6:00 a.m.

The first alarm went off.

6:10 a.m.

The second alarm went off.

6:22 a.m.

The third alarm went off.

6:25: a.m.

The first alarm was spared, because it was on his phone, and he could not damage his phone at any cost.

The second alarm was partially spared, because Tamaki had given it to him for his last birthday, and as much as the teddy bear shape annoyed him, Tamaki would make a fuss if he didn't see it by Kyouya's bed the next visit.

The third alarm, which was the oldest one from his childhood, had survived numerous repairs since the first time Kyouya threw it across the room.

"Good morning, Kyouya-sama," Tachibana said as he emerged from his bedroom, cleanly shaven and dressed, but still in foul humor.

"Tachibana," he acknowledged.

"Your agenda for today-" In addition to being his bodyguard, Tachibana had, over the years, taken the role of Kyouya's personal assistant. Admittedly, the youngest son of the Ootori family did not like anyone else managing his schedule despite the overwhelming requests for meetings, conferences, and personal matters to attend to. Tachibana often thought that Kyouya would do well with a personal assistant or a secretary, obviously a reliable one, but his master had a hard time delegating. So Tachibana was the only one with full access to his schedule, and was the one who went over the daily agenda with him over breakfast.

"Main breakfast at the Palace Hotel with the Al-Jamil family, followed by a conference call with the New York branch. Half-hour for lunch, and then a meeting with the lawyers regarding Bisco merger, another meeting with Hatori-san regarding the newest marketing material, and then a public appearance with the chairman and Ootori-san. I believe there was a call with the San Francisco branch around dinner, and then a brief visit to the laboratory-"

Kyouya, who had been nodding along, put down his coffee. "I cancelled the dinner and the visit, Tachibana," he said.

Tachibana stirred. On the one hand, he didn't want to question his master. On the other hand, he didn't want the repercussions of his master missing important meetings.

"Are you sure?" he finally decided on asking.

"Make a reservation for two at La Rue for dinner. We'll make a short stop at the Project on the way." The Project-that was what Kyouya said to refer to his latest venture.

"Yes, Kyouya-sama," Tachibana said, his mind whirling with curiosity. His charge had taken to visiting the Project more often than Tachibana thought he would, and while that put a significant dent in his schedule, Tachibana couldn't help but notice that Kyouya seemed to be in a much better mood whenever he came back from his visits. More energized, should he say. More motivated, and in a straightforward, young kind of way.

"It's nothing special," Kyouya said, as if reading Tachibana's mind. "One of the members is giving me a briefing."

But Tachibana knew well enough to notice that, unlike most times, Kyouya was explaining his reasons for going somewhere.

Noel the cat meowed beneath the table, asking for a piece of bacon. It seemed that the cat knew something was up, too.

6:48 p.m.

Waiting. Kyouya was used to it, really, and it usually meant that he had the advantage in whatever situation it was. He was on time for the meeting, and the other party wasn't?-certainly, being late could be a power play, and he has pulled it off on certain occasions, but being late often meant being flustered, uncertain about their entrance. Not a good strategy. So he didn't expect punctuality from everyone, knowing that it could put them at a disadvantage.

This time, however, he was irritated.

That annoying woman. That was what he'd gotten used to calling her in his head. Yes, he had come across many annoying females in his short lifetime, starting from middle-school girls who giggled in the corner whenever the boys had to exercise by themselves to fans of the Host Club that threw themselves at the members. Things were somewhat better in university, because less people were interested in flirting with Asians in general in the U.S., and not everyone knew the significance of the Ootori family. Quite honestly, Kyouya did not mind the peace and quiet of his university days at all. Then began his life outside of school, in Japan, in the U.S., all over the world, really, and again he came across so many different people, including women-including annoying women.

This particular one took the cake.

Granted, she didn't possess many characteristics that annoying females usually possessed. Her voice wasn't affectedly high; in fact, she was rather deeper-voiced and didn't even talk all that much. She didn't flirt with him at all, seeming quite satisfied to escape from his field of vision every time he paid a visit to the Project. But he had time to kill and think of all the ways he was wasting his time waiting for someone who was so annoying.

