TOMIICHI and Jasmine have always had a bit of an odd relationship.

It's hard to pinpoint exactly when it began. Perhaps it was when his father mentioned over dinner that the daughter of a friend would be starting at Oxford.

"Politics and Economics, just like you," Hayate said. "Maybe you can show her the ropes."

Tomiichi was twenty-two then, deep within the last lap of his bachelor's degree and wholly uninterested in anything that didn't involve a perfect score on his examinations. Still, because it was his father who said it, he nodded and murmured a vague sound of assent, even as he fully intended to do nothing.

About two months after that, at the behest of his fellow peers, Tomiichi was persuaded to join the Oxford open debate.

It was a whole-day affair that ate into a planned Saturday of rigorous studying (5 AM to 10 PM, three breaks for meals) and he was not entirely happy about it. But his classmates were convinced that he would be the perfect man to lead them. Plus the guidance counselor had advised him to take up extra-curricular activities for his CV. So it was with some reluctance that Tomiichi showed up at the college hall that Saturday in dark jeans and a polo shirt, armed with a binder on the justification of universal basic income.

The first person he saw was Jasmine.

Only he didn't know she was Jasmine then, not until later when she introduced herself as a first-year. That stirred the crowd somewhat; the open debate was notorious for having teams made up of final-year students, and for a first-year to not only compete but also be the opening speaker was a big deal.

Tomiichi doesn't remember much about that day — except for the semi-final, when his team got paired up against Jasmine's. They drew Government, and the motion was supporting a global tax on the rich. It was a topic he had written about multiple times in the past; it was even part of his final thesis. Tomiichi was confident they were in for an easy win.

He was surprised when he saw Jasmine would be the Opposition's third speaker. A third speaker needed to be critical, persuasive, and willing to play on the theatrics. Tomiichi wasn't all that convinced that Jasmine, with her soft blonde hair and demure smile, could achieve all those things.

It became apparent very quickly that she could.

Not only did she blow through each of Tomiichi's arguments, she also coaxed a few laughs out from the audience. Tomiichi had never heard laughter in a debate before. He hadn't thought it possible, not when the topics were as dry as sandpaper. Yet here was this tiny girl, doing it all with a wink and a smile.

Later, after the judges ruled his team soundly trounced, one of his fellow speakers came up and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I think her father's Harrod Knight. You know, the big-time lawyer? No wonder she whooped your ass."

Tomiichi's smile was thin. "Our ass, you mean."

A shrug. "Wasn't my points she went after in her closing statement."

Tomiichi felt a flash of irritation. It was further amplified when, upon careful examination of his own feelings, he realized that somewhere along the line his apathy toward the debate had changed into a desire to win. Not only had he failed, he'd also been ass-kicked in a subject he thought he knew fairly well about.

When he left the hall, Jasmine was just on her way out. There was a boy on her arm, and as they passed by Tomiichi deliberately made eye contact. The boy shrank under the ferocity of his gaze — it was a childish attempt to intimidate — yet Jasmine did not. Instead, she held Tomiichi's glare with a steadfastness that suggested he was not going to be the first Oxford senior she outwitted.

Tomiichi didn't see her much after that. The entire debate was relegated to a single line on his CV, and he graduated with full honours.

A short stint in the company later, he decided to return to Oxford for a Master's in Business Administration. One afternoon, as he sat in the library with his laptop, there came a gentle knock on his table.

"Hello." Jasmine's hair was now long and fell past her shoulders. "I thought I recognized you."

They had a quick lunch. It was not as awkward as Tomiichi feared, especially after Jasmine confessed that her father had told her pretty much the same thing Tomiichi's did when she first came to Oxford.

"I hate it when he does that," Jasmine said, rolling her eyes. "It's like setting me up on a blind date, but worse. At least with blind dates I don't need to worry about jeopardizing my dad's business connections."

Tomiichi chuckled. Later, when he went back to his dorm, it occurred to him that that was the most comfortable he ever felt in a one-on-one setting before.

A month later, Jasmine Knight had a new boy on her arm.

Even now, as Tomiichi sips champagne and feels the night breeze ruffle his shirt, he's not entirely sure why things between him and Jasmine ended. He can't recall any major fights or disagreements. Their relationship was such smooth sailing one might call it boring. He wasn't even all that shocked when Jasmine suggested breaking up. It felt natural somehow; she was the one who asked him out, so it made sense that she would be the one to end it.

Their parents were disappointed, understandably. In their eyes the two of them made (and make) for the perfect pairing. Tomiichi doesn't think there's any other woman in his life who would have barely blinked if he proposed a fake relationship for mutual benefits.

