Chapter 14
He felt stupid. He stared at the string of text messages she left, now almost a week old. Threats of changing her number. He read the words over and over again in that deep growl of hers. Would it have been better to call or text?
Like a teenager who had been strung along by an illogical infatuation for another person, he wanted to throw his phone against the wall unable to make the move to say something – anything in any way. The vibration of his phone against his desk nearly made him jump, his fingers barely able to hit the button to answer the call.
"What?" he snarled as a half-ass greeting.
"What do you mean what?" his friend shot back. "You said to call you. What do you need?"
"Legal advice for a friend," Kyouya grumbled.
"Uh, why are you calling then?" Haruhi shot back. "Who's your friend?"
He wondered if it was a good idea to tell the lawyer. We're not friends, Kiyoko. He'd be a hypocrite to call her a friend now, in front of one of his oldest friends – the sanest one of them all.
Yeah? What are we then, Ootori-san? Her voice taunted him.
"Oi, Kyouya – who's your friend?" the lawyer snapped him back to reality. "Just tell them to give me a call, yeah?" Haruhi was too tired for this, not after a long day at the office. She only called back out of courtesy. Granted, she was a few days late. But what could the Ootori possibly need from her, anyway?
"Thanks," he numbly answered.
"You alright?" his friend's voice softened. "You sound awful."
"Good night," Kyouya rolled his eyes and hung up. He looked around his office. Fuck, what was he doing here nearly at 8 PM? Papers strewn over his desk, his monitor with open spreadsheets, none that were completed and emails left unanswered. He shut his laptop with a loud smack in frustration hurriedly packed his things.
By the time he managed to step foot in the elevator, he took the plunge and hit the call button. The odds of her picking up were low. There was no way of knowing if she had already changed her number, refusing to heed to his request. It rang a number of times, so much so that he nearly hung up.
"Hello?" her voice echoed in the elevator. He cleared his throat, struggling to find the words. It took him a moment to find his voice.
Kiyoko was on a video conference call when her phone buzzed against her desk. Tokyo being ahead meant that Helsinki was just barely after noon. It had been a busy week being cooped up in meetings, trying to acquire differing pieces of art to fit the next exhibition, handling shipment logistics and of course, analyzing the costs of the entire thing.
"Hello?" Kiyoko answered, unsure of what to be expecting from the Ootori at this hour. He didn't have any reason to call, did he? Silence filled the first few seconds of the call. Maybe it was an accident? She heard him clear his throat. Or maybe not? She couldn't tell.
"I spoke with my friend," he started off.
"I thought I was your friend," Kiyoko shot back with a small smile. She looked down at her desk – what a mess. Papers from the morning had been strewn across the glass. Her notes were still half-finished with ink smudged across some pages. I should probably clean up, Kiyoko realized.
"The lawyer," Kyouya continued.
"Ah," Kiyoko had been busy over the past few days that she repressed the thought of what had happened only a little over a week ago. Her mind could not afford to dwindle on it for long, not when there was money to be made and an awfully particular piece to be found. "Indeed, that is a good friend to keep around," she told him, reflecting upon her own odd friendship with Eugene.
"I can give you their number," he offered.
"Great, thanks," she was half-paying attention. Her eyes were caught up in an email that just arrived into her inbox. "Text me."
"Where are you?" he shifted the topic. Kiyoko multitasked in between responding to the email and answering his question.
"Just settling some things at the office."
"You have an office?" Kyouya asked dumbly.
"It moves with the gallery," she patiently explained. Kiyoko skimmed through the email again during a lull in their call.
"Anything else?" The question was mostly to herself as she tried to think of what else needed to be put on the agenda as she set up another meeting. She sent the request and settled back in her seat. The Ootori took it differently, asking a question that took her off-guard.
"How are you?"
She blinked for a second, trying to analyze why his voice sounded so desperate. It was a question she never really got and never needed to answer. Kiyoko was never one for pleasantries either. People didn't care enough to ask, and when they did – it was never more than just a means of breaking the ice. Kiyoko stood from her chair, stretching her legs after the past few hours.
