Title: Vivre Avec Moi
Summary: He couldn't think of any reason to keep her. He couldn't think of one damned thing. Except the fact that she was one of the most sought after chefs in the world… TamaHaru KyoyaOC
Shalan's Say: This… is going to be hilarious. XDDD Okay I had to cut some stuff out because I didn't want to use all the funny stuff in this chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. I do own any characters I do create!
Chapter: The Woman.
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Vivre Sorté. He stared up at the beautiful sign with his hands on his hips. The labor of love that had taken him nearly two years and a fortune to complete. He smiled, tucking his hands into his pockets.
Yes, everything was perfect.
Except for one very small… insignificant detail.
"What do you mean that she's not talking to anyone?" He frowned several minutes later.
"She won't speak to anyone, sir. She says that the owners have insulted her." The busboy shrunk slightly under the black haired man's gaze. He was tall, brushing 6 feet. His height was only emphasized by the fact that he was thin and muscular, fitting neatly beneath his trim suit jacket. His dark brown eyes were unforgiving behind a pair of oval glasses.
"The owners?" He turned his head towards his partner in the corner of the room. The blonde shivered slightly, his hands over his head. "I should have known," his eyebrow twitched.
"I didn't do anything, I promise! I only asked her if she could…"
"You asked the woman to do something?" Kyoya's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his eyelids.
"You told me to! You told me that I needed to tell her not to burn the soufflé tonight…" the blonde shrunk further as his partner practically grew over him. The blonde normally stood a few inches above his counterpart but at this current moment he was hardly taller than a child. He had folded himself like a cinnamon roll into a ball. Kyoya could see the little golden band on Tamaki's left hand and half wondered where his wife was… before another shout in French streamed through the closed doors of the kitchen.
"You. Never. NEVER! Tell the cook what TO do and what NOT to do!" Kyoya's anger seemed to fill the room. The busboy shrunk away from them as well. "Now I HAVE TO GO SORT THIS OUT WITH THE WOMAN!" He stormed past the little ball of Tamaki Suoh and disappeared into the kitchen.
Kyoya Otori. At 21 he was the heir to the Otori family business and entrepreneur with his partner Tamaki Suoh. He was normally so cool headed… but when it came to that woman…
"Ohhh! Isn't this FANCY!" She hung her head as her father spun in a circle. His long red hair was curled about his face, his eyes sparkling. His crimson skirt suit made her chuckled, since he only brought it out if he thought it necessary. This seemed to be a night of necessity. He stroked her hair, smoothing the strands. "Your husband may be an idiot but this is amazing, I assume Kyoya will have done all the planning?"
Haruhi Suoh. At 20 she was married to the heir of the Suoh family fortune. Generally easy going but quick to become annoyed… but whenever that woman was around.
"Dad…" she eyed him out the corner of her eye. Her brown hair had grown out a bit, nearing shoulder length she had made an agreement with her husband that if they married she would grow her hair out again, though… she though half heartedly as she looked at herself in the window. She missed it being shorter. Her strapless dress was light blue and knee length, half of her wanted to wear a pair of pants but her father and husband had forced the damn thing on her. She examined herself once more, at least she looked good in this one.
"Let's go in, maybe we can get a snack from the chef!" Ranka grabbed her hand and dragged her inside. She was going to say that she had eaten enough of the snacks when they had been making the menu… but he didn't seem to want to listen.
As they walked into the restaurant the first thing they noticed was Tamaki sitting on a chair, his head in his hands.
Tamaki Suoh. At 21 he was the heir to the Suoh family fortune and entrepreneur with his partner Kyoya Otori. Normally cheerful and boastful he was unusually quiet and fearful when the woman was around.
"Tamaki?" Haruhi approached him as he looked up at her tearfully. "Is it her again?" She knelt down in front of him. He nodded his head, wiping his tears away.
"Haruhi, she scares me when she's angry…" he practically squeaked. He dropped his head onto her shoulder.
"I'm pretty sure she scares everyone when she's angry Tamaki," she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He sniffed again, his arms snaking their way around her.
He frowned as she turned to look at him again. "You, monsieur, need to take control of your staff members, they are insulting me!" He stared her down, his eyes cold. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a loose bun, her bangs pinned up in a backcombed "poof" as women liked to call it. Her vibrant blue eyes were set in a thin, perfectly shaped face. Her high cheekbones and strong jawbone were stretched with cream skin, which at the moment looked more like cream and blackberries. She was tall, thin and muscular. If he didn't hate her so much he would say the woman was beautiful.
"You shouldn't be storming about acting like a teenage drama queen, I've had enough of those girls." He lifted his metal clipboard as she lifted the little flamethrower that one used on a bruleé.
"You shouldn't be insulting your CHEF! Do you want these amateurs making what they think is world class food?" Her accent in Japanese was minimal, though at times he knew he heard the touch of French that Tamaki had. He watched her talk a little bit longer.
"Okay, here's what I'll do… I'll keep Tamaki out of the kitchens, would you stop acting like this?" He sighed heavily.
"YOU WILL KEEP HIM OUT?!" He immediately knew that was the wrong thing to say. What isn't? He thought wryly. She chased him out of the kitchen with her miniature flamethrower. He dropped into a chair next to Tamaki immediately, his board against his forehead.
"So what is going on?" Haruhi looked over at Kyoya who lifted his head from his clipboard.
"Oh, our chef is throwing a temper tantrum. Happens often." He rubbed his temples.
"You mean that woman is having another fit? So that's why he's like this?" Haruhi spoke from within her husband's arms. He was cuddling her happily, his face resting on her shoulder. Ranka sat a few feet away staring at them angrily.
"Yes, oh… dear…" He looked up as the blonde woman stormed out of the kitchen and into the dining room. She stopped in a flurry in front of him. Her vivid blue eyes were narrowed, the flamethrower spitting flame occasionally.
"You. Do. Not. Tell. ME! How to run my KITCHEN!" She leaned in to him. He leaned away from her wrath, his face unchanging.
"I own the restaurant." His face grew sour.
"I don't care. I own the kitchen. If you hire me and tell me to work in your kitchen. IT BECOMES MY KITCHEN!" She waved the flamethrower at him.
"FINE! Fine. Just please… do your job mademoiselle." Tamaki begged from Haruhi's embrace. She rounded on him with a nasty look.
"Leave him alone." Haruhi narrowed her eyes. "He hasn't done anything." The woman stepped back and turned to face Kyoya again.
"Fine, but keep your idiots out of MY kitchen!" She fumed and with another puff of her flamethrower she disappeared back into the kitchen. Kyoya seemed to deflate.
"Why do you keep her around? If she causes the two of you so much stress?" Ranka posed a question that even made Tamaki look at Kyoya.
"Because," he said sourly. "End of story."
To be honest… He couldn't think of any reason to keep her. He couldn't think of one damned thing. She was loud, obnoxious, spoiled and angry. There wasn't a single reason to keep her around. Except the fact that she was one of the most sought after chefs in the world… and it had taken a year of maneuvering to procure her services for the restaurant… not to mention, the instant that she was let go she would be sucked up by another restaurant… a fact she often held over his head.
Coralie Desdemona, often referred to by "The Woman" by Kyoya Otori. The 21 year old chef prodigy. Born to middle class French parents and the bane of his existence… and his most important employee.
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So… read and review… YAY!
Shalan
