Chapter 9
"Why?" he asked back. "Why won't you be that person?" The kind of person to ruin him. Or anyone, really.
Kiyoko shook her head and shrugged. "It doesn't feel right."
"Then what feels right to you?" Kyouya raised an eyebrow. "Working in a fraudulent industry?"
She laughed and held a hand over her heart in mock pain, as if an arrow had been shot. She rolled her eyes. That was good. The art industry was all inflated numbers for the rich and elite. The higher the number, the bigger the clout. Who could blame Kiyoko for capitalizing on it all? He probably didn't mean it as a joke but the woman was quick to dismiss the comment as anything but offensive. It was the truth.
"I'm just the middleman," Kiyoko responded. "My artists need to get paid and the rich have plenty of money to spare," she shrugged. Swindling the rich and elite did not weigh heavily on her conscience.
He was surprised at her laughter. It was light-hearted and genuine. Kiyoko laughed at the irony of it all, unoffended by the comment. His lips twitched upward when he saw her enjoying herself. She wasn't so terrifying – not like this. Not as a woman who could take a joke and recover as gracefully as that.
"Is this what Hosts do?" she wondered when she got over the humour. "Entertain women? Was that the peak of your years at Ouran?"
"We flirted too," Kyouya added, stepping closer to her. Kiyoko didn't flinch having already expected the move from the man. They had gotten close like this before – he didn't scare her.
"So," Kiyoko raised an eyebrow. "You also worked in a fraudulent industry – capitalizing on the emotions of young women. Selling a need of being wanted or attended to until the day was over or if their funds ran out."
The man blinked. Well, she wasn't wrong but it sounded terrible when someone worded it as such. Tamaki would have interrupted immediately to explain the whole thing as something about delivering happiness to women who were at their most vulnerable. Kiyoko smiled when she had the man speechless. For goodness sake, it was over a decade ago. The man was still hung up on his heydays of being a teenager, wasn't he?
Kiyoko nodded with a smirk. "Sounds fun."
She moved along without dwelling too much on the topic. She let the man off the hook. Kiyoko moved up the stairs to the second floor where the glass windows overlooked the courtyard. She walked down the hall through a few aisles of books before arriving at her favourite place. It was her nook that she used to sit in for hours on end.
"You know, people get charged for talking to me right?" Kyouya called out to her when she trailed ahead.
The woman laughed quietly and ignored him. She let him follow if he wished to. The heavy fabric of her dress flowed with her hips that climbed up to the top of the stairs. She took her time, making sure each step was grounded to keep her balance in those 4 inch heels. Kyouya tried prying his eyes away respectfully but she didn't seem to care enough to see if he stared.
Kiyoko was finally able to ease the pressure on the balls of her feet by sitting on the wooden ledge beside the window she spent hours at. The velvet cushion had been replaced since she graduated, no longer showing the scuff marks of where she had laid her feet across the entire panel. Kiyoko swung her legs across the pane for old times' sake, revealing her legs from the high-cut of the fabric in her dress. She lifted one knee as the other rested straight against the velvet. She peered out the window with her back against the wall. It must have been nearly midnight by now. The moonlight filtered through the glass, illuminating her face and the soft curls of her long hair.
Kyouya leaned against the shelf of books a few feet away and took in the sight of her milky skin with the twinge of blue from the light. Her diamond earrings sparkled in the sea of black hair that tucked behind her ears. Her legs sprawled against the red velvet showed enough skin to make him feel like he had been ogling for far too long when she spoke.
"There's enough room for two," she offered with a pat on the velvet cushion. "It's nice," Kiyoko added, still looking out the window. "The courtyard isn't the prettiest in the winter but it's still something."
She shifted closer to the window to make a little more room for the man. Kyouya cautiously walked closer to the spot that she comfortably made herself at home in. He sat by her knees, his back facing the courtyard and his body tilted towards her instead. He was careful to not touch her, ensuring that she was comfortable with his position beside her. Kiyoko noticed his position and appreciated it silently, letting him settle in.
"The courtyard is that way," Kiyoko pointed in the opposite direction.
"I'd rather look at you instead," he smirked.