"Forgive me," she murmured. "I don't get that question a lot."
"Is that why you aren't answering it?" Kiyoko could hear the smirk in his voice. Fine, she could hit him back with the same kind of annoying response.
"I believe the normal answer to that question is fine, thank you. How are you?" she shot back.
"I'm tired." He really did sound like he had quite the day.
"You're still at the office too, huh?" Kiyoko realized. They really were the same it seemed. She sympathized with the fatigue and the yearning to get some real rest. "Go home. Drive safe, yeah? Good night," she whispered. She didn't want to keep him – it was the considerate thing to do after all.
Sometimes her job was curating pieces for specific clients, other days she spent scavenging for certain pieces. It was a stupid job, really. She could have hired more people to do these things for her. Something about keeping busy made her feel less numb to the anxieties that crept at the back of her mind. And besides, if Kiyoko wanted something to be done right, she always had to do it herself. In the midst of that call, she set up a follow-up meeting with the Finnish artist she had been looking to represent.
The time difference kept her at the office for longer than needed – a necessary sacrifice, of course. She let her hair down after a long day, still staring at the spreadsheets she laid out on the tentative scheduling of the next exhibit. All in all, it was a good day. Plenty of productivity.
How are you? His voice replayed at the back of her mind. It was so earnest. Almost desperate to know if she was alright. She sighed. It was probably a good time to call it a night. Head home and get some much needed rest.
She perched the glasses over her head, pushing away the strands of hair behind her ear as she packed up her laptop into her Saint Laurent purse. Her Burberry jacket was draped quickly over her shoulders as she stepped out of the dark gallery, making sure the security system was engaged with a flick of a button on her phone. She had not bothered to tie her jacket – her car had been parked close by in a reserved spot securely beneath the ground.
To her surprise, there he was. Kyouya stood coolly, waiting for her patiently against the passenger door of his car that she mistook as her own. Fuck him for having the same taste, she grumbled to herself. His hands were in his jacket pockets, his stance comfortable – he must not have been waiting for that long if that were the case.
"You stalk during your free time?" she greeted him sharply without any pleasantries when she recognized the figure outside of the building of her gallery. There was no bite to her voice, not from what he could hear anyway.
"File a restraining order then," Kyouya shot back with his arms crossed.
"How ironic would it be if I called your friend to file a restraining order against you?" she considered the option seriously for a couple of seconds. It would be the ultimate fuck you.
"She would be rather amused," Kyouya answered coolly.
"She probably would," Kiyoko masked her surprise with a neutral tone. He called them a she. How interesting.
"Jealous?" he smirked, taking note of the way she glazed over the pronoun.
Kiyoko shook her head flippantly. "I pity her. She was quite annoyed with you."
"How so?" He asked. Did Kiyoko already call Haruhi? He wondered. It only took him forty minutes to get across the city. She was quick.
"You asked her to call and gave her zero context," Kiyoko deduced – anyone would be annoyed at that. How was the man supposed to explain what happened?
"It isn't like I knew how to explain what kind of advice you needed from her," the man defended himself. "You wouldn't tell me shit."
"There's nothing to tell," she brushed off. Kiyoko did her best to hide a shiver by hugging her jacket a little closer to her body, crossing the fabric against her chest while her bag perched on her forearm. Her hands were bare against the wind. He picked up on the way she huddled to herself and felt a pang of guilt for leaving her standing.
"Let me drive you home," Kyouya offered.
"I have my own car," she refused. "And besides, what are you doing here?" Kiyoko rolled her eyes.
"You never answered the question," he smirked. "How are you?"
"I said I was fine," Kiyoko shot back with a grumble. "Go home," she ordered. "You've had a long day too."
"Are you fine though?" He asked again, this time more urgently. His voice filled with worry. Fear, maybe. She faltered a little inside, her usual squared shoulders slouching beneath her designer coat. He moved closer to her, trying to shield her from the wind. It felt natural to reach for her, coaxing her to tell the truth instead of dancing around the question.
