Chapter Four
An Irritatingly Enchanting Concoction
Disclaimer: I don't own CCS.
Oil and watercolour paintings of various techniques and sizes lined the walls, along with vintage photographs and portraits, in the immense, Baroque-styled ballroom. Situated throughout the floor were statues and sculptures, some old, others new, all carved by hand to perfection. In glass cases mounted on pedestals, were the smallest, most fragile items of jewellery, blue and white porcelains and crystal vases. Somewhere on one of the balconies a string orchestra was playing Symphony Number Whatever and the sounds of the strings in the impeccable acoustics of the room were a grater on the ears. Why was it always the same old symphonies every time? Were there no new compositions produced in the last fifty years?
Syaoran stifled yet another yawn. He had been standing for the past twenty minutes, listening to a friend of his mother's. The older gentleman spoke laboriously, and after having visited three continents earlier that day, and suffering through jet lag so he could make a brief appearance at this charity dinner/auction, Syaoran considered it an accomplishment that he was still awake. Sadly, he could not stalk off and disrespect the man even though he was severely tempted to, given his less than rested mind, not to mention his burgeoning foul mood. Nonetheless, nodding seemed to suggest that he was paying avid attention and so he did just that.
When his mother had asked him to attend this event in her place, he had forgotten he would run into these talkative types. That was what he got for showing up before dinner started and not bringing a date. All around him a few men and women were trying to make eye contact, but he stared at the gentleman determinedly. This was the last conversation he was going to have before the night came to an end. He could talk business for days but sometimes even he needed some respite.
One of the man's business partners came up to him in greeting and Syaoran took the moment to say, "I see a close friend of mine. Excuse me."
It was not a lie. Takashi was striding towards him, his usual impish grin on his face.
"Where's Miharu?" asked Syaoran.
Whenever they were in the same place, it was rare for Takashi and his wife to be seen apart. How they could stand each other's constant presence, he could never understand. The saying was absence made the heart grow fonder. Not perpetual, soul-sucking contact.
"You're still using her maiden name," said Takashi. "She's with Daidouji. I saw you dying over here. Best friend that I am, I came to your rescue."
"I didn't need saving."
"I'll remember that the next time I try to help your ungrateful ass," said Takashi, and he folded his arms, giving Syaoran a disapproving stare.
"Fine. You saved me. What do you want? A fucking award?"
"A fucking raise."
Syaoran threw him an amused look.
"All newlyweds in the corporation get a raise. That wasn't enough for you?"
Takashi raised an emphatic finger.
"Not for your saviour and best friend. Times are hard if you didn't notice. Which is likely…."
Swiping a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, Syaoran made to take a long drink before he listened to Takashi's financial woes, when he paused, a familiar flash of short, auburn hair catching his attention. The girl turned around and the sight of her bright, million-watt smile set his heart racing as easy as flipping a switch. She bit down on her bottom lip coyly, and something tugged hard in his abdomen, releasing warm ripples from deep within his belly to the very tips of his fingers. His eyes darted to Takashi, but his friend had not noticed the tremor that had run through his body.
"- didn't know weddings cost so much. Not all of us can write cheques with endless zeros. It left me near bankrupt all those -"
Syaoran nodded as though he was listening to Takashi, but every fibre of his being was homed in on that damn courtesan girl. He pulled at his collar. What was she doing here after that self-righteous speech about never seeing him again? He took a sip of his champagne, his gaze trailing along her ankle-length, dusty blue gown, refreshingly different from all the black ones in the ballroom. The gown had a one-shoulder bodice, and it was made of sheer, embroidered and bejewelled tulle, the nude lining hinting at her nakedness beneath. It was nowhere near as enhancing to her bosoms as the black dress had been, nor as flattering to her round, spankable rear end as the white dress, but it skimmed her body tastefully and he had to admit, she looked like the perfect lady.
Syaoran's brows knotted. Did he just think she was spankable? Angling his head, he took another look. If his hand crashed down on her behind, would she scream, squeak or beg for more? He took another sip of champagne to hide a lecherous smirk. She looked like a squeaker.