Kiyoko blinked at the flirtatious comment. He was all talk and no action – just the way he stiffly sat in front of her was enough for her draw that conclusion. "Goodness, did the girls really fall for that?" Kiyoko shook her head in mock disappointment.
The Ootori frowned. Kiyoko made an effort to stifle a chuckle as she looked back out the window. He watched her ignore his comment completely and wondered what she thought about. She looked younger with her hair down. Her lips were soft and a dark matte red. Her eyes were painted with smoky golden hues, seen immediately when she peered down – likely intending to have matched with the gold bangle and hair ornaments. He wasn't used to her like this – at so much ease. It made him feel at ease too.
Her breathing slowed as she fell into a comfortable trance, looking at the fountains that had been shut off for the winter season. She looked so still, save for the way her red lips parted to say something. She was pretty, he had to admit. He didn't want to tell her. She would probably scoff at the comment too.
"I once saw someone fishing things out of that fountain. Their book bag and everything had been drenched. Their friend rolled up their sleeves and pants to help. It was quite sweet, actually," Kiyoko wondered why that memory had come up out of nowhere. Staring at the fountain pond seemed to have evoked the scene in her head. "I thought it was nice."
"Why?" he asked.
"The friendship," the woman admitted longingly. "I admired it." Kiyoko sighed and stopped thinking about the odd memory. "Anyway, I'm only here to rest my legs." She turned to him to dismiss him from having to wait on her. He must have been bored by now. Kiyoko didn't expect him to have come so close to her, causing her to lean back instinctively. The thump of her head hitting the wall behind her gave her away immediately. She fought back a wince by closing her eyes.
"Who's afraid now?" he grinned. Kyouya understood why she did the same to him too. How she got so close to him without batting an eye.
"There's nothing to be afraid of," she calmly responded. Kiyoko could play that game too, despite not being able to escape. She unwittingly trapped herself by inviting the man to sit with her. Why did she do that anyway? Somehow, she felt comfortable enough with the Ootori. That was silly of her. He should have stayed by the bookshelf and watched from afar.
"You aren't afraid of falling for me?" he teased.
"I think I've made it clear that you're more likely to fall for me," Kiyoko answered without missing a beat.
He hummed with a smirk. "How's your head?" Kyouya murmured. He reached for a loose strand of hair by her cheek and gently placed it behind her ear, letting the diamonds on her ears twinkle in the moonlight. He brushed her hair, softly patting the back of her head that had hit the wood behind her.
"It's fine," she mumbled. Kiyoko made the effort to move her head away. But the gentle stroke of his hand grew firm behind her. If she moved any further, he probably would have let go. She didn't. She dared him to make his move, calling his bluff.
Her eyes flickered from the soft stare to a growing curiosity. Taunting him. He wanted to play this game? Sure, she could too. Her eyes moved down to his lips and back to his eyes, making sure he caught the way her eyes darted. Maybe he'll grow enchanted by the gold on her eyes when she looked down. She spent so much time perfecting her eyes – the least he could do was admire them.
She didn't mean it, he thought to himself. His grip softened as he carded the strands of her hair through his fingers. It was as soft as it looked. Smooth as silk as it fell through his fingers so easily. He could keep his hands in her hair forever. The action was so soothing. He slowly leaned in further, keeping his fingers in her hair before settling at the back of her neck. He stopped himself, trying to exert patience by quietly asking for her to make the next move.
He smelled so crisp. And clean. What was it? Citrus? Bergamot? Mint? She let him lean in so she could inhale him silently. She didn't have a whiff of his cologne until she was close enough for it. Kiyoko was the opposite – she liked leaving a trail. As if declaring she was present without even having to speak a word. She breathed him in. The way his warm hands brushed through her hair to land on the base of her neck had her quietly tug his tie closer to her. He was now even closer than before, enough to feel his breath against her face. It's your move now. She didn't have to look at him to know he caught her smirk.
"Stop," he growled, the air that escaped out of him was so warm that it made her cheek tingle. Her eyes flickered to his own before quietly glancing at his lips. He knew that she knew exactly what she was doing. "Stop that." That. That glance. The way her eyes glimmered. The way her lips contorted to taunt him.
Her grin grew wider. "Only if you stop." That was quite an impossible ask.
