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I'll Remember	By : Mallie-3 Category: Dragon Ball Z > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1079 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of the characters, nor do I make any profit what so ever.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter 7

I'll Remember

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of the characters associated with the anime or manga.

Word Count: 5,695

ooOoo

The dress had been picked out, or so her mother thought. To be completely honest she wasn't thrilled with the choices. Though who was she kidding? She technically didn't want this wedding anyway.

The wedding itself was strictly business and the sooner it was over the sooner she could get back to life and try to be happy on some level.

Bulma gripped a stack of papers that she had recently printed from the copier. The sheets were warm and smelled slightly like heated rubber. She slowly shut the copier room door, flipping off the light before the door closed and began to make the short trek back to her office.

Bulma lifted one well-manicured hand and tucked her loose locks of hair behind her ear, and lifted her eyes to see Ella, her secretary, bumping open her office door with her hip and in her hand was a crystal vase that held a bouquet of beautiful roses. Her blue eyebrows immediately furrowed as her pace quickened.

She finally reached her dimly lit office and opened the cracked door to peek inside. Ella had the vase in her grip and carefully slid it upon the edge of her desk. The short blonde girl lifted her gaze to see Bulma slipping into the room.

"Sorry Miss. Briefs I was just dropping this off for you. One of the florist drivers came into the main lobby with this beautiful bouquet of flowers saying they were for you, so I decided to drop them off for you." Her pink lips curled up into a sweet smile.

Bulma's lips were slightly parted as her eyes slipped to what looked like red colored roses. She nodded and forced a smile upon her lips, "Did a card come with it?" her blue eyebrow raised as she slowly made her way toward her desk to set down the freshly copied papers.

"Um, I believe so…" the young woman's voice trailed off as she carefully parted the flowers to find a large plastic rod standing out in the middle, which clutched a small square, "Found it," she pulled it free and handed it to Bulma.

The blue haired heiress took the plain white envelope carefully and glanced down at the blank top, her eyebrows narrowed slightly before she shot a look over her shoulder and smiled, "Thank you, any messages for me?"

"No there were no messages, but there was one call. The gentleman didn't wish to leave a name or number." The blonde pursed her lips, but then shrugged, "Anything I can do?"

"No, thank you Ella, you can leave now." Bulma nodded before slipping into her office chair.

She waited for the woman's figure to disappear behind the door and once the door clicked she pulled at the crease. The paper began to tear with ease as her hand jerked the paper free, tossing the bits all over her desk top.

She cleared her throat and pulled the small card free, running the soft pad of her thumbs along the corners to the sharp tips of the card. Bulma slowly lifted the flap to see two lines of words with no name written. Of course one person came to mind as she read the small print over and over again. She didn't know how long she was sitting stationary in her office chair, staring at the ink.

I'm sorry for the other day.

See me again?

Bulma's blank gaze slowly shifted to the phone, which was flashing brightly with no ring. She had shut it off a week before just to get work finished that just seemed to keep piling up. Not to mention a major event for their company was coming up and she had to prepare for it because there were going to be other rival companies present. She honestly hoped Ouji Corporation wasn't invited, but knowing her luck lately she would have to deal with the Vegeta's old man. It wasn't pleasant.

She sighed and ran her fingers through her loose wave blue locks and with the other hand she gripped the slim center of the phone, propping it up against her ear with her shoulder. Her finger pressed against her throbbing eye sockets and in a bland tone she answered.

"Yes?"

There was a slight pause, "Miss. Briefs, Mr. Ichihara is here in the downstairs lobby. I told him that you weren't allowing anyone up today, but he insisted that I call…so…" the older woman from the lobby trailed off, waiting for her response in the matter, which she knew the only reason why she was calling was because it was well known that Yamcha was her fiancé.

"Um, no…I don't wish to see anyone today. Please explain to him that I have so much work, and I will call him when I get off in a few hours. I plan on leaving just a tad early." Bulma reached up and gripped the thin plastic center of the phone and held it to her ear, listening carefully to the small argument that was taking place on the other end.

Her blue brows narrowed as a small frown settled upon her lips. He was definitely not going to take no for an answer. They barely got to see one another since her parents dinner party, so she knew there was no way she would be able to hold him off for much longer.

