Hostile Takeover

Make Me Wrong

Their stocks stabilized and Nobunaga questioned himself more every day.

There was a part of him that knew–if only a little bit, only as much as he was willing to allow himself to ponder–that he was getting in over his head somewhere. Texting escalated. Soon they were sending each other wine suggestions, recommendations for music, grousing about unreasonable stockholders. She had a truly delightful assortment of reaction images that she would caption with: Me, when I see Shingen's titty window. His favorite was a gif of Rihanna rolling up her car window.

He enjoyed those texts more than he cared to say.

He'd grown used to fantasizing about her during the Innovator's Conference. That–that was a thing he'd adjusted to, allowed carefully into the well-planned fabric of his life. He hadn't budgeted just thinking of her into that. She crept like a song into his mind, unnoticed until he adjusted and realized just what tune his brain hummed. She hovered on the edge of everything he did.

Where did that leave him? Nobunaga wasn't sure. On the one hand, it was a pretty clear conflict of interest at this point. He wasn't sure what, exactly, had caught him sideways around the neck and dragged him into her. It wasn't just lust anymore. No, not with the way he was thinking.

On the other–well, for one, he'd already locked into the long con. For the second, he wasn't so sure he wanted it to stop.

"You're distracted lately," Hideyoshi commented, frowning at Nobunaga.

"Am I? I feel that I'm getting through my workload just as quickly as before." He replied brusquely.

"Yes, you are. I didn't mean it that way. I just meant that we keep having to repeat things."

"Mmm." Nobunaga exercised his long-practiced skill of pretending to absorb the critique, busying himself instead with studying the papers Hideyoshi had brought. "I see we're doing very well in the data advancement sector. Maybe we should be investing more into that side of the business."

"Really?" Hideyoshi paused, considering that. "I mean, it's not an avenue a lot of banks get into."

"We're not just any bank. I think it's a fair thing to invest more of our time in."

Some nights, he dreamed about that dark mark he'd left on her thigh, and he woke cursing his treasonous brain. It was downright chaste, considering the things they'd gotten up to. But–but–

Why couldn't he shake her?

He was up late one night trying to bury his thoughts deep, deep into a show about flipping houses–and he didn't even like TLC, but he could get into the spirit of yelling at renovators–when she texted him.

You up?

This felt like a trap. He hovered his finger over the keypad before taking the dive.

I could be.

That's not much of an answer, now, is it? But I take it that's a yes? What are you doing?

Nobunaga's pants tightened on reflex. How did she have this much power over him?

Watching goddamn Love It or List It and critiquing the filming choices and poor scripting. Why are you asking, fiance dearest?

Oh my jesus god, Nobu. Lmao. Feel like cutting into a bottle of wine?

Now, this definitely felt like a trap. He could almost feel his shoulder angel and devil wrestling with each other (and weirdly enough, they took the shape of Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide). If he stayed–if he stayed, he kept that safe, secure distance between the two of them, that thin barrier between their ruse. And if he didn't...