The two were trying to figure out each other's intentions without having to speak. They both felt it. The way their heart beat so loud that it drummed in their ears. She was intoxicated by his scent without any alcohol involved. He too, drowned in the scent of her skin and her silky hair. Kiyoko felt her breath shallowing and let go of him first before leaning back against the wall again. Perhaps it was best to exercise restraint. His hands retreated from her neck, already missing the way the strands slid through his fingers.
"You felt it, didn't you?" she whispered. Her gut was rarely wrong. He was lost in her eyes in the same way she was lost in his. Even if it was a brief moment before he snapped out of it.
"Felt what?" Kyouya feigned ignorance, not expecting his voice to be so raspy as though he ran a marathon. He felt something but he didn't know what. Not when she did something like that to him.
Kiyoko looked out the window with a slight nod, letting go of his lie. It was not really up for discussion. She understood. It wasn't something that either of them wanted to talk about, something they shouldn't dare explore. But his voice gave him away. "Never mind," she brushed off. "We don't have time for games, anyway," Kiyoko murmured, snapping back to reality.
"Right," he agreed. She tapped his knee and gestured for him to get off so she could stand from the ledge. Her feet felt better now. It was probably enough for her to walk back to her car. He offered her a hand, as a gentleman should. She stared at it and then back at his face. He reverted back to that façade of what felt like fake goodwill.
"I'm good. Thanks," Kiyoko refused politely with a shake of the head and stood with grace. The fabric of her dress fell swiftly down her legs, no longer exposing the skin that had been shown while she sat comfortably at her favourite spot. Kiyoko quickly ran her fingers through her hair, twirling it to bring the soft curls back. She was fixing it after the Ootori had messed it up. He looked away, almost sighing that he wasn't the one doing it instead.
She silently walked along the banister with her hair swept to one side of her shoulders. Kiyoko held onto the railing, always careful of keeping herself poised. She felt him follow a few steps behind her, intentionally leaving some space between them. Space was good, it was safe. He watched her closely, noting the way her fingers had gripped the railing. She fell into fast-paced rhythm as soon as she reached the bottom of the staircase. It was fascinating how quick Kiyoko was able to walk with those shoes. They must have felt like an absolute bitch to walk in. It was going to be a journey from the library back to the coat check section of the banquet hall.
"Can't keep up, Ootori-san?" Kiyoko noticed him trailing behind her. Her voice was dark but her tone light. The halls were lit by only the moonlight as they scurried through the dark.
"I thought we agreed to drop formalities," he closed the gap between them, walking with her side by side. He quite preferred calling her Kiyoko, now that he had done so but only once.
"Perhaps it's for the better that we revert back to formalities," Kiyoko kept her voice curt. She built her fortress back up within minutes. "We can pretend that never happened," she suggested.
He mulled on the decision, letting the comfortable silence take over and the clack of her heels fill in for a lack of conversation. At the coat check, Kiyoko slipped into her long wool coat and left the Ootori silently, taking a shortcut that she always did as a student to get to the parking lot where she was picked up by their family chauffer. She scurried off so quickly that the Ootori nearly missed her. Thankfully he followed the trace of florals from the crowds to the exit that led outdoors.
Kiyoko looked over her shoulder when she heard steps behind her follow through the courtyard. Her glossy hair was caught in the slight breeze of the chilly air, flowing behind her when she turned. Kiyoko thought she had lost him, especially with the shortcut she took. "Ugh, fuck off!" she gritted out with a groan. She couldn't quite control the smile that crept up her lips so she turned her face quickly, in hopes that the Ootori didn't see it. What was wrong with her?
"What?" Normally he would be offended, but it was surprisingly entertaining to watch the woman annoyed. Maybe it was the kick she got when he was annoyed. "What happened to formalities?" he yelled from afar, his voice amused by giving her a taste of her own medicine.
"Fuck," she grumbled, trying to pick up the pace. The smile dropped from her face when she felt the sting of her skin near her feet. Unfortunately, her shoes had betrayed her with the Ootori quickly catching up with a slight jog. He heard her curse under her breath as soon as he met her pace.
"Off?" he offered with a smirk, repeating the same thing she had told him only a week prior.
