A:N// There's no real plot in this story just randomness about the very cute heroine's life with a few schemes and tricky parts where there's our devilish young heir and his old dark, manipulative wickedness.

Disclaimer:

Who's deserving to owe a very good looking rich guy like Kyouya? Suggestions!

*whispers*

What? Even if you pay him a lot?

*nodds*

If that's the case, but he's not mine to sell.

*Agrees*

You guys have no mercy.

*Agrees*

Oh, for goodness sake! Get on with the story and ENJOY! XD

Bottle one:

Part one: Three's The Charm

Just before dawn there was a subtle increase in the traffic, more of a pulsing insistence in the oncoming whining and diminishing drones. Fujioka Haruhi, student of Tokyo University, lay wakeful and restless in the bedroom of her apartment three hundred yards behind the showplace of Ootori corporation, a hundred-unit structure with wide drives, landscape terraces, a large swimming pool.

During the day she was not aware of the roaring flow. It's the blinking motley city lights she saw in the darkness and the towering skyscrapers that were unhinged in its remotely base. It was a still night. She could identify the direction from the sound. Now on this Friday morning near the end of September, the tourist from mid-west, the last stragglers from the branch company in South Tokyo were grinding north up route. They were passing a bridge six hundred yards from her apartment, traffic only entered a city limits of Shibuya. From time to time he could hear the far-off chuff or air brakes as one of the big rigs.

Haruhi picked up her plain brown watch from the night stand and looked at the luminous dial. Ten of four. She used to take a few more moments of sleep and wait for five to start her morning routine. Abandoning the sight of her bed though, she slipped her white bunny thongs and opened the door of her balcony. The faint smell of the familiar smoke and burning of metal always seem to left her uncomfortable, slightly nostalgic and emotional under the grasp those two years ago. Her high school years seems hard for her to let go unlike her grade and middle school years. She found herself looking back at the memories with apparent longing. She was yet wrong once again forcing her father too quickly she missed everyone's depart over seas. They did not tell her. She frowned. It was another thing to prob throughout her days alone. There's no one to distract her from thinking. How ironic.

Smiling, she leaned against the rail with her lower arm inside the sleeve of her coat, rubbing her two hands underneath the fabric to maintain from getting any cold. Her old experience did her totally a good lesson. A sick and low-blood pressure evil lord for getting her wet and without any pair of dry clothes.

Her clothes.

She stopped moving and for seconds became rather pale against the cool misty air. Pushing herself away, she scurried inside and slamming her fist against the light switch. The small contraption, in an instant, lit up and illuminated the room into brightness that it stung her eyes for a few moments but she was unaware of the pain as she fuddled with her laundry. Her worn clothes were thrown across the room mindlessly in a heap over the bed. Her clothes were over back and front as she jiggled her pants down and heard a metal click onto the floor. It's not her phone. The clothes were missing.

"Rich bastard," She cursed at the Rolex watch in a death grip within her hands, hoping that her fury will get through the owner of it. It seems she needs to be early in school today.

Clipping her shoulder length hair, she unbuttoned her nightdress, untying the ties at her waist she undo her underclothes and pulled the curtain close.

0o0

Kyouya Ootori went to the bank and Wistley Company and rented one of the large boxes, paying cash. He wore a sedate black suit, a white shirt, and a conservative tie. His shoes were polished. He carried a brown dispatch case he had purchased from the Partner Company. He wore a pair of glass with heavy frames. He had lifted them off the back seat of the car. The correction was slight, but it bothered him, and the bows hurt his ears. He pitched his voice lighter than usual and spoke more rapidly. And he did not smile.

The whole routine was far simpler than he had anticipated. The woman took his money, wrote down his name and address, had him sign a signature card, gave him a receipt for the box rental, two keys in a small red card envelope and explained what it would cost to have the box opened should he lose both keys. It was the rooming house where he had first stayed when he came to Tokyo, one he had been requested to leave.

He followed her into the vault and got the box. She showed him where to take it. It was just as Haruhi had explained to him. A hushed place, narrow aisle between the cubicles, soft dark green rug. Wide but short staircase, and a open balcony that overlooked the landscape of the buildings and sunset.

He sat in a small booth and opened his phone. He missed his watch badly. Get as soon as they were free and clear with the money. Get a damn good one, one of those things about the same size and thickness as a silver dollar. Solid gold with a solid gold wrist band. Initials on the back. Or he could just walk to her place and demand it from her, ask her and be done with it. How their fights turn to games of words, and how much they could figure out from each other. And still the simplicity that they managed to wave a flag or truce. Not the demanding women in his life. He was confused what to put in their state of relationship. Afraid he was actually unnerved at the matter somehow, he still receive the same dull treatment over and over. Her rejections and what he gave her was actually 'loans' in her mind. She simply have no idea.

She was a very simple, uncomplicated person. Her habit patterns were almost ritualistic. She was obsessive about house work, cleaning and washing and scrubbing herself into exhaustion. Gradually he became aware of another person behind the surface simplicity, an intricate, ritualistic, captive stranger- a person he knew so very much and very little at the same time. Her temper countering all the ironic grotesque people criticize her, been friends with her for long he couldn't quite remember. Her independence was the most intriguing part of her. The family she had acquired the factual bluntness and kindness and her dense approach for people much in care for her- it was his guilt not to tell her about her father's indeed acceptance for her freedom. It was him who insist to look upon her, to have time with her, and put comment about her contradicting nature that interested him to no end and how she blush then after.

Grinning at the thought, he plucked a plastic bag from the suitcase and pushed his glasses up. He took the key of his black Ford and closed the door behind him.

I like Kyouya and Haruhi very much and it would be really nice if you could leave your reviews. And your constructive criticisms would help me a lot too! I'll be waiting! There's more to come! Thanks a many lots! :D