Mastermind | Chuuya Nakahara.

EIGHTEEN.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
Number seventy-two.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

               When Aki and Chuuya had returned to the Port Mafia Headquarters, Kouyou had eyed them skeptically. Chuuya had been holding a shit tone of bags, a defeated look on his face, eyes trained on the ground. It seemed that their little bonding experience hadn't really done anything other than put Chuuya in a really bad mood. But what Kouyou didn't know was that he wasn't exactly in a bad mood—no, he was mortified. Repulsed. Embarrassed. He had gotten a hard-on in the middle of a fucking lingerie shop, and not only that, but Aki was more than aware that she was the cause. He had given her ammunition. He swore in his mind that she was the root of all evil.

                Despite it seeming as if nothing had changed between them, Kouyou had decided to let them off the hook—mostly because of how simply deflated Chuuya looked. She had a massive soft spot for the young Executive so she let them go with a warning to behave themselves next time they were at the dining table—or pretty much any time they were around her. She didn't have the patience for their bickering.

                 Once Kouyou was gone, Chuuya had dropped all of Aki's shopping bags on the floor, refusing to carry them to her bedroom. Aki had argued with him that he was already heading in that direction—he was on the floor above her, the last he could do was carry the bags until they needed to split to go to their respective floors. He had told her to fuck off before leaving.

                   That left a pouty Aki to drag her multiple bags up to her bedroom. She had taken the elevator, but it was still a massive pain in the ass. The moment she was inside her room, she left all of her bags by the open door. It was only once she was alone that she realised she hadn't had a single bite to eat. She and Chuuya had been too busy arguing over which place to eat at that they ended up not eating at all. God, he really was interfering with her life—even her eating.

                Deciding she would die if she didn't eat, she headed to the dining room, knowing that food would have been served regardless to if anyone was there. Of course, the Port Mafia members cooked their own meals, but they also had staff that cooked a meal for each of them every night, even if they weren't there to eat it. It was a ridiculous display of money, but it always meant there was food on hand when Aki couldn't be bothered cooking. She also wasn't a very good cook. She even burned toast.

                  Entering the hallway where the dining room was, Aki hummed to herself as she strolled down the hallway. Moments before she reached the door, she heard something that made her halt in the spot, the humming getting stuck in her throat. She could hear voices coming from the dining room, one was quite clearly Mori and the the other—the other was the voice of a man she despised. She felt her eyes grow horrifyingly wide, her body shuddering. It didn't make sense. How could she hear his voice? He shouldn't be there. It should have been impossible.

Her body moving against her will, ramming herself into the doors of the dining room, pushing them so hard that they slammed into the wall. She came to a stop, a lump forming in her throat when she caught sight of the two men sitting at the table. Mori was sat in his usual seat at the head of the table, his chin resting against his folded hands, a content smile on his lips. The man that sat opposite him made her stomach drop and her mouth water. She felt sick. She wanted to throw up.

Mori's head perked up, "Ah, Akira. There you are," He cooed, the smile on his lips darkening. His purple eyes darted to the seat opposite the man she despised. "Please, take a seat. Join us." Aki blinked at him in disbelief. Could he even hear himself? Didn't he realise how ridiculous the situation was?