Bulma gripped the small discarded note from her flowered and slipped it into one of the drawers near her stomach on her desk and closed it, keeping it from prying eyes. The phone began to rapidly beep, which alerted her that Yamcha would be at her office door any moment and she would most likely have an argument.

She quickly stood up and straightened her blouse, slowly walking to the door and popping it open to get a good look at the double elevator doors near the end of the hall way. Her arms crossed over her chest as she cocked her chin up, directing a glare down the hall as the bell sounded and the doors slowly glided open.

A fake smile formed on her lips seeing her agitated fiancé waltzing down the hall toward her. He was in his business suit and his hair looked slightly windblown. Bulma took in a deep breath and finally she spoke.

"Didn't I tell you I had a lot of work to do? I told you that my father and I had an important function we need to prepare for because our competitors are going to be there, and no matter how many times I inform you of this, which I might add you have known about for two months, you still question me." Bulma took in a deep breath and blocked her office entrance.

Yamcha's dark eyes narrowed, shifting to the small crack that barely allowed him to see anything inside. He glanced back toward his fiancé and crossed his arm, mimicking her actions.

"What is with this sudden attitude change? You have been acting strange lately Bulma, this isn't you." He frowned deeply, which was rare even for him.

"I don't have an attitude, I am busy. Yamcha you have to understand that there are a lot of things going on in my life right now. I have a wedding to plan and a business to help run. It is very stressful. You're completely smothering me." she immediately snapped at him, which caused his dark eyes to widen with surprise.

"Bulma… I'm sorry, but I didn't realize that seeing my future wife at least a couple times a week was smothering. What is going to happen when we actually get married?" He moved closer, which he was not surprised to see her slightly step back.

"I'll make time for that, but like I said. This is a busy time right now. There will be much more time later." Bulma's hands shifted through her hair in an annoyed motion.

"Let's talk inside your office," Yamcha reached out and pressed his hand against the wooden surface, which Bulma panicked as she tried to block him. It was no use because he only gripped her by the waist and backed her into the office, kicking the door closed behind him.

His eyes immediately lifted toward the flowers, but he said nothing about them, "So, tell me have I done something to offend you? Is there anything you would like to tell me?" he questioned her, looking her straight in the eye, "It is obvious that you have cold feet. Bulma it is normal you know?" Yamcha let his arms drop to the side.

"Yes, I have cold feet. Yamcha, you know just as well as I that these marriage plans are being forced upon me. If I could choose I wouldn't ever get married. Don't get me wrong I care for you." Bulma placed a hand upon her hip, glanced up at him through her eyelashes.

"Bulma…you know I would do anything to make you happy, anything at you wished. As long as you are happy I am happy as well." Her fiancé's lips pressed tightly together as he watched her face contort into a series of complicated emotions, which caused him to grip his hands tightly into fists just to keep from yelling at her.

Yamcha shook his head and began to pace.

"I know I have been completely unreasonable, but it doesn't change the fact that I need some time to prepare. I promised you we would do dinner sometime soon. Would that make you feel better?" Bulma tapped the tip of her black tipped high heel against the hard floor, lifting her gaze to meet his irritated glare.

"I would love to have dinner with my fiancé, yes, but I am not sure you have time for me. I would hate to pull you away from your precious work, Bulma." He ran a hand through his windblown hair, shuffling it and yanking his tie away from his throat, feeling it was growing tighter and tighter by the minute.

"Stop being so dramatic, Yamcha. When are you free?" Bulma walked around her desk and sat in the office chair, pulling open her mac laptop and scrolling down to get a better look at her schedule throughout the week.

"I can always make time for you, so tomorrow night. I will cancel all my other appointments after five and we can go to our favorite five star restaurant in the city. What do you say?" Yamcha Ichihara asked in a mellow tone, moving closer to place his hands upon her highly set desk.

"Tomorrow? I am not sure I can get off in time. I might be in the office until six." Bulma placed her thumb nail between her lips, biting upon it lightly as she tried her hardest to weasel her way out of the 'date'. Why did he have to make her feel so bad? He honestly didn't deserve this, which she could admit.

"I don't care, a late dinner then. I just wish to see you. Is that too much to ask?" He looked up, giving her an unbelievably sad look, which she couldn't turn down.