"Yes, fuck off," she snapped with an eye roll. "I was trying to give you an out, you know," Kiyoko sighed, trying to forget about the banter they had over the night. While he was still unbearable, she needed to set her priorities straight.
"An out? Of what?" Kyouya chuckled.
"Of all of this!" Kiyoko threw her hands up in the air. Of all the upper-class ridiculousness with their businesses. Of marriage. Of her family. "Of me," she pointed to herself as a summary. "Go home. Get some sleep," she ordered, stopping in her tracks and letting him go ahead. Maybe he'd think better in the morning. She at least hoped so.
"Let me walk you to your car," he offered sincerely.
"Oh please," Kiyoko shook her head with her arms crossed. She wasn't buying it. "I can walk on my own just fine," she reassured. Kiyoko ignored throbbing of her feet. Something seemed to have stung on the edge of her ankle too. It was bearable if she focused on the cold and not the pain.
"Your ankle is bleeding," Kyouya pointed out. Kiyoko looked down and didn't even notice the bloodied edge of her ankle the entire time. She just assumed her feet were hurting because that was just how heels were designed: to be awfully uncomfortable despite looking like an exquisite accessory to her outfit. Kyouya only noticed when she had her legs sprawled along the window earlier. He figured that was why she had taken a break.
"Well, unless you have a band-aid, you won't be of much help," the woman sighed. Kyouya fished out his wallet from his jacket. His fingers managed to slide out two flat rectangles with two matching square alcohol wipes out of the card holder. Kiyoko stared in surprise, blinking at what the man had offered up in his palm.
"Oh," she whispered meekly when she realized what he was offering. Her squared shoulders slumped as her eyes softened at the gesture.
"I believe you owe me an apology," his voice smug when he watched her crumble in defeat. Kiyoko gingerly took what was in his palm and crouched down to her feet to wipe the wound before putting a band-aid on the raw skin. He watched as she bit her lip to fight back a wince. Maybe he should have helped. It was too late now when she finished and slowly stood back up, refusing to take his hand for help.
"Thank you," she muttered reluctantly when she faced him. Kiyoko held onto the crushed plastic wrap in her hand, walking slowly over to a garbage bin near the edge of the field that bordered the parking lot. He followed along with her.
"You know…" She tried to fight a smile against her lips but failed miserably when she stole a glance at him.
"What?" It was his turn to snap. He could see how she tried to hide her grin with the way she looked at him.
"Nothing," Kiyoko shook her head. She had to spare his ego for tonight. He went as far as to offer her band-aids. Kiyoko relented and tried her best to revert back to her professional self as they approached her car in the visitor section of the lot. Conveniently, it was near the Ootori's Mercedes that was right across from hers. As expected since they ran in the same social circles after all.
"Kiyoko," he growled. Her head turned and cocked to the side. Kiyoko pretended not to feel the hairs at the back of her neck respond to his low voice. Say it again, she almost whispered. Kiyoko had her back against the door of her car and eyed him curiously, keeping her cool instead.
"What?" She pretended not to know what he was trying to get at by raising her eyebrow.
"Out with it," the Ootori urged.
"You're not going to like it," Kiyoko grimaced. She wanted to kick herself for even thinking of making the comment. But it was so good.
"I'm sure I can take it," Kyouya rolled his eyes. "You've already told me to fuck off."
Kiyoko raised an eyebrow, biting her lip. He tried not to stare at the way her eyes tried to search his face for something to stop her from saying it. He narrowed his eyes even more, silently threatening her to spill what she held on her tongue.
"Most people carry condoms in their wallet," she blurted out.
The Ootori blinked. "What are you insinuating?" His brows began to furrow as the woman pursed her lips to fight back a small giggle that erupted. It means you don't get laid, you idiot. But all he heard was her quiet chuckle, who was embarrassed for him instead. Shit, he really would have preferred being told to fuck off over that comment.
She looked back down to the ground to try to hide her grin. He watched in awe as he noted how her eyelashes fluttered with the gold under this moonlight. Kiyoko pulled out a card from her pocket and looked up at him apologetically. He stared back at her before glancing at the card in her hand. Her maroon nails contrasted beautifully against the black cardstock. She slipped it into the breast pocket of his jacket with a smirk, still fighting back the laughter. Her body was so close to his, he could feel the way her weight shifted closer for a slight second. He welcomed it. Relished it. But Kiyoko retreated as quickly as she invaded his personal space. She didn't intend to put him on the guest list but was her best offer of an apology she could give.