Zero. She was not punctual. Proof-the present moment.

One. She looks at him with suspicious eyes.

Two. She is always rolling her eyes sarcastically when she thinks he's not looking.

Three. She has annoyingly good ideas and refuses to share them with him directly. She will only speak to her coworkers.

Four. She has the irritating way of making him question his judgement. He would not have felt any kind of remorse at having done what he did to her before. He truly believed that his course of action was going to benefit both of them-she could escape the clutches of working with that half-ape Hirose and he would get a proficient employee. He matched her previous salary and more, damn it. But he remembered how dejected she'd seemed when they paid the visit to the watchmaker's shop and, as much as he liked to push that memory out of his head, he was bothered by the possibility that he might've done more harm than good to his investment.

Five. She keeps drawing his attention to see how she's reacting, even though her reactions are not crucial to the business. At. All. But he supposed it had to do with her making him question his judgement. He didn't care for her opinion itself, not really.

Six. She had a horrible sense of fashion. Proof-oh yes, she was finally coming out of the building.

Flannel shirt. Jeans. Sneakers. Seriously, who wore clothes like that after high school? She did, apparently, and they were not even flattering shirts or jeans. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows to keep them out of the way. There were greasemarks on her forearm, probably from erasing the whiteboard with her arm instead of the eraser. Stupid woman. Her dark hair, which had a slight wave to it, was carelessly tied behind her head. The only saving grace of the whole attire was that the first few top bottoms were left undone-probably to make breathing more comfortable than anything else, Kyouya bet-exposed the line of from her jaw to her neck and the beginning of her collarbones which, Kyouya had to admit, had a graceful appeal.

Not that that was relevant in any way.

"You're late," he said curtly. If only she knew how many reshuffling he had to do with his schedule to make this dinner. Perhaps he should mention it, just to make her feel worse.

"Sugimoto-san had a last-minute idea and we had to document it, so that we could come back to it," Tenri-san retorted. "I'd say the potential idea may be more profitable than ten minutes of your time in the long run."

Unlikely, he wanted to retort back, but he chose a less petty path. "I see you're as charming as ever." Well, less petty did not mean mature.

Oh yes, number seven. She made it so fun to tease her, he couldn't help but succumb to immature comments.

"Seeing as I'm getting dinner from you," Tenri-san said. "Or am I not? Am I buying you dinner? That would be mighty stingy of you, no?"

"Let's go, Tachibana," Kyouya said instead, refusing to dignify the taunt with a response. After several weeks of his visits, she still wanted to accuse him of being stingy?

The ride to La Rue was quiet. Tenri-san yawned several times discreetly, and the effect of a week's work showed on her face. Kyouya, of course, did all he could to keep his appearance flawless, and that did mean, to his chagrin, regular exercise and spa treatments. She had none of that. She just looked… normal.

And now he was staring at her again. Which he had no business doing. So he opened his laptop and answered numerous emails until they reached the restaurant.

"Oh, are we eating here?" Tenri-san asked, sounding surprised. Kyouya was surprised that she even knew the place.

"Yes," he said, refusing to give in to his curiosity. How did she know the place? Why? When?

"Alright," she said. Tachibana opened the door and Kyouya let her get out of the car by herself. No use being chivalrous towards her, she probably would roll her eyes at him again.

"Welcome to La Rue, Ootori-san," the maitre d' bowed as Kyouya entered. "Let me guide you to-oh, hello, Tenri-san." The surprise of seeing her seemed to break him out of his composed politeness for an instant as the maitre d' looked at Tenri-san with a smile. The surprise, however, didn't match Kyouya's, who did not expect Tenri-san to know this place, let alone the maitre d'.

"Eh, good evening, Nakamura-san," she said, looking a little embarrassed and more than out of place in her jeans and shirt. "How have you been? It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yes, it has-" this Nakamura seemed to realize that he was keeping Kyouya waiting, and bowed in apology. "Excuse me, Ootori-san. Let me lead you to your table." And as they walked among the diners, Kyouya noticed that Tenri-san looked around, not with wonder, but with familiarity.