Bulma sighed deeply and ran both hands over her face, "That is fine. I will call you when I get off tomorrow." Her hands slid to the sides of her neck, allowing a smile to form on her lips.

"Thank you my love, you won't regret it." Yamcha smiled brightly, flashing his perfectly bright white smile. His dark brown eyes shifted toward the orange colored roses placed in a crystal vase upon the desk.

Bulma's smile slowly disappeared remembering the card was safely hidden even though the roses were completely visible. All she had to do was come up with something to tell him and the fool would believe her sense he didn't think she would ever do anything stupid. It would be done after that. Who knew he might not even say anything, or so she hoped.

"Your favorite color is orange. They are quite beautiful." Yamcha reached up to caress a delicate petal of one of the roses.

The yellow coloring, which highlighted the petals, bled into the red causing the illusion of orange. There were different meanings to coloring of roses. Quantity meant something as well. Roses were truly a beautiful gift even though they didn't last long.

"Yes, they are beautiful and funny that you actually remembered that orange was my favorite color." Bulma's brows rose, a bit taken back.

"Of course I do, you're the woman I love. I remember many things you say to me." He smiled softly. Bulma knew he wasn't lying. He did remember a lot. He was that certain man that any woman would die to have as a significant other. She knew this, but unfortunately her heart had been given away years back, and there was no getting it back.

Bulma's expression quickly went blank as she felt the guilt of her small betrayal bubble deep within her. She leaned back in her chair and placed her hands in her lap, quickly shifting her gaze toward the large spanning windows, which offered her a calming view of the city.

"Who gave them to you? I sure didn't." Her suspicious fiancé asked, pushing his well-built body up and placing his hands in his pockets. He casually looked at the pictures placed around her office as if it were the first even though he had looked at them a million times before.

"Um, who gave them to me?" Bulma coughed a little and shrugged, "Well, I thi-…my mother?" her voice sounded as if she was questioning herself. Yamcha caught it of course, which his thick eyebrow rose quickly as a grin formed upon his well-shaped lips.

"You don't sound so sure…"

"I am sure, Yamcha. It was my mother. She…she saw them and thought of me." Bulma flipped her hands in the air and chuckled nervously.

"Oh that was nice of her," he took one from the vase and smelled it, "I'll take one, they are stunning. I will see you tomorrow, my love." He winked and slowly walked around the desk, sliding his hand through her hair and caressing down the back of her neck.

His eyes lowered, filling with a deep desire that was only one way in their relationship. Yamcha leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, shyly dipping his tongue into her mouth, which Bulma was only humoring him during his short visit. She moaned and pulled away quickly. Her blue eyes flashed up a brief moment before she offered him a smile.

"I will see you tomorrow, but right now I need time." Bulma straightened her hair.

Yamcha nodded and placed one last kiss upon her forehead before slowly exiting from her office with one of the orange roses in his hand.

Bulma wiped her lips with the back of her hand and shook her head, taking in a slow deep breath. She really hoped that was the last time they spoke about the roses.

ooOoo

Vegeta shoved his blackberry roughly into his pants pocket after deleting the voice mail message from the florist. They had successfully delivered the roses he bought for her. He knew she loved orange, but he also chose them because orange usually meant desire, excitement, and passion. Those were the feelings he was getting each and every time he laid eyes on her.

It drove him completely mad at the percentage of his thoughts actually went to her on a daily bases. After their passion filled days together he couldn't seem to get her out of his mind. His body craved hers like nothing he had ever experienced before. She had driven him wild back then and she was doing it all over again. It excited him, but angered him all at the same time. Why?

Woman…you will be the death of me…

Vegeta ran a hand through his unruly black hair as he sat back in his office chair and sifted through papers. He had been preparing for an important function for the past few weeks. His father wanted him there by his side when they faced a rival company. They hadn't been told which company it would be, but he was willing to bet it was an American company, which had been in the rising in the past few years and slowly catching up to Ouji and Capsule Corp.

His lips parted as he traced his index finger along the curve of his lower lip. His father had a lot waiting for him after taking just a few days off to think. Bulma had brought up a subject he wished only to forget about. It had caused much stress in his life and because of that he had done something that he knew he would most likely regret at a certain point if he even got to it.

