Chapter 7

The event was much more fun than she had anticipated. The wedding reception had been so stress-filled that she hardly even remembered it, so much was the strain of being the focus of so many eyes, not to mention the subterfuge they were engaged in. But now, attending as a guest and not as a bride, she actually found the party pleasant.

Tamaki, like the gentleman he was, never left her alone for a minute but didn't make it feel like he was hovering. Instead, he introduced her proudly as his new bride and a brilliant new lawyer to people he knew she would find interesting—policymakers, academics, judges—all of whom gave her not only the opportunity to meet and make connections with influential people—but also afforded her the chance to wow them with her natural intellect and charm.

She wasn't sure what she had been expecting—maybe a bunch of stuffy businessmen who talked nothing but stocks with empty-headed wives who would hold absolutely no interest for her and would look down their noses at her commoner roots? Perhaps they were there, but they were not the people Tamaki mixed with.

Tamaki could see her bloom under the intellectual challenge of conversing with such fine minds, relaxing into the pleasure of debating important topics, drawing on her own sharp insights and excellent education. He glowed with pride at how remarkable she truly was.

"You are certainly making quite the impression, Mrs. Suoh," Tamaki said, smiling down at her later in the evening, when he had finally prevailed upon her to dance with him.

"I must admit I never expected to find so many interesting people at an event like this," said Haruhi, feeling pleasantly buzzed from two glasses of champagne. "In fact, I'm actually enjoying myself."

Tamaki laughed a warm laugh at that. "Not quite the firing squad you imagined?"

"I suppose I was a bit apprehensive," admitted Haruhi. "Maybe I expected a bit of judgement, given my background." Despite her commoner roots, she had tried to at least look the part—the lovely but simple empire-waisted dress the twins had provided her was elegant and emphasized her moderate bustline, its gauzy, blush-colored fabric swirling loosely about her frame making it quite comfortable. They knew her so well.

"No one in this room can hold a candle to you, Haruhi," said Tamaki, a bit more free with his emotions given his own indulgence in the champagne. "In terms of both brains…" he then leaned down to whisper breathily in her ear, pulling her close, "and beauty."

Haruhi felt a fluttering in her stomach at this. His strong arms around her, gracefully moving her across the dance floor, his beautiful eyes gazing into hers warmly—it was all making her feel somewhat giddy, her heart starting to beat faster. Suddenly she wished they weren't in a room full of people. Suddenly she wished she could reach up and kiss him. She could, couldn't she? She was his wife after all.

Just then the song ended and a dignified captain of industry type approached Tamaki. After making introductions, Haruhi excused herself to the restroom, feeling quite flustered after their dance. In the plush ladies' anteroom dotted with small poufy sofas, Haruhi grabbed a bottle of water and sat down in the softly lit area to get her bearings.

What was it with her and champagne and Tamaki? The combination seemed to make her libido go into overdrive. She really had to calm down. This is just fake, she told herself once again. She she had found herself over the past few months on more than one occasion sensing—maybe hoping?—that it wasn't. But tonight she couldn't help giving in to that warm feeling as she sat there, eyes closed, sipping her water, and smiling to herself.

"Well, if it isn't the little commoner boy …" Haruhi's eyes flashed open at the venomous words. Looking up at the beautiful red-haired woman in front of her, Haruhi had no doubt the person was addressing her.

"I beg your pardon?" said Haruhi, trying to maintain a dignified politeness. "Have we met?"

"Oh, really? You don't remember me? Well, I remember you," said the woman narrowing her beautiful but cold eyes at Haruhi. "Does attacking me over a table ring a bell? Back when you were a boy, Fujioka?" She smirked.

Oh, yes—that girl. The one who had thrown her bag in the pond and then accused Haruhi of assaulting her all those years ago. What was her name again? Ayanokoji?

"So you finally hooked him…" She leaned over Haruhi menacingly. "Who knew that the way to Tamaki's heart was cross-dressing?"

"I don't think you should pretend to know Tamaki at all," said Haruhi, feeling protective of her Senpai.

"No, you're right—I don't think it was cross-dressing that finally snagged Tamaki for you," she responded, an ugly note to her voice. "Judging by how suddenly your wedding took place, I imagine it had more to do with undressing."

Haruhi was speechless. "I must compliment whoever created your gown, however," said Ayanokoji, straightening up and tossing her shiny red mane. "Their ability to hide the reason for your hasty nuptials is admirable," she tossed over her shoulder loud enough for everyone to hear as she sauntered away. "Although it doesn't make up for your appalling lack of refinement."

By this point, most eyes in the cozy room were on Haruhi, with many of the women scanning her figure critically.

Haruhi tried to put on a brave face as she gradually stood up, smoothed down her skirts—suddenly the comfort factor of her dress seeming a damning detail—and exited, chin held high. She pretended not to see the disapproving stares, but her face was burning and her heart was hammering.

"Haruhi, what's wrong?" asked Tamaki, who had been keeping an eye out for her, as he came to her side.

"Oh, nothing—just a little overheated," she shrugged. "Is it okay maybe if we leave soon?"

"Of course, of course," he said, scrutinizing her face. Something had happened and he wasn't sure if he should press her. All of sudden she seemed so distant.

She continued to be quiet on the ride home, sitting as far away as possible from him, leaning her head against the window, staring at the rain that was just starting to come down. It broke his heart—they had been having such a wonderful evening together, and he was certain that during their dance she had responded to him pulling her close.

Taking a deep breath, Tamaki edged toward her, reaching across the distance between them to gingerly take her hand. "Haruhi, are you going to talk to me? Something happened back there, didn't it?"

"It wasn't anything really, Senpai," she sighed not looking at him and pulling her hand away. "Just a little reminder, something to bring me back to reality."

He didn't know what to make of that but before he could say anything, they arrived at the mansion.

She quickly moved up the stairs once they were inside, throwing him a quick goodnight and thank you, before scurrying into her bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Tamaki slowly made his way to his room, numbly going through the motions of getting ready for bed. As he slipped under the covers, he rehashed the evening in his mind once again. Why had she pulled away? Against his better judgement, he had slowly started feeling hopeful over the past few months. They had become so relaxed with one another—she seemed to truly enjoy his company. And tonight—if that old codger hadn't approached him when the song ended, he would have swept her out to a darkened terrace and tried to kiss her.

He might have still tried if she hadn't all of a sudden put up a wall between them. He fell into a fitful sleep, still brooding on the evening.