So much for putting her in an uncomfortable environment to make her understand his social position. With her constant wariness, he felt that a certain amount of intimidation might be due-but no. She was in her element. Somehow.

"I'll let the chef know you're here," Nakamura continued, but the words were directed at Tenri-san, not him. He left without showing them the menu or the wine lists, and Kyouya frowned after him.

"He's usually better at his job," he said.

"Nakamura-san? He's the best, don't tell me that you're going to get him fired."

Kyouya felt his annoyance increase. "I certainly don't get people fired arbitrarily, Tenri-san," he said. Seriously, was that all she thought of him?

"Good. I learned a lot from him, I'm sure he's still passing on his knowledge to others."

It took a second for her words to sink in. "You used to work here?"

Tenri-san nodded. "It's been a while, but when I was in college, my scholarship couldn't cover everything, and I didn't have a lot of time. I didn't have much interest in the service industry, but the hourly wage was the best here. Nakamura-san taught me all about the intricacies of silverware arrangement."

The intricacies of silverware arrangement was something Kyouya knew since five, but he supposed it wasn't the best thing to bring up. His thought must've shown on his face, however, because she rolled her eyes. Openly.

Damn her.

"Of course, I'm sure you knew all about it since the moment of your birth, Ootori-san."

"Of course," Kyouya countered. "Social etiquette was an integral part of my upbringing. Speaking of which, they seem to have completely forgotten us."

"I don't think so?" Tenri-san said, and, at the speak of the devil, Nakamura showed up with two flat plates.

"Our finest ratatouille," he said, setting the plates down gracefully. "The chef's specialty. Daiko-san sends his regards, Tenri-san."

"Thank you, senpai," Tenri-san said, smiling at him. Kyouya watched them. It was certainly an experience, not being the center of the wait staff's attention.

And seeing her smile.

It changed her entire face. Her eyes, usually grave and serious, softened with humor. Her full lips pulled back to place two dimples on her cheeks. As she turned her head to bow in thanks, her neck stretched, revealing a tantalizing line.

What?

Kyouya picked up his fork and stabbed the aubergine.

"So Nakamura-san has decided the entire evening's meal for us," he commented drily. Nakamura-san, true to form, did not react to this jibe but poured an unknown white wine into their glasses.

"Only you must know, Tenri-san," he said in a fake-conspiratory tone to Tenri-san that was clearly audible to Kyouya. "This is a California wine, only two years old. No one's ordered it yet because it's not a famous vineyard, but we all agree that it goes best with the ratatouille."

"Thank you, Nakamura-san," Kyouya said loudly. Nakamura merely bowed before walking away.

"You have friends in some unusual places," Kyouya said. Tenri-san was still smiling, and the effects of the smile, he had to admit, was even nicer than the refreshing white wine. He would ask Nakamura which vineyard it was from, but it seemed that the staff of La Rue had conspired against him.

"I suppose it's luck," Tenri-san said. "I didn't expect to come here tonight."

And Kyouya was an idiot for forgetting to check her part-time jobs during college. He knew she worked, but he didn't bother to memorize the restaurant's name, thinking it would be a common one that he wouldn't recognize anyway.

"So, Ootori-san," Tenri-san continued as they waited for the second course. "Why am I here?"

"Why? Do I need a reason for taking my employee out on a dinner?"

Again with that suspicious look. Oh well. Straight to the point it is.

"I can't drop by several times a week," Kyouya said. "Not permanently, anyway, and we don't know how long this project will last. I need an on-site person."

"Great. Tanaka-san will be more than glad to be bribed with free dinner."

"I want you," Kyouya said, masking his seriousness with a breezy air and a mocking smile. "Because I know you'll be impartial."

And he knew he was right. Next to Chiba-san, she was the most widely read in different subjects, and most committed to staying up-to-date with the latest developments. While her people skills could use some work, that was not a relevant factor in this particular regard. She liked to listen to others without necessarily having an agenda, and, as ineffective as Kyouya found that particular trait in business, it would serve him well in this instance.

"You want me to rat my colleagues out," she stated drily.

"You make it sound like I don't have their interests at heart."

"I think you have your interests at heart."