Vegeta knew he had overreacted. It was selfish of him to turn her down, for it had happened to them both. They were both young and stupid to truly know how it would affect their future. A few years after the whole incident, Vegeta had completely forgiven Bulma because he knew it would have never worked out with their career types. He actually thought of it as a new beginning. Not that the child didn't cross his mind every now and again. He honestly wouldn't have minded to have a child with her.

He finally felt terrible for his actions, so what better way than to offer flowers. He knew Bulma was never a flower kind of a girl, but he didn't want to go over the top. He was having it sent to Capsule Corporation, which he knew would drive her up the wall. Vegeta honestly wished he could have been there to see the frantic look on her face as she figured out who they were from.

He sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils and then stapled a few papers together, signing the bottom and then placing them into a folder to deliver to his secretary. They were to be faxed. This fundraiser was going to be interesting. His father would not allow him to miss out on this excellent opportunity to promote their company.

Vegeta frowned and patted his pocket feeling the phone vibrate against his upper thigh. He slid his hand deep within the silken inside and pulled his lodged phone free. His finger brushed over the buttons, answering the odd number.

"Yes?" he answered in a gruff tone.

"Hello sweetie, did you miss me?" a silky feminine voice echoed from the other line.

"Maron how was the trip? You still have a few days, correct?" He asked in a semi-bored tone, which clearly irritated her.

"Darling, you know I hate when you speak to me like I am a customer or a client. I am your wife. Don't tell me you had another bad day at work?" her voice heightened, sounding a tad childish.

"It has been busy, sorry. How much longer will you be out of town?" Vegeta began to check e-mails, barely paying attention to her.

"I am going to be home in a few hours. I called your driver early this morning. He just picked me up at the airport. I can't wait to get my hands on you, I have missed you." She purred.

"You're on your way now? I thought you weren't going to be home for a few more days?" Vegeta dropped his pen and began to mentally curse himself for not putting away Maron's clothing and hiding the bra and panties that Bulma had left the night she had to sleep there.

He began to massage his temples, "Oh should I fly back there? You don't seem too happy about having me home, V. You never have been this uninterested in seeing me when I get home from my trips." He could hear her soft whimpers, knowing she was most likely crying at this point.

Vegeta growled, pulling the mouth piece away from his face. She was too childish and needy sometimes and it drove him insane. She was right; he wasn't excited to have her back. To be completely honest, she could stay where ever she was and never come back. He could just pretend to be single and live a secret life with Bulma.

Vegeta's nostrils flared when reality came crashing back to earth, "Maron, stop crying. When I get home, how about you order from that Chinese place down the road. What do you say?" he closed his eyes, praying that her sniffling would just stop already.

"Y-you will be home f-for it?" Her whimpers quieted.

"Of course, but like I said I am busy. I am preparing for this fundraiser in a few weeks here. I am swamped with work. I am just tired. It isn't you." Damn he was such a liar. He didn't want to go home to her because he knew what she expected from him.

"Alright, well when should I order then? You want me to order the same thing you always get, V?" Maron's voice escalated once again.

"Yes, that is fine. I think around 6:30 you should order." Vegeta spoke quickly, hoping the phone call would end soon.

"Alright my sweet husband, I love you more than anything." She made a kissing sound, which caused Vegeta to roll his eyes.

"You too, don't cry anymore. I will see you soon." He hung up before she could get another word in and quickly placed his phone back into his pocket.

He had to leave. He had to get back to his house and make sure everything was back into place. Vegeta still hadn't picked up the closet. He would be damned if he were to asked one of the staff. He didn't trust them for they would have loose lips and say something he didn't want her to know. Of course no one had been present when Bulma was there, but still.

Vegeta grabbed is briefcase and shoved papers carelessly into the box, placing the folder of his signed documents on top. His thumbs brushed across the locks, clicking them into place as he closed the top. He gripped the handle and made his way toward the office door and into the hallway.

His father's door was open and inside was his father, staring him down with an attitude from hell.

"Boy, where do you think you are going? You have work to do. You best keep that fundraiser on your mind at all times." His father barked from inside his office, slowly standing and placing his hands upon his desk to support his body weight.

"I have to leave; Maron is going to be home soon." He pulled his tie loose from his neck and shrugged his jacket from his shoulder to carry it under one arm.

