Masumi snorted, "but what's the real reason?"

"Anna Kusano, a.k.a. 'that director woman', is coming all the way from America to do a project with Daito. Master Hayami felt that you would be the best man for the job of welcoming her, as well as representing Daito."

"And perhaps he was hoping she'd be so smitten with me, she'd stay in the country long enough to direct another feature for Daito?" Masumi leaned back with a sigh. "Sometimes, I feel I'm nothing more than a glorified escort..."

"You'd certainly be a high class one, were that the case," Mizuki said, in an effort to be both comforting and annoying. "I doubt all that many escorts are paid in ten digits."

Her endeavour was successful; Masumi glared at her while smiling, before rising to stretch out the numerous kinks he'd developed.

"I guess I've been neglecting the social side of this job lately," Masumi admitted. "Besides, this Kusano person might prove to be a bit more interesting than the usual sort of woman my father tries oh-so-subtly to set me up with to further Daito. When am I supposed to meet with her?"

"Now, preferably. She's waiting down in the bar for you."

"Now?" Masumi gave up on trying to knead out the rock hard knot of tension in his shoulder. "Why now? Why wasn't I told about it before?"

"Because it wasn't possible to tell you until now. She was supposed to arrive tomorrow, but apparently she became restless and decided to take an earlier flight."

"Then I'll just see her tomorrow, when I'm more prepared. Tell her I'm sorry, but I'm currently neck deep in reports."

"I'm sorry, sir, but that's impossible. You see, Miss Kusano asked if you weren't too busy to see her, to which I had to reply that you had worked so much this last week, you were months ahead of the rest of the entertainment world."

"You really did think of everything, didn't you?" Masumi growled. "Fine, I guess I have to see her, but you must brief me on her personal and professional history on the way down to the bar. If your information is lacking, and I'm put into an awkward position because of it, then I get to deduct the cost of our drinks from your pay check. Understood?"

"Understood," Mizuki said. She might've flinched at that threat, as Daito's company bar was notoriously expensive, if she hadn't known that Masumi had no intention of fulfilling it.

With a gloomy exhalation, Masumi retreated into his private bathroom to splash cold water onto his face to remove its dismal expression and to change into a new, crisp suit.

"You clean up nicely, sir," Mizuki remarked as he emerged.

"Let's just get going, alright? Before I fall asleep."

To give Mizuki more time to talk about Anna Kusano, they took the stairs instead of the elevator. Apparently, Anna Kusano was born from a Japanese mother and an American father. While she'd spent her first five years in Hokkaido, her father had found a lucrative job in his home country, and so, the family had moved to New York. As one might've guessed, her father was a movie director, and Kusano had followed in his footsteps. She became famous for her versatile style, directing everything from romances to thrillers, historical dramas to comedies. Moreover, she was often featured in gossip magazines, as she had a tendency to date the lead actors of her movies, who were more often than not at least five years younger than her.

"So I wouldn't be a potential target for her, would I?" Masumi said, stifling a yawn.

"On the contrary; you would be an exemplary pray," Mizuki cheerfully replied. "She's 38, and she has a weakness for handsome, clean-shaven men. I'm sure you'll get along just fine."

Masumi shuddered as he adjusted his tie.

"Thank God that I've perfected the art of rejecting women without them knowing it," he muttered. "If she touches me inappropriately, I demand you come rescue me."

"Maybe you should just try going with the flow for once, sir, and see where it takes you. You might enjoy it."

"If I ever feel like turning my already complicated life into a vortex of chaos, I'll be sure to follow your advice. As it is, I shall maintain my celibate lifestyle, no matter how fascinating and liberated she might be."

To his credit, Masumi's determination to keep things strictly professional only wavered slightly when he saw just how fascinating and liberated Anna Kusano really was, whereas other men would've abandoned it completely. She was sitting at the bar in a distinctly provocative manner, her long, black hair trailing down her partially naked back.

"Miss Kusano, I presume?"

She looked up from her gaudy, fruity drink at his greeting, her lips already armed with a smile.

"That I am," she said, reaching out her hand to Masumi. "And you are, I presume, Mr Hayami?"

He didn't like the way she was eyeing him, but he accepted her hand and the seat beside her nonetheless.

"At you service," he said, the shape of his mouth expressing friendly professionalism. "I hope your trip from New York was pleasant?"

