1. Strangers at a Party

Kyoya's eyes slid easily over the guests. It was not rare for his family to come to functions like these, but it was a little unusual that they were hosting one in their own home. His father had mentioned something about the family becoming out of touch with proper society, but Kyoya had to wonder if this was another test to see which of the three sons was most impressive around potential clients and business partners.

He adjusted his glasses. Of course he looked friendly enough—insert smooth smile and a compliment to the wife of a major electronics manufacturer—but inside, Kyoya was just as cold and calculating as he'd ever been. This was his possible future being dealt with here. Even if his older brothers were obviously shoe-ins for their father's successors, Kyoya was determined not to give up. Not yet, anyway.

This was about the moment when his eyes lit across an unfamiliar figure. It was her hair that caught his eye: a deep but vibrant red, so unusual to see anywhere in Japan. He immediately wondered if it was a dye-job. She was too far away to tell properly. But it was pushed behind her shoulders in large loops, exposing her shoulders. Like most of the other girls in the room, she was wearing a modest—but very large—gown. Hers specifically was a dark blue.

Before he knew what was happening, his feet started moving towards her. He tried to shake the small feeling of unbalance. Kyoya was not used to seeing unfamiliar faces almost anywhere. His brain was a data bank of possible contacts and "friends." He had to know where this girl belonged.

She was standing in a corner of the room, hands cupped easily around one of the crystal glasses. It didn't take long for him to reach her. As he approached, he realized she did not notice him—she was staring at the ceiling.

"Hello, miss," Kyoya said. He bowed slightly, something that felt so natural now after entertaining so many girls at the host club.

She glanced his way before returning her eyes to the ceiling. Her eyes were a wonderfully pale blue. This close, he realized that her hair color was as natural as the freckles sprinkled over her nose. She looked American—who did she belong with?

Kyoya straightened slightly as she glanced at him again, this time focusing her gaze. She instantly turned as red as her hair.

"I'm so sorry," she stammered. "Er—hello."

He'd been right; American accent. He smiled down at her. She was fairly short for an American girl but probably around his age. "May I ask what has captured your gaze?"

The corners of her mouth twitched a little. His gaze followed hers, but he could see nothing out of the ordinary.

"It's, um, it's the chandelier," she said.

He looked at it for a moment. The sounds of all the other guests filled their silence. "Is there something wrong with it?" he asked finally.

"Oh! No, excuse me. I had been wondering what it would be like to paint it."

"You're a painter?"

She nodded softly, her eyes still on the light.

Kyoya looked at her as kindly as possible, but his attention was wavering. Was she stupid? Or was it the language? Her Japanese seemed solid enough, but it was a little hard to tell.

"Please forgive my rudeness," he said. "I'm Ootori Kyoya."

"Melanie Coin—oh, wait, I mean Coin…Melanie?"

Kyoya felt all interest drop instantly. She was even worse that Tamaki had been when he'd first arrived from France. But Coin? That wasn't a name he was at all familiar with.

"My aunt is married to Hashimoto Daichi." Melanie's eyes turned to meet Kyoya's coolly.

"I see." He smiled, and tried to ignore a jolt of unease. Her eyes were like the purest artic ice. In one instant, her whole demeanor had changed. "Enjoying the party?"

Yes, he knew about Hashimoto's American wife, April—surname Greenland. He'd picked her up during his business dealings in American film. A rags to riches story indeed. That didn't explain how the woman's niece ended up in Kyoya's house on this particular evening, although he knew better than pry.

"Yes, thank you," she replied. "Are you?"

Kyoya resisted the urge to raise his eyebrows. There was almost a challenge rising in her body language, the way she shifted her weight away from him, the slight pursing of her lips.

"I am, thank you," he said. He cursed inwardly to hear that most of the friendliness had dropped from his tone.

"Kyoya!"

His eyes were instantly drawn to the sound—Tamaki was making his way towards them, an inaudible laugh dancing across his features.

"Excuse me, Ootori-sama. I will leave you to your important guests."

Kyoya looked down to see Coin bowing slightly. When her eyes met his, he merely nodded, not able to muster the smile anymore. It was like she could see right through him anyway.

She stepped around him, chin high, and disappeared smoothly into the crowd around the dance floor.