"-believe how much those shrimps cost. Don't let me even get started on the 'gourmet' watermelons-"
She slipped a lock of hair behind her ear and Syaoran ground his teeth together, resisting the urge to smack himself for his thoughts. He had sat with a half-naked, big-breasted girl between his legs - and she really did have a nice pair - and yet all he could hear, smell, see was the courtesan. Something was wrong there. Very wrong.
"-and of course, now her wedding dress is collecting dust in the closet, not that we paid for it but-"
Takashi walked off still talking about some dusty closet and Syaoran followed, his gaze glued to the courtesan. She looked up at the ceiling and revolved in awe as she stared at it. He glanced up too. Mouldings, chandeliers, a mural... what was so interesting? His gaze slid back down and connected with sparkling green. It was like a giant padlock had clicked in place, its incredible force echoing throughout the ballroom and reverberating in his chest.
He watched the girl's eyes go wide and the rosy hue drain from her cheeks. She stepped back and glanced around wildly before turning her back to him, her shoulders taut. Did she think that if she could not see him, he could not see her?
Takashi elbowed him in the side. Gesturing to the courtesan, he said jokingly, "Look at that. Shoji-kun stole your date. The bastard!"
For the first time since Syaoran had laid eyes on the courtesan, he took notice of the man beside her. Yamada Shoji. He was familiar with this friend of Takashi. The man ran his fingers down her arm, and she leaned in to whisper in his ears. He tried to keep his face neutral, but Syaoran could see the effect she was having on him; he could remember how it had felt to have those plump lips close to his ear, her breath hot on his neck, teasing him.
"He can keep her," he told Takashi. "And good riddance."
"Aww. Give the girl a break. She's just trying to make a living."
"Is that what they're calling it now?" asked Syaoran with contempt.
Takashi cast another look over at the couple.
"She's harmless."
"They always seem that way," Syaoran said, even though he agreed with Takashi's assessment.
The courtesan was indeed unlike the usual suspects. She was not as refined nor as slick as a typical escort from the infamous Hikaru House. It was odd that the equally infamous Matsushita would send her to clients. She just did not seem like the type who slept with men for money. Yet, despite what the stripper had said about her being inexperienced, she must be seriously good in bed. Why else would it cost so much to date her? It was not like she was a celebrity escort, like a model or an actress, where the price could be justified. She was by no means the most expensive one he had come across, but something was not adding up.
"You never told me what you said to her," said Takashi. "Eriol-kun said she asked to leave the club early? He's still pissed with you by the way."
Syaoran drank his champagne in silence. What he had said was between him and the girl. He was not even sure why he had bothered talking to her. However, her terrified behaviour moments ago was troubling. Had he been too harsh? He doubted that she had not heard worse in her line of work. All he had really wanted was for her to keep her distance. When she got close, it did something to him. But the girl just kept coming back for more, when all she had to do was shut up.
"It's her voice," he told Takashi.
"Her voice?"
"She insists on talking and the sound is irritating."
"It sounds normal to me."
"Well, it's not," said Syaoran, a sudden heat rising up the back of his neck. "It sounds like…"
Strawberries dipped in whipped cream.
"Nails on a chalkboard."
"You think so?" said Takashi, brows creased.
Syaoran knew what he heard. She must have practiced that voice a lot. One full of coquettishness and warmth. One that begged you with each breathy word to ravage her until she forgot her own name. That time when she had said it was a pleasure to meet him had sounded... extremely inviting. And those shy glances she sent from underneath her lashes were like hungry requests to use her body anyway he liked, and he had briefly thought - maybe was still thinking - of filling the proposition wholeheartedly. Fuck. When she said Eriol wanted her to come for him… he heard that so differently from the way she intended, he could have strangled himself.
He glared at the floor, silently chastising his dirty mind as he continued to follow Takashi. Where were these thoughts flying in from? They were getting out of control. She was no one important. And he had seen better. Much better. As a matter of fact, he had the best. His gaze flickered to her again and his insides trembled. Every time he looked at her all he wanted to do was touch her.
It was damn irrational and alarming.