Not that he's complaining. Having Jasmine as a fiancée is a sure-fire way of making Chabra re-evaluate his opinion of him. Chabra may not know the Knights personally, but anyone who's ever read a newspaper has definitely heard of Harrod Knight.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tomiichi sees Jasmine arrive. She's the picture of absolute sophistication as usual. As she comes to a stop, she tilts her cheek. Tomiichi raises an eyebrow.

"What?" says Jasmine. "No peck for the missus?"

Tomiichi brushes off a speck of dust from his lapels. "Let's save the theatrics for Chabra, shall we?"

"I thought we might get a little practice in before the real thing."

"You and I have been friends for over a decade. We do not need practice to be at ease with one another."

"Being at ease and being in love are two different things."

He ignores the statement. "You have a ring?"

"I thought I might get your input on that." Lifting up her left hand, Jasmine wriggles three fingers. "What do you think? Single diamond, rose gold with sapphire, or a trilogy with two rubies?"

Tomiichi doesn't hesitate. "Single diamond."

"Oho. A lover of the classics, I see."

"It's the easiest to replace and the least interesting. That means I don't need to talk too much about it."

A roll of Jasmine's eyes. "I still can't believe you made me prepare my own ring."

"I hardly see the need to incur additional business expenses by buying you one. Especially since you already have existing jewellery."

"Business?" Slipping her arm into Tomiichi's, the two of them began walking toward the bow of the yacht. "I thought I was helping out an old friend."

It's a dry remark. "I don't recall old friends needing such a high salary."

"Well. A girl's got to make money somehow."

He glances over. "I take it you don't intend to return home anytime soon?"

"Nope." The single word is cheerful. "Besides, Father is still keeping dibs on me. I could jump off right now and the coast guard would pull up in ten seconds to fish me out the water."

Jasmine's voice is deceptively light. "Freedom and a safety net. What more can I ask for?"

For the first time tonight, Tomiichi appraises Jasmine fully. Just below the light dusting of blush on her cheeks is barely noticeable defiance in the tilt of her chin and thin press of the lips. Jasmine catches the look and returns a cool one of her own.

"Yes?"

"You've changed. The Jasmine Knight I knew would never be this reckless."

"Or perhaps," says Jasmine, "you never truly knew me at all."

The bow is not too crowded, and Tomiichi spots the figure of Chabra from miles away. Keeley is still with him, except now there are several more additions to the party. Additions Tomiichi recognizes as the top execs of AscendLand, which can only mean one thing. The AscendLand CEO is going in for the kill.

Jasmine stops. A wave of coldness washes over Tomiichi at the thought of her backing out now. "What is it?"

"Our story. Have you thought about it?"

"Of course. We met in Oxford. Stayed friends, and over the years grew into something more. A month ago I proposed and you accepted. We plan to break the news to our parents at your birthday party in two weeks."

"What about the proposal?"

"What about the proposal?"

It's a prim look. "Surely you must have a story about how the proposal went down. It's the first thing anyone asks when they hear someone's getting married."

Tomiichi can feel himself growing impatient. Chabra is right there, and if they don't move now it's possible they'll miss their opportunity entirely. "At Oxford. I proposed to you at the college hall where we first met for debate."

"Oh." A sly smile crosses the younger woman's lips. "You remember. Can I say you fell in love because you were stunned speechless by my eloquence and elegance?"

"Yes, yes. Whatever you say. Now can we please do what we came here to do?"

The grin on Jasmine's face grows wider, and she's about to say something else when —

"126 potato chips!"

The shout floats just above the music and echoes throughout the night. Several people turn to stare — but not Tomiichi. Tomiichi is too focused for that. A fire alarm can go off beside him and he won't hear a thing. But what he does notice is the odd expression of mortification and what seems like actual, physical pain forming on Jasmine's face.

"Ah," says Jasmine. "We may have a problem."

A peal of alarm rings through Tomiichi's head. "What," he begins and that's when the plastic bowl shoots into view between them.

A light shower of orange crumbs descends upon his polished leather shoes like freshly fallen snow. The bowl is attached to a hand, which is attached to a dress with far too many pleats on it, which is in turn attached to a woman who, within the three seconds Tomiichi lays eyes on her, is exactly the kind of person he does not need in his life, not ever and not right now, especially when there are a million pounds at stake.

"I did it!" Naomi lets out a garbled, enthusiastic whoop. "Counted all the chips in this bowl, yes I did. Yes, siree. All 136 of them." A blink. "I mean twenty. Twenty-six."

If Jasmine is truly dying inside the way her expression seems to show, Naomi is completely oblivious to it. "I had trouble in the beginning, not gonna lie. The trick is you got to eat the chips instead of putting them back in the bowl. That's what I did, I ate one hundred and twenty-six chips." There's a muffled retching sound. "Wow. I really need to throw up."