"Thank you," she murmured when she had calmed down, leaning back on the door of her vehicle. The cool metal wasn't quite as comforting as his warm coat. Kiyoko resisted leaning on him like she had last week, trying to respect the boundaries. They were far too easy to break. "Truly, thank you for tonight. It was more fun than I thought it would be," Kiyoko admitted, pushing her hair behind her ear.
"The band-aids—" He tried to explain. He grabbed them by the first-aid kid at the coat check and that was how he nearly missed her when she walked out into the courtyard without him. Kyouya was thankful for the fact that he knew exactly what her perfume smelled like.
"I'm thankful," the woman cut him off, trying to save the last bit of his ego left for the night. She didn't have to know the story behind it. "Really," she added. "It's like I got the Host experience I never got while at Ouran." For free. Kiyoko didn't bother saying that out loud, knowing that the Ootori would say something about billing her later.
"Don't patronize me," Kyouya mumbled with his eyes rolling at her.
"You caught me," Kiyoko held her hands up in defeat. Nothing she could say would make him bounce back from the band-aids it seemed. She exhaled and tried to read him by meeting his eyes.
He avoided her expertly which was enough for Kiyoko to take a guess anyway. There was no winning against her.
"I'm sorry," she apologized properly. "You know, you really should have fucked off when I told you to," Kiyoko nudged him with her elbow, trying to get him to look back down at her. Like a little girl at the playground trying to get the attention of a boy. She gave him the perfect segue to leave.
He only huffed in response. But he didn't make any move to leave. He just didn't want to. Kyouya's legs refused to take him 20 feet across the lot to his own car. He wanted to stay. This was the most progress he had ever gotten with her. He didn't want to stop.
"I meant it," Kiyoko softened when he didn't budge. "The offer for an out. It's always there."
"You said it would be hard to divorce you," Kyouya reminded her. Was that just a lie? She said it with so much conviction, it stuck with him for days. No, weeks.
She nodded in confirmation. "Yes. My grandmother will make it difficult for you. She'll find a way."
"But what about you? Don't you care for marriage? Divorce, even?" he murmured. She must have been wary of the concept at the very least.
Kiyoko shook her head. "I've accepted my fate. Marriage. Divorce. Whatever," she whispered with the same sadness he spotted earlier in the night. "But it doesn't mean you have to," she urged, more hopeful than he had thought she would be. She smiled up at him with her eyes, trying to encourage him to do what was right for him.
"It doesn't have to be," the Ootori shook his head at her. "We can figure something out together. Workable terms for both of us. There has to be a solution. You just need to tell me what you want."
She parted her lips to speak and then decided against it. The Ootori wouldn't understand. "What I want isn't important," Kiyoko mumbled as she looked down to the ground again. He could stare at the pigment of her eyelids for hours – the way it shimmered in the moonlight was stunning. Her eyes brought the sun to him in the middle of the night.
"Kiyoko," he tried again. It wasn't a low growl this time. There was a softness to it. It tugged at her heart. She was weak. She had always been weak, just like her grandmother had said. Oh no. Don't look at him. Just don't. "Please."
Her heart skipped a beat. She shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes and resisting the way he pleaded. Kiyoko could tell that he was being sincere. She didn't want to dwell on why he would be. The fact that she even considered telling him what she wanted was far too much.
"It's not important," she repeated quietly. "It's not important," she said it again with a sigh as if to remind herself. "I'm not important," Kiyoko settled.
"You are," he urged. "If you're going to be my wife, you are important."
"But you won't be happy," Kiyoko pointed out. "Not with me."
He couldn't argue against that, at least. There was no way that he would know he could be happy with her. Kyouya wasn't the type to think too hard on these frivolous concepts anyway. That was more of a Tamaki thing.
"And I could be happy with someone else?" he argued with her logic.
"Maybe," Kiyoko shrugged. "Someone with a family that's more… normal," she tried. "Can't you at least try? There has to be some heiress with even bigger shares of whatever. Pharmaceuticals. Medical devices. Medical suppliers, even," she listed.