This kind of thing did not happen to him.
He did not know the girl, did not particularly care to either and yet, he could not say exactly what it was, but she had it and he wanted it. All of it.
Maybe it was the way she looked all innocent in the beginning but when she parted her lips just a little, and squinted her eyes just like that, she morphed into an incredibly sensual seductress. Or maybe it was the graceful curve where her neck met her shoulder. Or the way she moved as she walked towards you, like a submissive nymph. Or it could be the way she touched her collarbone delicately whenever - what the hell?
He walked right into Takashi, who looked back at him with a strange glimmer in his eyes.
"What?" asked Syaoran.
"You were looking at the courtesan," said Takashi, like he was revealing something monumental.
"No, I wasn't."
"Yes, you were."
"You're seeing things."
"Seeing things? Who do I look like? Your fiancée?"
"No. Then you would be hearing things too."
Takashi chuckled.
"True. Chiharu told me, that she told her, that when you went to Beijing last month, a friend of hers who was staying at your hotel saw you talking to Bingbing. Took Chiharu a good thirty minutes to convince her not to show up and beat Bingbing's lights out."
Takashi was beaming like it was the most thrilling news he had heard in a while. Man, he liked to gossip. Syaoran shook his head in disgust as the memory came to him.
"I tried to tell her I didn't remember talking to any girl. That I didn't even know who this Bingbing was."
"She's one of the top models out right now! How could you not know her?"
"That's what she said..."
"Seriously, who doesn't know Bingbing?" asked Takashi. "No wonder you almost got your head chewed off. Do you know anything about pop culture?"
"Apparently not. I got threatened with the couch that night."
"Wow. Li Xiao Lang regulated to the couch."
"I never said I slept there. No one can put me out of my own fucking bed. Especially when I didn't do anything wrong."
"If we all were so lucky," said Takashi, grudgingly. "Women huh."
Syaoran nodded.
"Chiharu said that maybe if you took her on your business trips, she would feel more secure."
"I tried that a long time ago," said Syaoran. "She never told you? She wanted to have fun and go out together which was all well and good, but she underestimated just how much work I had to do. She felt like I didn't want her around. Then she thought I was, in her words, "fucking that Ivy League bitch Ming." She almost convinced Mother as well."
Takashi winced.
"It got ugly?"
"Very. We have an unspoken rule now. No spouses on business trips."
Syaoran emptied his glass of champagne down his throat.
"I don't know why she gets this way. You don't put ideas into her head, do you? You know you can be a compulsive story-teller and by that, I mean a no-good liar, when you're ready."
Takashi gave a sheepish smile.
"Maybe it's her friends? Let's see, Chiharu probably went into the dining room," he muttered, looking around, trying to catch sight of her.
He headed in the direction of the dining room and Syaoran glared at his back. Takashi had a way of joking around with a straight face that made people take his lies for hardcore facts, even when he said he was not serious. Between him and Eriol, it was a miracle he still had a relationship.
"I told her I was only going to be a minute, but it took a while to find you," said Takashi, anxiously.
Syaoran shook his head knowingly and Takashi's ears reddened. Chiharu had him tied around her fingers and everyone knew it.
They found her sitting at their reserved table. Syaoran plucked the card with his name on it from the tabletop and laid it flat as he sat down. It happened that five minutes later, the courtesan, thorn in his side as she was fast becoming, sat down with her latest date-victim, at a table of which he had plain view. She saw him. She did not make it obvious, but she saw him. She smoothed the sides of her updo with her palms, fidgeted with the strands of hair framing her face, shifted in her seat, and every so often there would be a brief glance in his direction.
It was not the first time Syaoran had gotten such a response from a woman, but it felt very satisfying to elicit it from her especially when she was trying not to react. There were other men at her table, vying for her attention like schoolboys in the midst of the prettiest girl in the class and yet, several tables away, he had her.
"Li-kun," said Chiharu. "I thought you weren't coming. Are you staying for the whole thing? Or just dinner?"
The courtesan took a sip of wine and sneakily peeked at him as she did so. He had not planned on remaining for the auction but...
"I'll stay."