"And their success will bring me profit."

"How altruistic of you," she said, her mouth twisting ironically.

"I'm being straightforward, Tenri-san," Kyouya said. "This is business. I take care of my investments."

Clearly, the word "investment" didn't agree with her. "I think you'd work better with a different member, Ootori-san," she said.

"I disagree-"

"Hi, Miho-chan." Kyouya heard the voice from behind him and looked around. What he found made him want to throw his chair at it in frustration, but he settled for a loud exhale.

Hirose Ichiru did not impress him, even as a child. Certainly, his family owned an alternative energy research company, and certainly, their business had a lot of potential. But the boy was a simpleton, even from a young age. Needed a leader among his friends to decide his extracurricular activities. Some might find that openness attractive, but Kyouya found it-well, useful, in the most positive sense. He could manipulate Hirose like a soft clay.

Oh yes, reason number eight as to why Tenri-san was so annoying: she had the bad sense to be in love with this idiot. Seriously?

"Second course!" Kyouya really wanted to question if Nakamura was watching the table to come at the most inopportune moments. He wouldn't put it past the maitre d'. He was good at his job, after all. Good at reading the flow of the restaurant hall. "Salmon mousse with cucumber slices and daikon…"

"Thank you, Nakamura-san," Tenri-san said quietly, and Kyouya was oddly satisfied to observe that Tenri-san was refusing to look at Hirose.

"Miho-chan," Hirose began.

"Really, Hirose," Kyouya drawled. "Don't you know it's impolite to interrupt a dinner conversation?"

That clearly got on Hirose's nerves. "Ootori, you-"

"Enough," Tenri-san said, her voice surprisingly strong and stern. "I've had enough of you."

Kyouya couldn't tell exactly why it gave him such satisfaction to see that sentence directed at Hirose, but it did.

"Miho-chan…" Hirose trailed off, not having expected such severity.

"That's what my friends call me," Tenri-san said, just as sharply. "My friends, I imagine, who will at least give me a heads up when they plan to sell out a company that we've built together for three years. If not, you know, actual conversation."

Hirose sighed. Perhaps he wasn't used to seeing Tenri-san infuriated at him, Kyouya mused. She had been infatuated with him for a long time, after all.

Him, on the other hand, had to deal with infuriated Tenri-san for months. He had full immunity.

"Even to this day, you haven't apologized properly," Tenri-san continued. "And at this point, I don't want to hear your apology. Your estimation of me has ceased to matter. I have nothing else to say to you. Please don't try to call me again. Make business inquiries through him-" A pointy gesture at Kyouya- "or someone within my team. Good day, Hirose-san." With those words, Tenri-san gulped down the remainder of the wine in her glass. Most unlady-like, but most satisfying.

Nakamura poured her another glass.

Kyouya had a chance to glimpse Hirose's crestfallen face before turning his attention back to her.

"You seem entertained," Tenri-san said drily.

"Oh, yes," said Kyouya and Nakamura together. Kyouya felt an unwilling smile on his lips. Perhaps he and Nakamura could get along in the future.

"So that was the famous Ichiru-kun, huh?" Nakamura said, contemplative. "I must say, I'm not impressed. He looks like such a willow, Tenri-san." With those words he magically disappeared.

"A willow?" Kyouya asked, arching his eyebrows.

Tenri-san shrugged. "It's what we used to call a certain type of customers."

"I see." And then: "so you're no longer hopelessly in love with him, then?"

The outrage on her face gave him as much amusement as the strange satisfaction he'd felt minutes ago. "What's wrong with you?" she demanded.

"It was a question." Kyouya gave up trying to suppress a smile and began to snicker.

Tenri-san sighed, resigned. "I knew you knew," she muttered.

"It's my job to know, Tenri-san," he said.

"And I'm not even afforded the dignity of embarrassment?"

"Embarrassment of what?"

Tenri-san gave him a look.

"What?"

"Come on," she said, exasperated.

"I'm afraid I don't know."

"You don't know the embarrassment of not having your feelings requited? Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot who I was talking to. You must've had girls fawning over you at every turn."