"We own hospitals, not pharmaceuticals, Kiyoko," the Ootori sighed. What would make this woman understand that she was it? There was nobody else. She was part of the plan. He didn't plan on changing it.
"Then pivot!" the woman groaned. "Pivot into pharma or whatever the hell is out there. Hospitals aren't the only thing out there in the industry." Everyone knew that much. "Just…" she was tired. "Just please try," she begged. "Anyone else but me."
"What's wrong with you?" he murmured. "That you don't think anyone would want you?"
"I got called a whore straight to my face tonight," Kiyoko shot back with the truth. "That's the kind of woman you would be marrying. A black cloud that follows me and my entire family around. You don't want that."
"That's not true," Kyouya crossed his arms, brushing off the word. Kiyoko was a lot of things. Terrifying – yes. Mysterious – absolutely. Intelligent – an undeniable fact. But a whore? Even if she were, she would be smart enough about who to sleep with. Quite frankly, it should have been with him. His lips curled in a smirk at that thought.
"Was that the same girl who carved the word psycho at your desk? Give me a name. I can easily find dirt on that woman for you," he offered naturally.
Kiyoko shook her head. "That's not the point, Kyouya. I just—" She was at a loss. That man was stubborn. And she was getting cold. She was tired. She was trying to do the right thing. Kiyoko wanted to go home at this point.
"You're not a whore," He knew that much. "A liar? Alright. A stubborn fucking bitch? Yes. A conniving businesswoman? Sure. A whore? No." He shook his head at that.
"A stubborn fucking bitch," Kiyoko repeated slowly, enunciating each word as she looked him in the eye. Damn. He really went there. "Hosting truly suits you," she sarcastically added, her tone bordering offense. Kyouya knew that she had been called worse than that. It wouldn't have offended her in the slightest.
"Well, you aren't denying it," Kyouya pointed out.
"I didn't deny being a whore, either," Kiyoko grumbled. "The condom comment didn't convince you?" she half-joked.
"The band-aids—" Kyouya groaned as he tried to explain again. Would the woman just let it go? Maybe it served him right for trying to be nice to her.
"I'm going home," she declared. Kiyoko shook her head, refusing to deal with this anymore. They were going around in circles. There was no point in this. Maybe he could sleep on it and in the morning, he'd come to his wits. She opened up the door of her vehicle only to have it shut by the Ootori forcibly.
"I picked them up at the coat check because there was a first-aid kit," he defended himself as quickly as he could. Kyouya then opened the door for her as a means of finally letting her go for the night. He refused to let her have the last word.
Kiyoko blinked in awe of the man who shut the door to stop her from leaving. "You really couldn't have just let it go?"
"You brought it up first," he argued back.
"I was making light of myself but your fragile ego took it as an attack on you," Kiyoko explained with her eyes rolling. She had let it go. "But thank you for going through such lengths," she settled. She appreciated the band-aid that had eased a bit of her discomfort. It was a kind gesture. She didn't want to read too much into it – not tonight. She didn't want to ruin the thought of a good memory, especially when she didn't have much of those to begin with.
"You're welcome," he gritted out reluctantly. "Now fuck off," he gave her the permission to finally go home.
"Gladly," Kiyoko responded without missing a beat. She settled into her car seat as the Ootori shut the door for her.
He really called her a stubborn fucking bitch. Didn't he?
Kiyoko, his low growl replayed in her ears. She uttered his name in annoyance as she drove past his car. That goddamn Ootori was truly something else.
In one quick flash of the card at the security guards, the businessman was let in with a small nod. He stepped through the door, not even bothering to look at the curated pieces of artwork that were lit beneath each spotlight. He wasn't the only person at this gallery showing. It had been weeks since he had seen her - work had kept him busy. But his brain had been keeping busy with the thought of her no matter what he tried to do.
Kiyoko stood near a crowd of people unfamiliar to him. He stayed nearby, pretending to stare at the photograph hung on the wall near the entrance of the gallery. He was bored and growing impatient at every minute, regretting the fact that he didn't arrive later as he casually walked around the room. Deciding to wait until there was an opening to speak to her was a painful task – he not used to how popular she was in her element. Truly, people flocked to her like bees to pollen. He wondered what they all spoke about.