It was minutes to eleven when the fundraiser ended. People were saying their goodbyes and drinking their last glasses of wine and champagne. Shoji had met a fellow artist friend and they were in a heated discussion about some controversial photograph that had been taken in Singapore. Sakura vaguely recollected hearing something about it but did not know enough to contribute to the conversation.
Sitting there with the two of them was a better experience than sitting there when the dining room had been full. Li Syaoran had been watching her the entire time with the most superior expression on his face. Her night had been great until she had seen him in the ballroom. After that, he was the only thing she could think about. Was he thinking she was a cry-baby? Annoying? She gulped. Or was he still thinking of paying her to undress? Every now and then something about his expression had said it was the latter.
"You can go out on the balcony if you want," said Shoji as his friend got up to tell a lady goodnight. "From there you can see the garden. The night sky here in the country is certainly something to behold."
Sakura took his suggestion and truly the stars seemed to shine much brighter than they did in the city. She leaned over the balcony to get a good look at the blooming garden below. It looked like it had been fashioned by an elf; she was sure wishes could be granted there. What a shame that no one else was appreciating it. They were too busy talking about their latest acquisitions. Nothing was wrong with that but goodness, they were missing out on something heavenly.
"You're blocking the view."
Sakura snapped around, her heart pounding hard against her ribcage. It took no time to recognize the frosty bite that was Li Syaoran's voice. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the balcony shadows, she found herself staring into his face. He was standing, arms folded loosely over his torso. And though there was no wind and the night was warm, Sakura squeezed the clutch in her hand and shuddered.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, chest heaving. "Sneaking up on people like that? It's not right."
Syaoran raised an eyebrow.
"I was here first," he told her. "You walked right past me."
Sakura scanned the balcony. It was possible. The lights were not on and Syaoran was standing in the dark. It was not like she had been expecting to see him. After the auction he had disappeared. She thought he had left.
Recalling what she had said to him the last time they were together, she was sure she should make a quick exit, but his gaze held her there. Unfolding his arms, he walked towards her, his cool gait reminding her of a wolf on the prowl. She would have stepped back but the balcony railings were already pressing into her lower spine.
Sakura gripped one of the railing bars tightly, drawing in a deep breath that was supposed to be steadying. Syaoran stood a foot away from her, chest out and head angled downwards to deliver a probing stare.
"Li-san," she said, greeting him properly.
He said nothing for a seemingly unending moment. Sakura gripped the bar tighter, trying to absorb some of the iron into her veins so he would not break her with whatever words were no doubt on the tip of his tongue. Unassumingly, Syaoran moved to stand beside her.
Her neck twisted as though he had it on a leash, pulling it around to keep her eyes on him. He took another long hard look at her before tilting his head in question. Sakura squinted not knowing what that question was.
"Aren't you supposed to be entertaining me?" Syaoran asked finally.
Sakura's head sank into her shoulders as he leaned in.
"I don't feel entertained, courtesan."
Sakura gave an apologetic grimace. Hardly able to breathe, she said, "With all due respect Li-san, Shoji-san is the only man I am required to entertain tonight."
Syaoran stood straight and his eyes narrowed. There was a primal simmer behind his brown stare, and she flushed as she yet again recalled what he wanted from her. It was wrong of him, but no one had ever expressed interest in her the way he had, so yes, she mulled over his words from time to time.
In disbelief.
"I didn't mean to impose on you," she told him, her legs weakening. "I'll go."
"Stay."
The command was unnecessary. She was unable to peel her fingers off the iron bar or break eye contact even though she wanted to. How could he be this in control all the time? So confident? So demanding, in a manner that expected compliance?
"Do you also need to be paid to have a conversation with a fellow guest?" he asked, stiffly.
"No," said Sakura, realising the harshness of her last grand statement. "You're right. But I didn't think you'd want to talk to me of all people."
"My options are limited," said Syaoran, blunt as a butter knife. "Obviously."
He peered out into the distance, hands in his pockets. Sakura released the balcony, no longer feeling trapped, and turned around to look out at the wide expanse of greenery with him. From the corner of her eyes, she watched him sulk. Why did she end up feeling bad when he was the one who needed the attitude adjustment? It was not like he was her client tonight.