At least she didn't think I was a heartless emotionless machine, he supposed. "I don't see how that should be embarrassing. Attraction is not unlike business. One is attracted to one from whom there is something to gain. The fact that Hirose thought he had nothing to gain from you says more about him than you, no?"

She looked at him with a look that was hard to define. Was that outrage, or was there a glimmer of appreciation?

"In any case, I personally don't think there's anything to be embarrassed about. It was highly entertaining, though."

"You like seeing strange men get put down in their places?" Again, that grudging smile began to poke tiny dimples into her cheeks.

"He's not a stranger, we went to school together until university. I thought he was a simpleton."

This made Tenri-san laugh out loud. She had to quickly stifle it as their neighbors regarded her display of humor as a case of impoliteness, but she kept snickering beneath her breath.

"A simple… ton… Oh, god," she chuckled, her face going red. Somehow, the fact that he'd made her laugh this hard made Kyouya smile imperceptibly, too.

"I suppose no, I'm no longer hopelessly in love with him," she managed to choke out, drowning another glass of wine in a single swallow. "I've thought a lot about our time since the company was sold, and…" she sighed. "I think it's good that our partnership ended. Or things would've had to change drastically." Kyouya repressed the urge to say that that had been his exact evaluation.

"I'd thought as much." Oh well. He tried.

Tenri-san rolled her eyes. "You're such a pine," she said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"A pine," Tenri-san repeated. "That what we-the people who worked here-used to call people like you. Stuck-up elitist-well," she said, seeming a little abashed. But both of them could fill in the blank.

"And what's a willow?" he asked, choosing to overlook that particular insult. Of all the insults, calling a high-class individual "elitist" didn't seem to be the worst one.

"A willow is… well, someone who's a pushover, who keeps changing their mind… like the tree in the wind." Tenri-san looked carefully around the restaurant. "That person, for instance. She's a willow."

Kyouya looked at the direction of her finger. The woman in question was the middle daughter of a fabric manufacturing company, and he'd seen her enough in soirees to know that she was quite mild-mannered and unopinionated.

"Very good," Kyouya said. "That's Kirin Hana. The docile second daughter of the Kirin group."

"You know all these people?" again with the eyeroll.

"Most of them."

"Well, then, you could probably tell me who that rose is," she said, pointing at a middle-aged man to her right.

"A rose?"

"Pain-in-the ass boss who's impossible to please, but has a lot of resources at hand."

Kyouya suppressed a smile. She was a perceptive one. "He's a board member of Sony."

"Am I wrong?"

He looked into her eyes, now bright and playful. There was no malice or frustration now, just simple enjoyment… of his company?

"No, you're not wrong," Kyouya grinned. "So what other types of trees are in this arboretum?"

9:11 p.m.

For the next hour and a half Kyouya learned more about the ins and outs of the people working at La Rue and, from what he could tell, Tenri-san learned more about socialite gossip than she ever thought was possible.

"Now that is an Armani tie, from a collection two years ago." Kyouya could pronounce this with some degree of confidence. Tenri-san scoffed.

"I don't see how that's even relevant, other than it supports my original hypothesis. He's an absolute rose!"

Kyouya shrugged. "I agree. But to be clear: a rose with an urge to stay current in fashion."

Tenri-san shook her head bemusedly. "Of all the things you need to know. Do you memorize the entire New York fashion week catalogue every year?"

"No," Kyouya said. "But my brother does. He's quite vain."

Tenri-san smiled for what must've been the hundredth time that evening, and Kyouya found himself admiring the curve of her lips again. "Which one?" she asked.

"The eldest. He's also the most handsome one, according to everyone."

"Poor onii-san," Tenri-san taunted. "Trying so hard."

Poor Yuichi indeed. First son, the most handsome, everyone's attention first went to him. Kyouya didn't resent his oldest brother-anymore, that is-but Yuichi certainly didn't deserve Tenri-san's pity. But he knew she was being ironic, and she knew he would take it that way.