"Yes," she murmured softly. "I'm fine. Really," she added. "There's nothing to worry about." Her eyes looked up at him as a means of reassurance. He tried searching for the lie, doing his best to read her expression. Kiyoko narrowed her eyes at him, daring him to try to guess what she was thinking. His lips veered upwards when he noticed the glasses that perched on top of her head.
"Are you squinting because you can't see without your glasses?"
"What?" Kiyoko reached up to the top of her head. She must have forgotten to put them back in the case. The Chanel frames had kept the hair out of her face. She reached up to pull them off before he held onto her wrist. It was a gentle grip, a silent plea to relax. Stop being so defensive. There was no need for it, he wanted to say. She relented, listening to him without him having to say a word. Kiyoko was suddenly aware of how close he was to her. She had to admit, it was nice having him as a shelter against the wind. She made no move to push him farther.
"Why are you here?" she asked again.
"I was worried for you," Kyouya admitted. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."
"Well," she shifted uncomfortably, pulling her hand away from him. He let go gingerly but still refused to let up on the distance between them. "I told you I was fine. I don't need you to check up on me."
"If I don't, who will?"
Kyouya knew he had a point when she blinked up at him, settling into the realization that he was correct. He gave her a sly grin, provoking her to respond.
"Nami, probably," she responded after a few seconds. He knew better than to expect her to ever go down without a fight.
"Oh? Is she aware that you could have died a few weeks ago?" Kyouya raised an eyebrow.
"She's on a need-to-know basis," Kiyoko shot back. "Besides, she's better in the customer-facing role than I am," she muttered. "Anyway, I'm done for the day. May I go home now, Ootori-san?"
"Only if you let me drive you," he bartered.
"Mmhm," Kiyoko crossed her arms. "And then what? I invite you into my home? Spend the night?" she teased. "Nice try."
He frowned. "I didn't mean it that way."
"I know," she snickered as she pulled off the glasses on her head to put them on. She might as well have worn them, maybe she could see his face contort into an annoyed expression in HD. Kiyoko glared at him through the lenses, the subtle cat-eye shape framed her angled face while he only stared back at her in awe.
"What? I'm suddenly ugly because I have glasses on?" Kiyoko huffed, noting the way he stayed silent.
"No, they suit you," he quietly mumbled with a shake of his head. Kyouya didn't expect to like that look on her as much as he did. The icy glare she shot at him was further accentuated by the dark frames, it only made him smile.
"What are you grinning about then?"
"Your glasses – they make you…"
"What? They make me look like an old lady?" She snapped. Her spreadsheet numbers were small. Sometimes it helped to have just a little bit of clarity with a blue-light filter to shield her eyes after staring at her monitors all day. "Whatever, four-eyes," Kiyoko shot back.
"That's very immature of you," he pointed out as he perched up his glasses in rebellion against her. "You look nice," Kyouya took the higher road by complimenting her. She was unimpressed, as usual. Kiyoko shifted her stance towards the direction of where her car was parked, readying to leave him behind.
"Stop running," he called her out, hurriedly so he could keep her attention just a little longer. She turned to look at him, letting it sink in.
"Why do you keep trying to find me?" she questioned.
"Because I want to see you," the Ootori responded coolly.
She eyed him cautiously. "And?"
"Understand you," he continued. He meant it and she knew it too. Why was he so persistent?
Kiyoko resisted the feeling of her heart skipping a beat at the last statement. She pouted, the dark red of her lips glistened under the moonlight. She was doing her best to pretend that she wasn't taking his reasoning to heart. "You mean you don't want to sleep with me?" her tone mocked him.
"I do," he admitted casually, letting the mockery roll off his back. "Don't you?" Kiyoko had to admit that his grin was contagious. She looked away to smile to herself. He was getting better at it. Owning his desires. Becoming more confident in what he wanted. He made it very clear that he wanted her. And maybe, a little part of her wanted him back.
Quite honestly, maybe a large part of her wanted him back. Kiyoko shoved that thought back down as soon as it had crossed her mind. She could not deny the attraction they had between each other. Kiyoko had him under her thumb earlier than he realized it. Unfortunately for her, Kyouya was a fast learner. He adapted. Kiyoko wondered what would leave him speechless, her brain flipped through what other cards she had to play.