"Top notch," Kusano assured him. "I had one of the best naps of my life on the plane here."

Sleep, Masumi thought longingly, but he hid his envy impeccably.

"I'm glad to hear it. Let me welcome you on Daito's behalf by paying for your drink, as well as any future refreshment you might feel like ordering here."

"Oh, thank you! You're really much too kind. Judging by the quality of this drink, however," she took a blissful sip of her tall glass, "I'll make good use of your offer. You'll probably come to regret making it in the end."

Thank god, Masumi thought, she at least has a sense of humour. Maybe this won't be complete death after all.

"Not at all," Masumi said. "I'm only too happy to be of service to someone who appreciates the excellent work of Daito's bartenders as much as I do."

"Then I'll drink to you, Mr Hayami," Kusano said, raising her glass. "And to you, Kenji, the best bartender of this hemisphere."

"Thank you, miss," the aforementioned bartender said, bowing his head. "You flatter me far too much."

"Ah," Kusano sighed, "this is what I love about Japan. Polite bartenders. Why don't you order something, Mr Hayami? It's so lonely to drink alone."

Masumi wouldn't have minded a good glass of something extra potent, but as he hadn't eaten in four hours and hadn't slept in far too long, he figured that even the smoothest of spirits would knock him out like a whiff of chloroform.

"No, thank you," he politely declined. "I like to keep a clear head when making new acquaintances."

"Really?" Kusano said, her earrings jingling as she tilted her head inquiringly. "It's a shame. You look like you'd be fun inebriated."

As no one had ever said that to Masumi before, he didn't quite know how to respond. He settled on the quip, "You'll have to verify your theory some other time," which made Kusano chuckle. It was strange, but even though he was sleep deprived, starved, lovelorn and lonely, he felt next to nothing at making a beautiful woman like Kusano laugh.

Oh, shorty, he thought, smiling genuinely for the first time that evening, you've truly ruined me for other women.

"But now," Kusano said, playing with the miniature umbrella from her drink, "down to business."

Never before had Masumi been more grateful to hear that phrase.

OXOXO

Mizuki found Masumi dead asleep on the sofa in his office the following morning, still dressed in his suit. It wasn't the first time she'd found him in the same position, so she simply walked up to him, shaking his shoulder.

He jumped into lucidity, saw who had disturbed his sleep, and growled.

"Never patch me up with any damn director again," he told his secretary sourly, rubbing his eyes free of sleep. "She kept me up until one. That's two hours of watching her eyes slowly lose focus, all while enduring her mixing professional propositions with decidedly less than professional propositions. It. Was. Hell."

"Really, sir?" Mizuki said, smiling as her innocent inquiry made Masumi snarl. "Rumours state that she's quite charming."

"She might be charming, but she's not worth losing two hours of precious sleep over."

"You were going to spend those two hours working anyway, sir. You'll at least admit that Miss Kusano is more appealing than paperwork."

"Paperwork doesn't make improper advances. Paperwork is therefore to be preferred."

"Maybe you would enjoy being hit on better if you hit back?"

Masumi precariously rose from his position on the couch, wincing as a variety of things popped and squeaked.

"What exactly are you trying to suggest, Mizuki?" he asked, even while knowing and disliking the answer.

"I merely think that you should try what life has to offer," Mizuki said, "which includes a meaningless flirt with an exotic director. It would make a fresh change from wallowing in misery over a potentially doomed romance, don't you think?"

Masumi grimaced, but this time, his pain didn't stem from his abused limbs.

"I know I haven't exactly been... cheerful lately," he began.

"You haven't been cheerful in over twenty odd years," Mizuki corrected him.

"Yes, well, I know I've been even more dismal than usual lately, but I hardly think a liaison with the most flirtatious woman in the world is going to help remedy that."

"It might, sir. You won't know until you try, do you?"

"I'm sure it won't. You see, in order for a sordid affair to be the least bit rewarding, you actually need to feel some kind of attraction for the one you're going to get sordid with."

Masumi could tell by Mizuki's eyebrows that her eyes widened at his statement.

"You didn't feel attracted to Anna Kusano?" she asked him. Her tone, coupled with her arched eyebrows, made it amply clear that she didn't believe him.