She sighed quietly.
"Ano...did you enjoy the evening Li-san?" she asked, almost afraid to upset him by talking too loud or too cheerily. It was the only thing she could come up with for why he disliked her; as such, she took her energy level down a bit.
Almost reluctantly, he took a glimpse of her.
"I tolerated the evening," he said. "Giving to the less fortunate is noble but it would have taken less time to write a cheque than it did to put on this suit."
"That's what I thought!" exclaimed Sakura. "Maybe they're trying to make it exciting to donate? But I won't lie. I really liked seeing all the art-pieces. It makes me wish I was talented like the artists here tonight. I can't believe the things people can create with their hands. It's amazing, isn't it? If I was able to, I'd probably buy almost everything I saw!"
"There were some good pieces," he agreed.
"I saw that you bought a vintage watch," said Sakura, remembering how Syaoran had waited for the highest bid to be placed before placing his own, which was only contested once. "Is that something that interests you Li-san? Vintage timepieces?"
"Someone I know collects them."
Syaoran's facial features softened for a fleeting second.
"A special someone?" Sakura asked, sending a sly look his way, surprised by how much she really wanted to know if there was someone. After all, what woman in her right mind would put up with him? And what woman would he, with all his standards, find acceptable?
Syaoran looked down at her, like he was considering something. Then he turned to face her fully.
"Tall, slim men over 80 aren't exactly my type."
Sakura broke out in a huge grin and giggled.
"Oh. It's for a friend then?"
"Yes."
She held her clutch to her chest.
"That's sweet of you Li-san. You must care about him a lot to give him such a thoughtful gift."
Especially one that cost a super expensive 2.26 million dollars.
"He's been a mentor and friend for a long time. But it's not a huge matter like you're making it out to be."
"In this world where everyone pretty much just looks out for themselves, I'd say it is," said Sakura, sure of her words. "You could have purchased something for yourself, but you chose to make someone else smile."
She had known deep in her heart Li Syaoran was not all bad. No one was all bad. He may never like her but at least she had a new perspective of him, and it was impossible to see good in someone and not feel goodwill towards that person. Simply talking about this friend of his made him give off a different aura - one that was calmer and less hostile. This gentler side to him made her want to reach out and cup his cheeks and tell him it was all right to be nice and let his guard down. He was just like her brother! A pain in the-
"What?" asked Syaoran, peering down at her with suspicion.
"Nothing!" said Sakura. Biting down on her bottom lip, she wondered, had her thoughts shown on her face? In hopes that the question would distract him, she asked, "Why are you hiding out here?"
Syaoran did not quite smile but something about his eyes said that he was amused.
"I was not hiding," he said.
"Then what were you doing in the dark?"
"Attempting to... get away from..." He closed his eyes briefly in a sign of acceptance. "I was hiding."
She barely held in a laugh.
"Why?"
"Many people want to speak with me."
"You should be flattered."
"They wish to speak about business."
"I would think you would like that. Since women are bored by it, and men are not."
Syaoran cocked his head at her audacity. Sakura gave a stiff, wide smile and winced.
Hoe-eee...!
He inched closer to her, his gaze reprimanding.
"I welcome talk of business, yes, but there is a time and place for all things. This evening is not the time, and this is not the place for it."
"Instead of hiding, you could leave," she said humbly, lest she got on his bad side. "A lot of people are doing just that..."
Syaoran became still, like he had been caught doing something wrong.
"I could," he said, at length. "However, there are things I wanted to look at a little longer."
"And they're outside here in the dark?" She mentally smacked herself. "Oh! The view you mean."
"I've never seen one like it," he told her with such a smooth tone, it sent a shiver up her spine.
Sakura swallowed; her throat feeling constricted all of a sudden.
"Me neither," she said. "I..."