"Ootori-san," a female voice greeted. Kyouya turned and flashed a polite smile, not recognizing the woman in front of him. Or rather, it wasn't the person he had wanted to see. He only responded with a nod of acknowledgement, as if waiting to hear what she had to say.
"Hibayashi-san said you would be here. I'm Mei," she introduced herself. "My family has a number of pharmaceutical plants overseas." The woman tried to jog the man's memory with a small fact.
"Hibayashi-san sent you?" Kyouya raised an eyebrow and glanced over to the crowd that had swallowed Kiyoko already.
"She said you'd be interested to meet me," Mei shyly answered. "And of course, I was also interested to meet you too." The woman turned embarrassed, unaware that the Ootori had not been primed for this.
"She's playing matchmaker now?" Kyouya scoffed. "What the fuck is she up to?" he muttered.
Mei stood awkwardly, looking down to the ground before trying to gracefully exit – it was clear that the Ootori was not interested, purely by the fact that the man didn't want to reciprocate any polite small talk with the stranger. He was standoffish and cold. Mei quickly decided she was better off not wasting her time, already embarrassed.
Kyouya rolled his eyes when he was out of eyesight from Mei, unimpressed by Kiyoko's attempt at matchmaking. She should know better by now. No more than a few minutes later, there was a tap on his shoulder. A part of him thought it was Kiyoko but it was in fact, just another stranger in his way.
"Can I help you?" he snapped at the woman.
"Oh," the woman blinked, a little taken back. "She was right about you being mean."
Kyouya scanned the room to find the gallerist. Now she's spewing rumours about him? Even from afar, she was somehow able to rile him to his core.
"Hibayashi-san said that you'd be interested in me," the second stranger gave a polite smile.
"Who are you?" Kyouya icily shot back.
"I'm Yui," she chuckled, brushing off the cold demeanour of the man. "My family is one of the largest manufacturers for medical supplies in Asia but I own a tech start-up. I'm here because my friend's artwork is being exhibited."
The Ootori had a blank expression on his face, obviously uninterested in all of this information. His face said it all: he couldn't have cared less.
Yui nodded to herself and shrugged. "She warned me about that too."
"About what?" he narrowed his eyes.
"That you'd be pretty bad at speaking to women."
Kyouya sighed inwardly. His patience was running thin with these two encounters. "I apologize," he reluctantly gritted out.
"No need," Yui brushed off. "I wanted to see what the Ootori was all about." She raised an eyebrow at the man.
"Sorry to disappoint," Kyouya rolled his eyes, not caring for any of it.
"I didn't say I was disappointed," Yui eyed him from head to toe. He was easy on the eyes, as per the rumours. He was also seemingly bitter and perpetually annoyed. Perhaps that was his default. Somehow, it made him more alluring.
Kyouya watched as the woman ogled him. He crossed his arms as he let her draw her own conclusions about him. Maybe if he shot back a cold stare, she would back off and leave him alone.
"I wonder why she said you wanted to speak with me. You clearly have nothing to say," the woman pointed out.
"I really don't," Kyouya confirmed without missing a beat.
"Hm," Yui shrugged. "Well, that's a shame. We really could have made something work," she smirked.
Kyouya did not bother dwelling on what she was insinuating and looked away, still trying to find the woman who had sent these shenanigans his way. The crowd in the corner had since dissipated but left no trace of Kiyoko herself. Where the hell did she go?
Yui turned in the same direction that he was looking at, realizing that he had been looking for the gallerist the whole time. "Hibayashi-san is a busy woman. I don't think you will be able to catch her tonight," she explained. "But we can make better use of the night," Yui offered with a small smirk that danced on her lips.
"I'm going to find her," Kyouya excused himself and ignored the woman's sly advance.
"Suit yourself," Yui shrugged when he turned. "It's always the crazies, hm? Why are men always attracted to crazy women?" she muttered with a remark towards the Hibayashi clan's tainted reputation.
The Ootori glared back at the stranger, offended on Kiyoko's behalf. "Maybe I'm the crazy one," his voice low with his eyes narrowed, intending to threaten the stranger. He left abruptly, weaving through the crowds and no longer decided to wait.