"Not in the least. She spent the last half hour latched against my arm, and all I was fantasizing about was gnawing my arm off and escaping to the blissful land of sleep. In fact, that's still all I can think off, minus the arm part, of course..."

"But you must feel something for her," Mizuki protested. "Even I felt a little bit attracted to her!"

"While that is very exciting to hear, it doesn't have any effect on my feelings for her at all, especially since I have none."

Mizuki wondered if she should be sad, happy or impressed. "Maya really has a firm hold on you, doesn't she?"

"I can hardly breathe because of it, let alone pick up other women. Sorry to disappoint you, Mizuki. I'm sure you were looking forward to selling the inside scoop on my and Kusano's tawdry affair to the tabloids."

"... Well," Mizuki said, taking the suit jacket Masumi was using as a blanket, ignoring his protests, "in that case, there's only one thing you can do."

"And what's that?" Masumi muttered, rubbing his cold arms, mentally adding "you cruel shrew" to the sentence.

"Confess to Maya."

All that could be heard was the clock's ticking and the occasional crack from Masumi's bones.

"I'm sorry?" Masumi finally said, half-convinced, half-hoping, that he had simply misheard Mizuki. "What did you say?"

"I said," Mizuki leaned down over Masumi, raising her voice, "confess to Maya. If you're not interested in anyone else, it's only logical that you should pursue her, right?"

"I agree with you," Masumi snatched back his jacket, "but here's the thing: Maya hates me. That's a poor setup for wooing, you must admit."

"Then give her a reason not to hate you. Tell her the truth; that while you're responsible for a great amount of suffering, Tsukikage would probably be dead and she wouldn't even have a career if it wasn't for you. I'm sure she's a good enough sport to at least hear you out after that."

"You're mad," was Masumi's indelicate reply. "Utterly mad. She would only start alienating Purple Rose as well as me if I told her. I have to make her feel as though I'm not the anti-Christ before I attempt anything of the sort."

"You could just say you're scared."

"Very well; I'm scared, because I know that she won't accept me as Purple Rose as things are right now. End of discussion."

Mizuki just raised her chin, as if to elevate herself above her employer, and walked over to his desk, tidying it up. Masumi breathed a sigh of relief; a five-minute argument with Mizuki was far more taxing than a fourteen-hour work day. He covered himself with his jacket and was about to go back to sleep, only to realize that it was impossible. He was wide awake, aching and eager to find something to distract himself from the fact that Mizuki was far wiser than he was.

She should try being madly in love with a teenager who hates her guts, he thought darkly, rolling off the sofa and onto his feet. Let's see how logical she'd be about it.

"Oh, sir," she called out to him, as he dragged himself towards the bathroom, "I forgot to tell you: you've got this week off."

Masumi murmured something unintelligible, closing the bathroom door behind him. It wasn't until after he'd washed his face and was preparing to shave that he truly processed what Mizuki had said.

He stuck his head out, half of his face covered in frothy shaving cream, and asked his secretary:

"Eh?"

"You've got this week off," Mizuki reiterated.

"I don't remember requesting time off."

"It was Master Hayami who felt you needed a vacation."

"Oh, god," Masumi groaned, slumping against the doorframe; "he wants me to go sightseeing with the director woman, doesn't he?"

"Well done, sir. You got it in one."

"But I don't want to! Doesn't that mean anything? I'm 29; I should at least be free to choose when I bloody go on a holiday and who with!"

"Your father is only asking you to keep her company for three days. Today, he wants you to have lunch with her. Tomorrow and the day after that, he wants you to attend the Drama Festival with her. After that, she's no longer your problem, so the rest of the week, you're free to do as you wish."

"Oh, yes," Masumi muttered, retreating back into his bathroom to finish his hygienic task, "I feel so much better being forced on a mandatory holiday, now that I know I will get a whole four days for myself. So, how long has this 'vacation' been in my schedule?"

"Since the beginning of May, I believe."

"It's so nice to have such an open, democratic relationship with your father. Damn the fact that people for some reason find me appealing. If I was plain, he'd never send me on these ridiculous outings."

"I'm sure Miss Kusano appreciates you for your personality, and not for your looks."

"Yes, because I'm such a wonderful, together person, who radiates serenity and is at peace with himself and the world at large."

"Just keep up the sarcasm, sir. That'll douse any woman's passion."