The chatter and music around them grew dimmer the longer Syaoran searched her face for the rest of her unspoken words. A light wind blew from the east, sending wisps of hair across the bridge of her nose. She reached up to slip them behind her ear but stopped. Syaoran's fingers were poised inches from her face. Her sudden halt seemed to have frozen him as well and his expression said he was completely perplexed. Slowly, he withdrew his hand and fisted it at his side.
"Li-kun!"
The moment broke and they both looked around to find a pale young woman with long, dark hair, standing under the balcony doorway.
"I wonder, do you have a pen I can borrow?"
Her voice made Sakura think of fairy dust. Syaoran patted the pockets of his black Chinese suit and shook his head, no. Sakura though, fished inside her clutch and pulled out a pink pen with wings at the ends. Why she packed this childish one, she had no idea.
"Here," she said. "You can have mine."
The woman's face lit up. She took the pen and clutched it to her chest. Sakura expected her to leave and go about her business, but she just stood there.
"Who are you?" she asked, sounding almost breathless.
"Sakamoto Ayame," said Sakura.
"I am Daidouji Tomoyo. It is indeed a pleasure to meet you for the first time."
"Daidouji?" Sakura grinned. "I loved your dresses!"
"You did? I am so glad. I cannot believe people bought them all. My night has truly ended in the best possible manner now that such a beautiful creature expressed her approval of my designs!"
Sakura tilted her head.
"Eh?"
"You simply must model for me sometime-"
"Daidouji," said Syaoran. "Leave the woman in peace."
"But she will be perfect to model my designs."
"I'm sorry Daijouji-san but-"
"Call me Tomoyo," said the woman to Sakura.
"I'm sorry Tomoyo-san-"
"Chan, please. We can be the best of friends."
Sakura did not have to respond to this odd declaration because a brown-haired girl whom she had seen sitting with Syaoran and Takashi earlier, hurried over to Tomoyo and started tugging her away.
"I've been searching for you," she said. "Come on."
"I will return your pen," said Tomoyo as she left, most unwillingly.
"Keep it," said Sakura.
"Oh, thank you Ayame-chan! I will cherish it forever and-"
Sakura did not hear the rest. Tomoyo was too far away.
"That was..."
"Daidouji," said Syaoran, shaking his head.
"You're friends with her?"
"More like an acquaintance."
"She's a bit..."
"Looney."
Sakura snickered, for a moment forgetting to be intimidated by Syaoran.
"I wouldn't put it quite like that," she said, walking into the bright ballroom.
"Ayame-san," called Shoji as he approached them. "Ready to go?"
"Hai," she said, though she was the one who had been waiting on him.
"Li-san," said Shoji, bowing.
Syaoran gave him a curt nod.
"Yamada."
Shoji placed his palm on the small of Sakura's back. Normally, she would not think twice about it, however, Syaoran was unabashedly observing their every interaction.
"It's been a while," Shoji said to him.
"You two know each other?" asked Sakura.
"Li-san's mother commissioned me to do a painting once. Took me about eight months."
"Wow," said Sakura. "You're one of the most dedicated men I know, Shoji-kun."
She did not think she could commit to one thing for such a long a time. He pulled her closer as he nervously laughed, denying her compliments. Sakura wrapped a hand around his waist and flashed a smile, enjoying watching him loosening up. When she had first met him, he did not say much but she had gotten him to be more social and talkative.
"You are the best artist here," she insisted, when he said there were others much better than himself. "The way you mix colours… I'm no expert… but it makes me feel like the paint has emotions. You tell beautiful stories with them. I could stare at your paintings for hours and not miss the real world."
Though she was lavishing Shoji with attention she could not help but cast a sidelong glance at Syaoran. Her heart jolted. He was still watching them. No. He was watching her. Her skin prickled and once again, she felt him on every inch it.
"Goodnight, Li-san," Shoji told Syaoran. "Ayame-san has to go home now so we'll be leaving."
Syaoran gave a firm nod and walked away.
As she stared at his back, she realised that he had surprised her. She had expected him to be his usual abrasive self, but he was actually rather normal. If he could be that way when she was dating someone else, why was he so different when she had come for his company? She smiled softly as Shoji led her out of the mansion. She and Li Syaoran had ended things well at last and she felt she could live with that.
