Chapter 14: NDA

Joan met Michael at the rustic brewery where he worked. When Michael wasn't tending the vats and monitoring their contents, he waited tables for the restaurant side of the establishment. His boss expressed indifference to Michael's personal life and hadn't mentioned anything about the article, so Michael met Joan in the front parking lot on his break. He'd calmed down a lot since the initial shock of seeing Joan's smeared mascara on the internet.

Seeing Michael helped Joan get her head on straight. Ever since she found out about Seto's condition, she'd been wondering if she could fall in love with him too, if the same would happen with Mokuba, if the two of them could give her everything she ever wanted, if she would have to give up what she already had for that. Kissing Michael reminded Joan how it felt when the feelings were mutual, completely secure in the knowledge that he would not only support her when she needed it but that he also trusted her to make the right choices for their mutual benefit.

The presence of the bodyguards disturbed Michael, making him suspicious that Kaiba had designs on locking Joan away if she tried to make a run for it. However, after hearing about the Hyatt's mob of reporters, Michael agreed it was the right course of action. The guards melted into the background, and Michael forgot their presence.

"If this escort thing takes off, I could be a stay-at-home dad," Michael said when he learned about the valet. He felt reassured knowing that, despite how bad the publicity initially seemed, it could have an upside. By the time Joan kissed Michael goodbye, she was excited to get back to work.

When Joan got home, she put her phone on charge while she gathered her things. She decided to pack not only for the evening with Seto but also for the weekend she had planned with Michael – the other Michael, the squirrely 19-year-old whose girlfriend had talked him into trying out polyamory.

Joan also took a shower and applied some makeup. She kept it light, remembering how badly it had smudged after the club and how Seto didn't seem to mind when she wore none at all. She wanted to be prepared in case of paparazzi, though. Pegasus might send out goons in an attempt to prove the "crack" aspect of his story and she couldn't afford to present herself as a hobo.

Clad in one of the dresses she'd selected with Mokuba, Joan slung her stuffed backpack and purse over one shoulder and got back into the limo. She turned on her phone, turned off Clockify, and checked her text messages. There were a few from Marc during early morning, shortly before Mokuba had received Michael's call. Marc hadn't even known that Joan and Mokuba were at the club until Laura had calmed down from the panic that the entire club had been thrown into after the gunshot, and by then he'd felt it was too late to return Mokuba's call. She thanked Marc for his concern and explained why she hadn't been able to access her phone until now.

Joan skimmed over some texts from Michael, some from various friends, some from her mom, and some from her boss. Joan's friends merely asked if she was all right. Her mom begged her to come back to church. Her boss wanted her to take some time off to take care of herself, but she apparently wasn't fired . . . yet. She'd edited with the publisher three years and had recently been promoted, but given how rarely she saw her managing director face-to-face, she couldn't gauge his opinion on her situation.

Then Joan received a text from the other Michael saying he couldn't do this anymore, that he'd given polyamory a fair try and it just wasn't for him. Joan sighed. Thankfully she hadn't grown too fond of the other Michael. She'd spent more time with that Michael than she had with Marc, but the spark had never ignited with the other Michael the way it had with Marc. Besides, she had bigger things to think about than someone she never truly loved.

Joan deleted her upcoming date with the other Michael from her planner and scheduled lunch with her mom on Saturday. She assured all her friends that she was fine and she still planned to visit them the following weekend for the Blooming Planet Festival.

Then Joan logged into Facebook. 68 friend requests and over a thousand private messages registered on the display. She read one of the messages. "Seto doesn't love you and never will, you gross stanky skank! He's not that kind of man. You're lucky he even bothered to save your pathetic life. Stop wrecking homes and buy yourself a clue!"

Joan groaned. Fangirls. She skimmed a few more messages and began blocking people. Then she saw the first explicit death threat. Flashbacks from her internship five years ago flitted through her mind. Tacks in her chair. Urine in her coffee cup. Snuff porn downloaded on her computer when she forgot to log out before lunch. Intimations of worse. Her hands shook and her head throbbed.

The limo reached its destination and Joan looked up at the towering Hyatt. She was going to the top floor tonight, not any of these jealous bimbos. Anger blended with her fear. These girls who had never even touched Seto Kaiba were claiming ownership over him. Joan didn't claim to know the man too well herself, but one thing she did know: Seto Kaiba appreciated experience and skill. He could have the blind devotion these girls offered any day of the week. He'd probably grown bored with girls like that. Teenagers. Virgins. It's because I'm not like them, Joan thought before a similar phrase struck her. It's because I'm brown, Marc's voice popped into her head. Calm down. I'm here now.

Joan watched as the security officers got out of the limo and surveyed the area. This was their turf. They knew what to look for. They gestured for her to get out and she followed them, repeating Marc's words to herself all the way up the elevator and through the hall until Seto answered the knock on his suite door.

Seto froze when he saw the grave look on Joan's face. She closed the door before the bodyguards could follow her into the room, strode past Seto, and dropped her bags on the coffee table.

"Whore?" Worry and confusion edged Seto's voice.

Joan brought up the death threat on her phone, pivoted, and slapped it into his hand. "Do you have someone on your staff who can screen my inbox?"

Seto read the message and his eyes grew stormy. He gripped the phone so tightly that the screen cracked. He looked up and Joan could swear she saw a blue inferno raging in his eyes. "Roland is on his way back. He'll get someone on it. Someone with an NDA."

Joan knew the acronym stood for non-disclosure agreement. "Good. Let me know if there's anything worth reading."

"We'll need your login information." He could always hack into her account or have it hacked, but this would be faster and less hassle.

Joan seized a hotel notepad and recorded the information in short, stabbing strokes. She dropped the notepad on the coffee table. "We fuck now." Joan wasted no time peeling off her dress and tossing it aside. Her simple red lingerie screamed to be taken off.

"Now?" Seto wanted this more than anything, but it wasn't the way he had envisioned their next assignation. Still, the dragon in his pants roused from its slumber.

Joan yanked the broken phone out of his grip and tossed it atop the notepad. Blood dribbled down his wrist from a sharp shard that had been dragged across his palm, but Joan ignored it. She sank her teeth into his lower lip as she undid his belt and zipper.