Kyouya had eaten at La Rue before, but no to such an extent as tonight. Fueled on by comradery, Nakamura brought out twelve different plates before offering five different kinds of dessert and, while Kyouya opted for a cup of coffee, Tenri-san watched with fascination how her creme brulee would jiggle whenever she poked it with a spoon. Even the chef himself came out to greet Tenri-san and politely introduced himself to Kyouya, who thanked him for a lovely meal.

"Now," Tenri-san said, her lips looping into a tipsy smile. And understandably so-she'd had more than six glasses, if he counted correctly. The thing is, he did not find this as irritating as he did in other people. "You say you're a regular here, but I don't know if you've ever used the alcove."

"The alcove," Kyouya repeated, amused.

"Oh yes," she said. "You can ask for a private setting, naturally. But the alcove has two exits, so that people can actually dine together without others realizing that they were, indeed, dining together. Now, one exit is there-" she nodded at the door by the lamp- "and the other one is right by the maitre d'."

"I have not heard of this feature," Kyouya said. Tenri-san shook her head disapprovingly.

"Your preliminary research is sorely lacking, Ootori-san."

"So it seems, Tenri-san."

"A fatal flaw for men in your position." But then, the movement from the door by the lamp caught both of their attention. A man entered the main dining hall, looking tidy and indifferent. Tenri-san's gaze immediately went to the place where maitre d' was usually found, and indeed, there was a woman exiting already with a coat in her arms. But the man occupied Kyouya's attention.

"Akito onii-san," he said in greeting, feeling the relaxed laughter melt off his face. He stood up to greet his brother, who clearly was not expecting-and did not rejoice in-seeing Kyouya.

"Ah, Kyouya," Akito said, patting Kyouya on his back. His face was flustered. "How fortuitous. Twice in one week."

"Indeed," he said. "I didn't realize you were also here."

"I was dining in the back… I must've missed you." Again, that uneasy shuffling of the feet. Kyouya acted as if he didn't sense anything out of place.

"Well, then," Kyouya said, the tone of finality clear in his voice. "I must get back to my dinner. See you later."

Akito's face couldn't be more relieved. "Later," he muttered.

Tenri-san had been watching this with tipsy interest, and Kyouya felt her curious gaze as he sat down again. "Onii-san?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. "Not the first one. The second."

"Ah," Tenri-san said. "Why didn't you ask about his girlfriend?"

"For the same reason I didn't ask about his wife. I don't want to know."

His voice was cool and indifferent, but something must've shown on Kyouya's face. Tenri-san immediately sat up straighter and looked abashed again.

"I apologize," she said. "I didn't mean to pry."

"The situation called for it."

"I…" clearly, there wasn't much to be said from Tenri-san's side, either. "I'm sorry?"

"For what?" His question came out harsher than he intended.

"For the fact that your family… is going through… a difficult marriage."

Kyouya shrugged. "We're the Ootoris. We don't have easy marriages. The only problem comes when there's a disgraceful marriage."

"Oh." Tenri-san looked confused. "And what happened there was-"

"Meaningless, unless Akito means to make the relationship public," Kyouya said. He could feel how blank his face and his voice was, and he could tell that it was throwing Tenri-san off.

No point in worrying about that. She had no business understanding the inner workings of the Ootori family dynamic. Especially seeing as it was a question that even the Ootoris did not fully wish to ask themselves.

"Tenri-san," Kyouya paused, wondering if saying the following things to her was even worth the effort. "Fifty percent of couples who get married end up divorcing each other. This is fifty percent who bothered to do so. The other half might as well have gotten divorced, if they didn't have children or weren't too busy with work or any number of things. We might live in a modern world, but the society that I am in… well, Akito knows what his actions could mean," Kyouya ended ambiguously, seeing Tenri-san's face grow more and more somber with each sentence.

Reason number nine she was so annoying: for some reason, she seems to take things so sincerely. Why can't she be more blasé? Her reactions to him, what he said, what he did, made him uncomfortably aware of what he was, what he said, what he did. That what he acted like was the norm was in fact not the norm, and that there were other ways of being.

What would she know? She didn't know him. She certainly didn't know his world.

"Well, then," Kyouya said. "As delightful as the evening was, I'm afraid I have another meeting to attend."

He didn't realize that he'd forgotten to discuss business matters with her entirely.