"You better come in bright and early tomorrow, son." Vegeta Sr. frowned deeply, mumbling curses under his breath toward his son who was completely ignoring his disappointment.

Vegeta pressed the elevator button and after a few moments of waiting the doors slid open and allowed him to enter. He made it to the lobby and slammed his briefcase upon the highly raised center desk placed near the entrance. The loud thud scared the receptionist, almost causing her to jump out of her seat and onto the floor.

"Take this folder, get this to my secretary, Tammy, and tell her to fax this right away. It is for the fundraiser." Vegeta explained, tossing the folder into her lap.

With that Vegeta slammed his case closed and strolled toward the exit with the receptionist blinking and watching him in complete awe.

ooOoo

Vegeta made his way to the parking garage and picked up his black Bentley Continental convertible. The top was up and that is how he liked it when driving through the city. He placed his briefcase next to him in the passenger seat and glanced to his right to the flat screen above his CD player. His fingers glided over the screen trying to figure out what was the best route home during this time by pulling up the traffic information. He spoke his destination and quickly he backed up and followed.

It would be a couple hours before Maron was expected home, but he knew as soon as she got home she would want to get out of her clothing and into something a bit more comfortable while at home. She did it each and every time.

His car's engine roared as he turned the corner on a red light. His eyes flickered to his left, watching the oncoming traffic as his vehicle rounded the corner and sped up on the highway toward his home.

Vegeta put the car on cruise control and settled in his seat. It wouldn't be too long until he arrived home especially at the speed he was driving. His radar was completely dead, alerting him that no police officers in the area had their radars on. His hand shifted toward the touch screen and immediately he activated his satellite radio and tried desperately to will his body to relax.

After about 30 minutes, Vegeta rounded the curb and pulling into his long driveway and paused near the mailbox. He quickly collected his mail and drove up toward his house, turning off his car and rushing toward the front door. A small car was just outside; alerted him the maid was inside cleaning. He really hoped she had listened to him and didn't enter his bed room.

ooOoo

The maid gripped a black lacey bra she found under the bed in the master bed room and raised a dark brow. She pursed her lips and slowly walked towards the towels she was collecting and tossed the undergarments into the basket. The middle aged woman shrugged and gripped the edge of the basket, pulling it tightly to her hip and walking from the bedroom toward the laundry room on the lower level.

Her eyes perked up hearing someone was finally home from work. She stepped down the winding steps and smiled seeing Vegeta Ouji kicking the door closed behind him and strolling in toward the kitchen. His dark eyes flashed up toward her and instantly she greeted him.

"Good Afternoon Mr. Ouji, you are home early, yes?" she smiled brightly and kept walking toward the laundry room with the basket near her midsection and her hand upon the towels, folding the bra and panties into the heap.

ooOoo

Vegeta shut the door with the tip of his toe and gripped his briefcase. His vision focused in on the kitchen, which was down the hallway. Something at the corner of his eyes caught his attention and immediately, without pausing, shifting his gaze in the direction to see the maid coming down the stairs with a basket full of towels.

"Good Afternoon Mr. Ouji, you are home early, yes?" the woman called to him.

"Hn," Vegeta grunted in response and kept up his pace.

He placed his briefcase on the counter and wiped his hand across his mouth, looking for anything that might be out of the ordinary. Vegeta softly cursed, knowing full well he was completely over analyzing everything.

He rounded the corner to see the laundry room door open and the soft humming of the maid as she started yet another load of laundry. The dark haired man slipped passed and made his way toward his bedroom to look for the bra.

Vegeta opened his bedroom door and softly closed the door, locking it behind him. He made his way towards the open closet door and began to organize all the clothing, making sure everything looked tidy for her. The dress Bulma had barrowed before was nowhere to be found. He growled and slammed his hand upon the wall. He had forgotten it again at her house. He needed to get it back.

He hoped she didn't notice that one dress was missing. He doubted it with the hundreds of garments the closet held. It was really quite ridiculous. He needed to get her to cut down, which he would save for a later time because he didn't feel like an argument on her first night home.

Once everything looked precise he stepped out, shut off the light and closed the door. Vegeta leaned against the door and ran a hand through his hair, shifting his eyes to the floor, looking for those delicious under garments Bulma had worn for him.