Jasmine swallows. Very delicately, she turns Naomi around. "Naomi, this is Satoh Tomiichi. Tom, this is my flatmate, Naomi Cyrus."

There's a short silence.

Naomi is the first to respond. Rather unsteadily, she bobs a curtsey. "Tis' a pleasure." As she bows she also attempts a salute, which means her hand catches on Tomiichi's tie and forcibly yanks him down. "Whoops. Sorry about that."

Slowly, Tomiichi straightens himself. His countenance suggests disbelief, or disgust, or perhaps some combination of both. Regardless, it's a long wordless silence that ensues as he stares at Naomi, before eventually turning to Jasmine to say,

"What is this?"

Naomi frowns. Even in the depths of her befuddled brain she can discern the subtle notes of somebody taking offense, and since her flatmate is the most beautiful, inspiring woman she has ever met in her life, and there are only three of them and it doesn't seem like this man is someone who can ever take offense at himself, then there can be only one person that offense is targeted for.

She folds her arms. "I'm not sure I like your tone, sir."

Tomiichi asks, with incredulity, "You brought someone to the party?"

"The invitation said I could bring a plus one," Jasmine answers.

"The invitation was for me." Tomiichi is beginning to suspect that this is some version of his worst nightmare come to life. "You are my plus one."

Jasmine opens her mouth, then closes it. "It's not my fault you didn't clarify."

"Perhaps I've overestimated your integrity, Miss Knight," Tomiichi says. "It seems to me that you do not intend to honour our partnership at all."

There's a hard edge in Tomiichi's voice, and Naomi picks up on it. The frown deepens. She raises a finger. "Sir? Sir, you absolutely cannot speak to my friend this way. I will admit you look a lot like Jonathan Bailey, but just because you're hot that doesn't give you the right to disrespect."

Tomiichi can feel the last threads of his patience beginning to snap. Rounding on the woman, he's about to bite off a strong retort when he catches sight of two things. One, that despite the inebriation that permeates the rest of her features, her eyes remain vividly and startlingly clear. Her irises especially, are like the fading rays of a dying sun.

Secondly, the neckline of the woman's dress is low. Very low. Tomiichi stands about a head taller, and from where he is he can see right down in it.

Naomi watches as a pair of dark eyes, darker than midnight, flicker to her then away. There's something about this man that sends a jolt of caffeine through her veins, that clears the fog in her senses somewhat. Maybe it's the way his jaw clenches and unclenches without making a sound. Maybe it's the way the navy suit moulds his frame like it was made only for him to wear. Maybe it's how his hair looks, as if it'll feel so sinfully good being tugged by her fingers.

Jasmine is wringing her hands. "This is all my fault. I genuinely thought this entire night was going to be a joke, so I didn't take it seriously. But I can fix it. We can still go up to Chabra and I promise you, I'll play my part."

There's a round of laughter from about ten feet to their right. Keeley is grinning from ear to ear, and Chabra looks pleased. One of the executives has brought out what looks like a pen and document.

Tomiichi feels his insides twist, but forces himself to ignore it. "Jasmine," he begins, then stops.

He lets out a sigh. "I will not pretend this arrangement does not mean a lot. But as your friend, that duty comes first. If you have become uncomfortable with this entire business, you simply only need to let me know. I will not hold you in this for any longer than you are willing."

Jasmine shakes her head. "No. I gain as much from this as you do. I just didn't think —"

She breaks off. Naomi is now humming, not too softly, the opening bars of Salt-N-Pepa's Push It! She's also started to shimmy toward the chocolate fountain.

Jasmine gives her a helpless look. "Somebody needs to stop her before she gets kicked off the yacht."

Privately, Tomiichi thinks that's the best outcome. But even though he very much prefers to wrestle an Australian crocodile than go after a woman who seems to have left her only brain cell in the bottom of a champagne bottle, a part of him — the part that was raised by his mother, is frowning very much like what she might have done.

"I will handle it." The way he says the word sends a shiver down Jasmine's spine. "Can you deal with Chabra on your own?"

A wink. "But of course. Why, I'll have him wrapped around our fingers before you know it." Jasmine smoothens out her hair. "Sync up in an hour?"

Tomiichi nods. As Jasmine glides toward the congregation of men at the bow, a familiar voice begins to once again whisper in his ear. It's the same voice that comes whenever he thinks just a little too long about Jasmine, and it always says the same thing.

Wouldn't life be so much easier if you can just make yourself fall for her?

But he has no time to wrestle over that. Not when every day he's reminded of how his father's legacy sits on his shoulders. Not when his staff are all looking up to him, and he can hear the hound dogs at the door waiting for a crack to get in.

Not when every breath he takes is like choking on dead air, and he can't convince himself that his next step isn't running away.

And especially, thinks Tomiichi grimly, not when there is a drunk woman to chase.