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Fascination
Chapter 13- Trouble Stirring
"Are you positive?"
"Quite sure, sir," the man responded in a drawling voice while his gold eyes rested lazily on the back of the tall leather chair.
"Well, in that case, we need to extend an invitation. Wouldn't want to be thought of as rude, now would we?" The man in the chair responded with a silky voice.
Zarbon smirked, "Of course not, sir."
"What about Vegita?" A third man spoke up, his tone deeper than the other two and holding note of malicious hope.
The green-haired villain looked at his co-worker, his disgust at the slobbery, obese man easily hidden, and quirked a brow. "What is your obsession with the Saiyajin?"
The much larger man shrugged, "The bastard is cocky. I just like to put him in his place." He commented, a little defensively.
"We'll leave him, for now. He will follow her, I am sure. But first, I want to see Rydack. Surely he knew of this...development with our dear Prince."
Something in the second man's tone sent an unpleasant chill up Zarbon's spine. The green-haired man bowed, "As you wish, sire." He turned to leave.
"And take Dodoria with you."
The beautiful man's elegant brow twitched, but "Of course," was his only response.
The Prince of Saiyajins had stared in shock and frustration at the bedroom door for several moments before turning and heading off into his weight room. His mind whirled while he tried to work the frustration from his body.
What? What?! Where did THAT come from? He didn't even know she was a...a...one of those! He never would have guessed. Not with how she dressed and moved and acted. Kami, what had he gotten himself into?
He slammed the punching bag a bit too hard, causing the rope securing it to the ceiling to snap and it to crash to the floor.
"Kuso...." Vegita ran a hand through his unruly hair. There went that method of release. Still feeling restless, he cast his dark eyes around the room while considering what exercise would be the most distracting. His gaze stopped on a slightly crumpled envelope on the bench.
Furiza's letter. Hell. He'd forgotten all about it. The fighter snatched it up and ripped it open. Obsidian eyes scanned the letter. Excellent. The fights were back on and he was expected there in, he checked his phone, an hour. Kuso!
He should have looked at the damn thing earlier, but he was distracted by that damn onna. Oh well. At least the poor suckers pitted against him would be an excellent outlet for his frustrations. Unfortunate bastard.
Abandoning the rest of his equipment, Vegita left the room and paused outside his bedroom. A short mental debate ensued and ended, leaving him scribbling a quick note on the kitchen counter versus attempting to speak to the short-tempered heiress. The Saiyajin donned his jack, grabbed his keys and left.
At least he could reassure himself that Zarbon would be busy at the fights....
Hunger eventually drew Bulma out of her fuming state and the bedroom. Vegita had left her alone longer than she thought he would. Especially since she essentially kicked him out of his own bed. But a quick peek around the apartment, spurred mainly by her curiosity, showed her he wasn't even there. The blue-haired woman folded her arms and huffed. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or annoyed.
It was then her cerulean blues spotted a paper on the counter. She took it in her delicate grasp and read:
Aoi,
Got called into work. Be out late, don't wait up.
Then there was an ink spot on the paper where the pen had been held while he either hesitated or was figuring out what to write. It continued:
That's not what I meant. We'll talk later.
-Vegita
Bulma's mind lingered on how beautiful she thought his signature was before registering the last bit.
'That's not what I meant.' It's not what he meant!
The heiress smiled to herself. She was so relieved. Despite all her air blowing and confidence, the idea of her inexperience bothering him had shook her badly. Bulma Brief was not accustomed to feeling insecure about anything!
She took a deep breath to help loosen the knot of stress that had formed in her chest and shoved away the flicker of doubt. The blue-haired girl made a conscious effort to focus on food and entertaining herself for the night rather than the mysterious, dark-haired foreigner.
She gathered and heated a concoction of leftovers and settled down on the couch for a night of channel surfing; only to drift off shortly after finishing her makeshift dinner.
It was nearly four in the morning when Vegita let himself into his abode. He was tired, but in a good way. The satisfaction of beating those ninjen punks was better than he thought it would be. A quick glimpse around the apartment told him the woman hadn't left the bedroom. His note seemed untouched and there was no evidence she'd been anywhere else in the place (the woman was clean but not the neatest and didn't clean as she went like himself). The Saiyajin's dark brow twitched.
He trashed the letter and headed for bed, only to realize the door was locked. His brow twitched again, but it was too late to get worked up. "Fine. Whatever," he grumbled to himself as he collapsed on the sofa.
Vegita was awakened abruptly by his cell going off. He opened one dark eye. According to the cable box it was just after eight. He growled and turned over to reach for his phone. Whoever it was was going to be sorry. "By the stars and moon, this better be important!" He snarled into the speaker.
"Vegita, it's Sunny. Turn on the T.V., channel twenty-seven."
The fighter's groggy mind tried to make sense out of what she was saying. "Nani?"
"Channel twenty-seven, now." The seriousness in her voice jarred Vegita awake. He snatched the remote up and did as he was told, sitting up in the process. His dark eyes went wide and the hand holding his cell lowered to his lap, forgotten.
On his screen was the early morning news and they were showing a high school photograph of Aoi. He turned up the volume as the camera went back to a police officer. "Once again, Bulma Brief was last heard from on April 7th. There have been no demands made as of yet. If you have any information, please call the number on your screen."
Vegita hit the pause button. Bulma Brief. She's Bulma fucking Brief? He'd been helping the world's richest and most resourceful man's daughter runaway from home? And they thought she was kidnapped! Of course they do. She's damn Bulma Brief. The man's anger quickly melted when his mind made another connection. Zarbon knows.
The Saiyajin knew that green-haired bastard was up to something! The smug grin he had all night. And Furiza had even seemed please with him. He was a fool to think it had anything to do with the fights.
"Aoi." He called, a bit softly due to his shock. He finally managed to tear his eyes from the screen and look to his bedroom. "Aoi!" He stood and went toward the door. "Onna, we need to go!" He grabbed the doorknob and shook it hard. Finding it still locked and not hearing her on the other side sent his temper over. He stepped back and deftly kick the door in.
"Bulma, we need to-" Vegita stopped and stared. The room was empty and the bed was untouched. She was gone.
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