Chuuya faces away from you as he sits in an arm chair of your home. He sighs at the way you stamp your feet impatiently and rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his vintage wine- something to take the edge off to keep himself from flying off the handle. The tension is so thick, you couldn't even cut it with a knife.

You two had been forced to marry thanks to your father and his boss. Now, he's stuck with you, a major brat with a pretty face. You had been getting on his nerves and throwing a fit about every little thing. At least you were nice too look at in that tiny, mini skirt. One of the only benefits to being married to you was that you were a hot piece of ass.

"Look, princess....I ain't happy about our situation either- but I think you oughta remember who's been takin' care of that pretty little head of yours these days!"

he grunted.