He got on his hands and knees and looked under the bed, looking from top to bottom for them. There was absolutely nothing under the bed that would block the garments from his searching eyes. Vegeta stood up and looked through his drawers and even Maron's, thinking the maid had entered the room without his knowledge.

Finally, after giving up he walked down toward the laundry room and knocked on the door. The woman pulled an earphone from her ear and smiled, "Can I do something for you, Sir?"

"Did you go into my room?" Vegeta raised a brow seeing the smile slide from her features.

"No Mr. Ouji," the woman lied, panicking because of his angered expression. The woman meant no harm from it what so ever, she just didn't want to anger her agitated employer.

Vegeta nodded and walked away, rubbing his chin and making his way toward the kitchen's refrigerator. He pulled out a jug of orange juice and drank greedily from the jug, screwing the cap back on and sliding it back onto the shelf.

Maybe Bulma had grabbed the garments. He really hoped so.

ooOoo

Yamcha slowly made his way up the concrete steps of the Brief's home and typed in the code and opened the door. He slowly made his way toward the study, looking for Dr. Briefs who he was supposed to meet. His eyebrows knitted when he saw a martini glass half full sitting on one of the oak tabletops. His eyes shifted toward the hall. The soft sound of clicking made their way toward the study. Mrs. Briefs made her way into the room and jumped in surprise.

"Yamcha, my sweet son, I wasn't expecting to see you today." The blonde haired woman smiled brightly and hurried toward him, embracing him tightly.

"Yes, well Dr. Briefs had called me earlier and asked that I come over. I am guessing he wishes to speak to me, most likely business." Yamcha released the tiny woman and placed one hand in his pocket.

"Oh, well I am glad to see you're here. He is currently in his office on the phone, but I am sure he will be back in a moment. He just left." The woman reassured him.

"Ah, it really isn't a problem." Yamcha nodded and walked farther into the study.

"Oh that is a beautiful rose, don't tell me you brought it from little 'ol me." Mrs. Briefs teased, swatting her hand and blushing like a school girl.

"Oh, no I happened to steal it from Bulma. It truly is quite beautiful isn't it? Do you have something for it, that is why I brought it inside? I would really hate for it to die." He wiggled the rose between his middle and index finger.

"Oh of course, here let me take it." Mrs. Briefs walked toward the hall and offered it to one of the maids, instructing the woman on what to do with the rose.

"You said you got it from Bulma? Did you get her these beautiful flowers?" The blonde haired woman turned and smiled, cupping her hands near her mid-section.

"Um, no actually," Mrs. Briefs frowned seeing a confused look flash across the young man's face.

"Oh?" She slowly replied. Her blue orbs looking toward the ground.

"Don't you recognize the color? They are the ones you had given her." Yamcha lowered himself in one of the leather chairs placed in the study, sliding his hands over the material.

"Oh, is that what she told you?" Mrs. Briefs forced a smile upon her nervous features.

"Yes…you did give them to her right?" Yamcha raised a brow, a bit concerned with the woman's reaction.

Mrs. Briefs snapped her fingers and shook her head, "Oh goodness, of course I did. I completely forgot about that. It was sort of spur of the moment, you know? A thank you for getting this wedding started finally." She nodded quickly.

Yamcha only nodded, growing even more suspicious.

"Drink?" Mrs. Briefs asked with a cheesy smile upon her lips.

"Sure," he replied.

The older woman moved toward the small bar near the corner. She lowered herself and opened the cabinet. There was a full crystal glass filled with brandy. She bit her lower lip and gripped the empty one beside it.

"Oh well if you look at that, it is empty. Let me get a fresh bottle from storage. I will be back dear." Mrs. Briefs wiggled the crystal in her hand. Yamcha nodded and watched her figure recede toward the hall.

Mrs. Briefs rushed toward a closet and shut the door, pulling on a cord and turning on the light. She slipped the phone from her pocket and speed dialed her daughter. A deep frown was on her perfectly painted lips.

Bulma Briefs…you better have a good explanation…

After a few rings her daughter picked up, which she merely answered with a 'yes'.

"Hello dear, I am glad you are enjoying the orange roses I bought for you." The older woman sneered.

ooOoo

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I'll Remember