Her hair was in a high bun, a long blazer slung over her shoulders. She was in the middle of speaking with someone who he didn't recognize. He didn't recognize any of these people, really. Someone pulled on his arm and kept him from interrupting.
"Ootori-san," the woman scolded with a whisper. Kyouya turned around and snapped.
"Let go of me," he demanded with a growl. The woman obliged with widened eyes, fearful of the Ootori. Finally, it was someone that he recognized. Nami bowed apologetically, obviously terrified. Well, at least someone knew their place.
"She's speaking to someone important," Nami explained. "It is best we don't interrupt."
"Who?"
"One of the sponsors of the entire gallery – his daughter is one of the exhibitors," Nami patiently responded. "It's been a busy night. Can I help you with anything?" she offered.
"When is she done?" Kyouya glanced over at Kiyoko, ignoring Nami's offer. The gallerist must have felt his stare because she made eye contact with Kyouya for a brief second before returning back to the conversation with the elder man. She nodded towards the stranger as though she were invested in the conversation the entire time. Kyouya turned back to her assistant.
Nami shrugged. "Not sure. Sometimes she stays for a while, other times she'll jet off within an hour. The showing will end in an hour."
"How do I get her alone?" he asked.
The assistant shook her head. "You don't," she told him. "She decides."
Of course she decides. Kiyoko ran the whole show. Kyouya was in her territory. He huffed. People came and went in waves, although there seemed to be no inkling of any of these people retreating to go home any time soon. Kiyoko's attention was always held by everyone except for him.
The girl watched the Ootori try to formulate a plan. "You know, you could just put in a bid for some of these pieces," the assistant suggested. "Have you—"
"—No," Kyouya refused. No way was he getting swindled again. He had spent enough money on her.
Nami sighed. "Suit yourself." She left him to his own devices after being approached by someone else. Of course, she was here to do her job. Kyouya was just around to… well, what was he here for anyway?
He wondered that himself. He expected a greeting from her. At least a polite hello. But all he got was one flicker of her eyes and then she was gone again, suddenly hidden by the crowd. What was he here for? Well, evidently, Kiyoko thought he would be here to find someone else. How much longer could he stare at photos of things he didn't care about?
He stood blankly and stared at the pieces. The people flocked from differing parts of the elite: from real-estate tycoons to musicians. It really was an odd group. Kyouya stared at multiple frames and eyed the starting bid prices while trying to slowly follow Kiyoko's path around the entire gallery.
A security guard discreetly whispered something into Kiyoko's ear, pulling her away from the crowds immediately. She had an unreadable expression – teetering between anger and fear. The businesswoman was quick to slip into the shadows without sparing another second, grabbing her jacket that had been tucked away on a coat rack far away from the crowds. She scurried through the exit with the man who had whisked her away.
Kyouya lost the sight of them when he turned the corner. She was nowhere to be seen. Kyouya took a deep breath. Peonies. Gardenia. Sweet peaches. She was here. She was somewhere. Where could she have gone and why was she being led by a security guard of all people? Why did she leave so abruptly? Something didn't seem right. The cold wind howled against his ears, immediately dissipating the fragrance of her signature scent.
He took a guess and circled around the building to an alleyway. Nothing. He quickly jogged down to the other direction towards the alley near the parking garage. Maybe he was already too late. Maybe he was imagining it. He was close to the parking garage anyway – he might as well have driven home by now.
"You're in my way," the voice was low and even. Not even a hint of fear could be detected when he turned the corner to find the glint of a blade against her neck. She glared at the man who was easily twice her size, eclipsing her to stand in his shadow. She silently ordered him to move as if the knife was a toy to her.
"Ah, my apologies," the man held the blade a few inches back to let her lower down to the ground towards a box, delicately wrapped with a bow.
She moved slow and steady, as graceful as ever. Shit, this woman really showed no fear in the eyes of danger. The knife was tracking every movement, waiting as her gloved fingers opened the leather bag. It took him a moment to recognize that it was really her. She was in that wool coat he recognized. The high bun. Lips painted a dark mauve. Eyes surrounded by a line as sharp as the dagger she was being threatened with in front of her face.
"Hey!" he shouted before his legs began charging down the alleyway.
What the fuck was he getting himself into?