"Thank you, I shall."

As he was arranging his tie with experienced ease, he thought about the hell that was the next three days. Truth be told, he didn't dislike Kusano as vehemently as he'd like Mizuki to think. Sure, she was utterly unprofessional, none too adept at reading body language, and without a proper set of boundaries, but at least she wasn't as mind-numbingly boring as the daughters of some CEO/magnate/politician or other that he was usually forced to entertain. He had, however, felt less than enthusiastic about the careless way she kept invading his personal space without invitation.

Guess I know how shorty feels with me, he thought wryly, dabbing cologne on his wrists, rubbing the excess amount off on his neck. But I decline to learn anything from the experience.

"When am I scheduled to have lunch with that woman?" he asked his secretary, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. "I've no more extra suits stashed in the office, so I'd greatly appreciate going home to change."

"As it's," Mizuki checked the clock on the wall, "ten to twelve, and you're scheduled to meet Miss Kusano in the lobby at twelve, I should think that you'll have to beget getting a clean suit."

"I had a sneaking suspicion that that would be the case," Masumi grumbled, pulling on his suit jacket. "It's just going to be one of those weeks. Hopefully, my smell will discourage her from making any improper advances."

"One can imagine that it would," Mizuki said, smiling helpfully.

Masumi glared at her, muttering as he buttoned up his jacket:

"Remind me again: exactly why haven't I fired you five times over?"

"Because the chances of you finding another secretary who's willing to rearrange your entire schedule to give you time to go tease a girl are slim to none," Mizuki said. "There," she straightened his collar, ignoring his warning growl; "you look perfectly presentable. But unfortunately, the cologne you're wearing is covering up all undesirable odours quite admirably."

"Damn the fact that I have excellent taste in cologne," Masumi said, his face turned to the ceiling, as though he was cursing whatever god that had bestowed him with so many attractive qualities. "Anyway, during this 'vacation', feel free to call me about whatever problem that might hopefully occur in my absence."

"I would never be so rude as to disturb you on a date," Mizuki said, splaying her hand across her chest, as though she was offended by the mere notion. "Please, do not worry that I will interrupt; Miss Kusano will have you all to herself this afternoon."

"I loathe your very core," Masumi called over his shoulder as he walked out of his office.

"Have fun, sir," Mizuki chirped, secure enough in her position as Masumi's secretary to dare to wave at him.

Masumi entertained dark, dark thoughts as he made his way to the lobby, scaring the wits out of two office ladies and three assistants. Even though he felt he would enjoy Kusano's company far more when she was sober, he knew that being with her would invariably make him think of all the things he didn't want to think about: his father's complete disregard of his integrity and the fact that Maya probably wouldn't even care the slightest bit even if he took Kusano up on her less-than-wholesome suggestions.

He managed to wipe the snarl off his face by the time his elevator had reached the ground floor, and was smiling impersonally when he approached Kusano, who was sitting on one of the sofas in the lobby.

"Miss Kusano," he said, reaching out his hand to her, helping her onto her feet, "we meet again."

"Good day, Mr Hayami," Kusano said, looking more upbeat than anyone who'd drunk three Piña Coladas and a White Russian the night before had any right to be. "I hope I didn't embarrass myself too much yesterday?"

"Not at all," Masumi lied, putting on a fake expression of surprise. "I was greatly entertained by your Betty Davies impression."

His dislike of her was mollified as she blushed, grimacing at the hazy memory.

"I'm really sorry," she said. "I'm usually not that much of a bother, but I've no head for alcohol and it's been a long time since I've been able to enjoy a quiet moment with an interesting man."

"It's alright," Masumi said, slightly more sincere this time. "You're a charming drunk."

Kusano laughed, covering her face with her hands.

"I don't think I believe the slightest bit in that," she said, taking the arm he offered her, "but thank you for trying."

"It was nothing," Masumi assured, leading her towards the entrance. "We'll just have to make sure to order you mineral water instead of..."

Kusano glanced up at Masumi as he trailed off, about to ask him to finish his slight, when his expression made her forget everything else. He was staring straight ahead, his eyes wide and his features unreadable, yet somehow incredibly expressive. Then his lips parted into a brilliant, genuine smile, his voice light and youthful as he cried out:

"Shorty!"