i really love this chapter. one reviewer suggested a story centered around a forbidden romance, and this universe that's been cooking in my head for a while fits perfectly. welcome to an alternate universe in which bulma and vegeta are both born into the mafia... that is, rival mob families. enjoy :)

i don't own dbz or any of these characters

She twists her lipstick and puckers her lips in the mirror, before gliding the color across her mouth. Wiping the edges of her lips, she blots and then twists the lipstick back into its case before placing it in its assigned pocket of her purse. Primping her hair one more time, she turns away from the mirror, satisfied with how she looks: lethal, but stunning. Her tight leather dress dips in the front, with straps that cling to the edges of her shoulders. Her strands of pearls clink on her neck, matching her large pearl earrings. A maroon trench coat and black pumps complete the outfit, and she grabs an umbrella from her apartment before stepping onto the rainy, autumn streets of New York. She doesn't want the rain to ruin her perfectly curled, shoulder-length, brown wig.

Her heels clack on the sidewalk as she makes her way to the subway. As she waits for the 7:15 subway to arrive, she closes her umbrella and looks around at the underground station that she hasn't stepped foot in since she was five years old. Glancing about, she sees business person after business person, along with the occasional tourist. She checks her Gucci watch.

Just on time, the subway arrives. Walking quickly, she enters the car before anyone else, nervously scanning her surroundings.

He's here.

She has to catch her breath slightly. She hadn't been sure he would actually come, but here her is, in the flesh. Gulping down her surprise and stress, she confidently walks to the back of the car, close to where he sits.

He wears a professional black suit with a grey peacoat, his coat collar popped. His normally flame-like hair is tamed underneath a black fedora, and his face is just hidden from her sight behind a newspaper.

Taking a breath, she takes a seat close to him, unsure if he noticed her entrance. Peaking over at him, she notices he hasn't responded at all to her appearance, and continues to stare down at the paper in front of him.

As she feels her heart beating quickly in her chest, she quiets the voices in her head telling her that she's insane. 'What would Mamma and Papà say? Or, worse, what would Yam say?' The thoughts run rampant in her mind, but she suppresses them.

The fifteen minute ride is silent and she can hardly keep from moving her seat so she can finally be in his face and ask him why he asked to meet with her when they ran into one another at the masquerade party a week ago. But, she maintains her stoic look, knowing that they must keep up appearances.

She knows a thing or two about this game.

Finally, the subway comes to a screeching halt and he stands up swiftly, folding his newspaper and stepping off of the car in a rush. She strategically allows a couple of people to exit before her, before stepping into the subway station herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his fedora disappearing up the stairs that lead to the street. Pushing her way through the crowd, she follows after him, worried she may lose him because of his height. Hurriedly, she climbs the stairs and feels panic set in for a moment. He's nowhere to be found. She walks a couple of paces, still scanning the crowd, when she feels someone approach her and slip an arm through hers.

"I hate rain in the city." She hears his gravelly voice and she lets out a huff of relief.

"I hate not knowing where we're going." She retorts as her steps synchronize with his. They effortless weave through the streams of people pouring over the sidewalk, their arms linked. She feels him smirk more than she sees him smirk.

"A control freak hm? Can't say it's surprising." He answers.

"What's surprising is that I still don't know what this meeting is about."

"Yet, you still agreed to come." This time, she glances up to catch the smirk that ghosts across his lips. His deliciously full lips. For the first time of the night, she gets a full glimpse of him. His suit is perfectly pressed as usual, and his jaw is still as sharp as a knife. His onyx eyes meet hers and she feels a rush of goosebumps erupt over her skin.

Not for the first time this night, she wonders if she's gone crazy for agreeing to this.

Suddenly, he stops, jerking her to a stop as well. WIth a flourish, he opens the door for her, leading the way into a high-end Japanese restaurant. She glances around, a small smile on her face as they approach the hostess.

"Good evening, Mr. Ouji. Your table is right this way." Bulma is surprised that they know him by name, and whispers it to him as they climb a flight of stairs to a secluded spot in the restaurant.

"So, is this where you take all the girls you don't want your parents to know about?" They've reached the table and he's easing her out of her coat. She hears him scoff.

She bites her cheek as he pulls his own coat off, revealing how his muscles strain against the fabric of his fitted suit. After hanging their coats and his hat, he appears behind her to pull out her chair.

"I only come here because I know the chef." His husky voice whispers into her ear, and her cheeks flush.

She sits down and he soon follows suit, grabbing the liquor menu.

"So…. Japanese?" She begins, attempting to break the heavy silence that had started to swallow them. He flashes her a grin.

"I've never run into any family members here and I don't think I will anytime soon." They both laugh softly.

"I don't think my Dad even knows what Japanese food is." She giggles, reaching to take a sip of her water. A waitress appears and Vegeta orders some sake.

"So Mr. Ouji, am I going to ever find out what this meeting is about." The sake has appeared and he's pouring her a glass, which he hands to her with a smirk.

"I miss the blue hair." He ignores her question as she takes a big sip of her drink.

"Well, that's just the thing, Mr. Ouji, I mean, I'm risking a lot by being here with you and-"

A laugh from him interrupts her.

"Topolina, since when did anyone from my family or your family show their faces in this part of town. Weren't we both just laughing at the thought of my capo dei capi or your family's capo dei capi dining here? How could they dine somewhere that doesn't serve vino? It's preposterous." He leans back to drink from his glass. Heat rises to her face as Bulma listens to him scold her like a child.

"Of course the godfather wouldn't eat here, but if you've grown up in Cosa Nostra and you don't understand that their are eyes and ears everywhere, then you've got another thing coming." She purses her lips at him. With a chuckle, he places his glass on the table.

"Listen, donna, you've got nothing to worry about. Just try to enjoy it." He gives her a lazy smile.

"And what do you mean by it?" She inquires moodily. He gestures to the table.

"This dinner."

"And what is this dinner meeting about?" She continues her rapid-fire questions. Again, he gives her an infuriating smirk.

"Cara mia, when did I give you the impression that this is a meeting?"

She opens her mouth to respond, but is struck mute by his statement. She thought this was some meeting about doing business behind their families' backs. Why else would he ask her to meet him on the 7:15 subway near her block? The secrecy, the covert directions he'd given her… She was sure he planned to organize something with her assistance. She'd been intrigued and excited at the prospect of finally doing something alone. Plus, she found the Ouji son to be incredibly attractive, and she was never one to deny herself dinner with a good-looking man.

Observing her lost look, Vegeta Ouji chuckles.

"This, woman, is not a meeting. This is a date." He says, amusement twinkling in his sharp eyes.

Her jaw almost hits the floor.

side note: it's not cool to have stereotypes against Italian -Americans, and as an Italian-American, that is entirely not the point of this universe. on the contrary, this is a way of paying homage to my background :)