Trouble [Hector Doyle x OFC]

Trouble

Warning: This has absolutely no real direction, other than being smut. It haunted me in my dreams until I wrote it.

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With the inmate breathing down the back of her neck, Minatsuki knew in hindsight it had been a mistake to refuse the offer from Mr. Tokugawa to go home early. But she desperately needed the money.

She'd been working overtime at the underground arena for a week now, trying to collect enough money to pay her landlord back for extending her rent. It wasn't the greatest occupation, but it was easy money; sweeping the stands and cleaning up whenever there was a fight.

Honestly, she was grateful for her new job, and the kindness Natsue Orochi showed her by convincing her husband to find one for her – Mr. Tokugawa and Doppo were close friends she was told. This is why Minatsuki was happy to swab the floor of the entrance ramp; she already finished two of the four before she noticed her boss center stage of the octagon.

He was standing with a tall man – unmistakably a foreigner – who she had never seen before. A logical guess was that he was the old friend Mr. Tokugawa said he was going to lunch with, but Minatsuki, being honest with herself, doubted the old man had many friends that she didn't already know about. She mopped closer to the entrance of the ramp in hopes that she could satiate her curiosity by overhearing their conversation, which is why she didn't hear the footfalls behind her until the person they belonged to leaned forward and tapped her on the shoulder.

"I believe you are in the wrong place at the wrong time," a soft English voice stated.

Minatsuki gasped in shock; her entire body shivered uncontrollably. Their breath – which smelled of sake – on her bare neck brought goosebumps to her skin. She didn't understand exactly what she was feeling, just that whoever this person was brought her into a state of panic. The helpless, young woman couldn't even compel herself to speak, not even when the stranger leaned into her and whispered into her ear.

Her eyes widened. Did she hear them right? He – she told herself – was asking her if she was the person who could give him what he wanted. This made her stomach churn with dread. Not only did she not know what he wanted, Minatsuki also didn't know what he meant. Was he being a pervert, or was this some kind of western phrase she didn't understand? Either way, she furiously shook her head no.

He blew into her ear, unintentionally causing her to stiffen. She was embarrassed to admit that the action felt almost pleasurable.

"No," he restated softly. "Then you should leave before you get yourself into trouble."

Again she shook her head. She couldn't, not yet. Mr. Tokugawa might not like her leaving in the middle of a job, even if he offered her to leave in the first place. Opening her mouth to speak, she felt her throat constrict before she even got the first word out, taking a crack at the English she learned in middle school. "Not yet. I h-have to finish."

Minatsuki took a wobbly step forward and spun around, clutching the mop handle against her chest. Her narrowed eyes met his with an irritated gleam. "Better yet ... you leave. I just mopped this floor and your tracking I don't know what all over it."

The red headed foreigner widened his eyes and diverted them to his feet, lifting a boot. He was indeed tracking mud on her clean floor. "My apologizes. I didn't see a sign."

Because there isn't one. She hadn't put it up yet. Minatsuki, feeling embarrassed, averted her attention; the westerner made her feel like a trapped mouse waiting to be devoured. "I should finish up. If you'd be so kind as to move, I'd appreciate it."

He thankfully did as told and moved around her. She didn't have to look back to know where he was going – it was obvious. His business was none of hers, and so Minatsuki continued to mop, trying her best not to get involved with whatever was going on behind her.