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint. You came all this way for nothing," she pursed her lips.
"I wanted to know if you were alright," he repeated. "Anything else would be… a bonus," he flashed his signature smirk at her, pulling her closer by the waist. He's smooth, isn't he? She thought to herself. He knew exactly what moves to pull. He was playing a better game than she was tonight.
"A bonus," Kiyoko echoed with a small chuckle. She looked up towards him, leaning her body a little more against his. She waited a couple of seconds, watching him and letting the warmth of their breaths dance between them. Would he be brave enough to lean in too?
It seemed so. Kiyoko moved her face just in time, pressing a kiss to his jaw before he could dive for her lips.
"I'm fine," she whispered against his ear. "Alive," Kiyoko reminded. "I think your job here is done, Ootori-san."
"Kyouya," he corrected, clearly annoyed by the fact that she had swerved. The Ootori wondered if she called him formally only to mock him, fully knowing they were past that point. He allowed her to bury her nose in the crook of his neck, between the cold tip of her nose and the warmth of her breath – he didn't know what this feeling was. He was absolutely intoxicated by her touch.
"Kyouya," Kiyoko repeated huskily. She paused for a moment, wondering what this man was thinking about. It had been a long day for him. He really should have gotten going to rest for the night.
"Are you hungry?" she asked, pulling away with a small smile and snapping him out of a daze. Kiyoko changed tactics. His mind had been elsewhere, trying not to freeze at the way she spoke of his name on her lips. He studied her face. From the way she blinked up at him with those thinly lined eyes, lashes that fluttered up at him innocently. Her pointed nose drew away from the lips that had been painted with her signature bold red. She flashed a smile up at him as though it were an invitation.
"I could eat," he softly answered, assuming that the woman had proposed to go out for a meal.
"Then go eat," Kiyoko hurried him along, untangling herself from him just as quickly he had pulled her into him.
"What?" The narrowing of his eyes were immediately followed by the crossing of his arms when his hands were pulled from her waist. She slithered out of his grip so quickly he could hardly grasp her back in his arms without looking stupidly desperate.
"Go eat," she repeated. "I'm going home," Kioyko informed him nonchalantly. Her body shivered now that he was further away from her but she made no move to return back to the comfortable position between his arms.
"What the fuck?" he muttered. "I thought—"
"—You thought what?" she sweetly shot back with a playful grin. "That I would have the energy to entertain you? I think you got your bonus."
"No, I didn't," he argued.
"Oh?" Kiyoko raised an eyebrow at him. "What were you expecting, Ootori-san?" She tilted her head with a raised brow. Out with it, she spoke with her eyes.
"There's an event," he explained. It was a charity event, of course. Rich people loved giving away their money for a good cause, or so they say. "It would be good for us to be seen. Together," he added for clarity.
"An event? What for?" she pried suspiciously.
"You should have gotten an invite, I am sure," Kyouya explained.
"I ignore emails from my grandmother," the woman rolled her eyes. "In the same way you probably ignore anything that is a waste of your time."
"This isn't a waste of time," the Ootori insisted. "Please."
"I'll think about it," Kiyoko was not one to promise anything. Nothing of that sort should have come easy. The Ootori especially, should learn how to handle the word no. But as usual, he tugged her heart strings with those stupid eyes of his. "Send me the guest list, yeah?"
It was his turn to raise the brow, his eyes furrowed in between deciding whether he should have grown suspicious of the ask or if he should have been impressed. He decided on the latter, relaxing at the request and gave a curt nod.
"It's not worth attending if there is no money to be made," the businesswoman smiled with glint in her eye. "Text me." She patted him on the arm and disappeared into the night without bothering to look back.
It was like a frustrating game of hide and seek. She never said yes. She never said no, either. But it was enough for him to assume that there was a good chance she would show. He could have sworn he saw her quietly slip through the doors. It was hard not to notice her with her emerald gown and her signature dark red lips. He was the only person looking for her.
