Hostile Takeover

Targeted

She was a charming little star at the networking events, and Nobunaga couldn't decide if he was more amused or pissed about it. Her laughter was infectious, her manner impeccable, the ice blue dress swirling around her knees with just the right balance of skin and modesty. Worst of all, it seemed genuine. What in the devil had he ever done to her?

It was well into the night before he settled in the couch in the suite, combing through his email one final time on his tablet and finishing a drink. She opened the door and slipped inside herself, taking off her heels one at a time.

"So." Nobunaga calmly deleted his read messages, filing the important ones for later. "Care to advise me on why you seem to have such a personal grudge against me?"

"Hmm?" She looked up, that infuriating, subtle smile still on her lips, and he had an incredible urge to wipe it off somehow. It wasn't even at his expense, but now it angered him. "Whoever said it was personal?"

"It must be." He folded the case shut on his tablet and set it on the table next to his empty whiskey glass. "You don't seem to have half an issue with any of the other attendees, not in the way you so clearly target myself."

"And Takeda, as well as Uesugi." She corrected him thinly, pouring herself a water and crossing nearer. Her lips were dark from wine. "Because, once again, it isn't personal."

Nobunaga scoffed, getting up to face her. "Please, pray tell, illuminate your reasoning for me."

Her brows knit dark. She just lifted the water bottle to her lips and swallowed, drop after drop after drop sliding away. He had half a mind to rip it from her hands and wondered suddenly at himself. These urges weren't like him. At long, long, long last, she drained it and set the empty bottle on the coffee table.

"You know," she started, her voice thin and sharp like a dagger, "when one wants to engage in a serious, productive conversation, one does not usually start like a freight train. It usually comes from a place of understanding."

"Now that, I don't understand," he snapped. "I fail to see why you cannot simply tell me."

"Because." Her voice was elevated, now, too, and neither of them really cared. "Because in order to be receptive to new information, one has to be understanding. It's really very simple."

"Was I not receptive during the panel?"

"Because you were forced to be, I don't see why this is so hard." The Princess looked a strange mix of utterly confused and entirely frustrated. "If you really want to know what my issue with Azuchi and U-T Banks are, if you sincerely wished to understand my perspectives, then that shouldn't be difficult! You're an intelligent man, so why are you acting like a bully?"

He scoffed. "First you call me intelligent, then a bully. Please. An exceptional woman like yourself should know when to pick if she's insulting or praising me."

She glowered at him. "I hate you."

"I hate you."

"You're ridiculous."

"You're impossible."

"It's a shame you're so good looking."

"It's a damn shame you're that beautiful."

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was something else, and he wasn't sure who moved first or started or leaned in, but next thing he knew, he had one savage handful of her hair, yanking her head back, and her nails were buried deep in his shoulder through his shirt, and her lips were like fire. She bit down on his lower lip and he growled, shoving her back against the wall and pinning her wrists there.