Kyouya caught a glimpse of her and then within a minute she was gone. And again, she appeared literally across the room with that sinister smile of hers – not directed at him, thankfully. Like a hallucination, Kiyoko disappeared in and out of his vision over the course of the hour. He could not have been drunk, no. Not with just a glass of wine, mostly to keep his one hand busy. The other hand was reserved for firm handshakes.
He shifted further into the shadows, already tired of the pleasantries he had shared over the course of the night. These were the generation of their parents, touting their wealth at auctions for some kind of commonplace disease – the kind of exclusive event that people could flaunt just the invitation for. It was a moment to breathe, a moment to stay still and just listen.
"You have something I am interested in." He could recognize that voice anywhere – that deep and dark drawl was enough to pique and keep anyone's interest. She was above, on the balcony as she leaned against the railing with no drink in hand – only crossed arms as she strode across the top with light steps towards the man. Kyouya stood where he was, realizing that he was hidden well below with the darkness. There was nobody around them.
"What can someone like you possibly have to offer?" He was no older than they must have been. Kyouya did not recognize the man – he was clearly of no importance to him. But to her, he was an opportunity in the way her eyes tracked him like a predator would.
"Information at a price." She was smiling. That winning smile sat atop her lips, careful and calculated. Not too much to scare the stranger off, not too friendly to remind them that she meant business.
"I don't nee—"
"—Oh, but you do," she cut off with a tilt in her head, chiding them for being dismissive. "You're missing a lot of money, no?"
There was a pause. A moment of contemplation. The trap was set.
"Who are you?" the stranger brushed off in a hushed whisper. "I do not have time for these games."
"I don't play games," she told them, easily evading the question about who she was. She was practically anonymous here. She shifted focus back to the matter at hand. "You're running out of time, are you not?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"A shame," the woman sighed theatrically. "And to think we could talk business." She turned on her heel, readying herself to leave.
"What is it?" they growled before she was out of earshot.
"I believe the better question is: what do you want?" Kiyoko lectured.
"Fine, what do you want?" the stranger spat.
"You have a Monet," she said simply. It was clear as day. A Monet in exchange for money that he very much needed.
"What?"
"An authentic Monet painting," she clarified, as if that obvious statement could jog his memory.
"It was a gift – a family heirloom," they corrected as they stood their ground. "It is not for sale."
There was a pause. Kiyoko went along with it anyway, unimpressed by their excuse. "Well, if it were such a gift then… I would ask that you gift it to yours truly." It was a simple ask, really.
"That is millions of doll—"
"—Less than what you would stand to lose if you lose the company," she pointed out.
"And what would you possibly do with a painting?"
"Well, I would have to verify its authenticity first," Kiyoko shrugged. "But that should not be of any concern to you. I believe I know of more pressing matters."
"Prove it," they tested.
Kiyoko chuckled. "How did you end up losing $50 million under your nose? It is only a matter of time before the board hears about this. We both know you could easily be replaced by your cousin." She shook her head at how incredulous this was. He was just another foolish man who naively believed he had invested in the right thing. Kiyoko's network was vast as she played the unwitting fool in the background. Information was just as valuable if not more valuable than money itself.
"How did you know about this?" The man called her bluff.
The gallerist shrugged. "I have a knack of following the money. But I would very much need the Monet before we discuss any further."
"I don't trust you."
"How wise of you," she jeered. "I wish you the best in finding those assets." She nodded to him in acknowledgement, walking away without a second thought. Kiyoko knew the man was too desperate to let her go.
"Wait," he strained is voice, gulping air down to make any kind of excuse. "I need time."
"We don't have time," Kiyoko reminded. "I need the Monet. You need the money. I can arrange both of those."
"How can I trust you?"
The woman shrugged. "You shouldn't." Who was this stranger? Of course, anyone with common sense would tell you not to trust a stranger. But she spoke with such certainty – she convinced him by the way she looked at him.
"You also don't have a choice," Kiyoko reminded, cornering the man emotionally. Her eyes bore through his skull, threatening him with the information she already knew far too much of. The woman gave him the only way out he could possibly see. "And this is quite the business opportunity for you and I." Kiyoko refused to break eye contact, letting him squirm in discomfort under her gaze.
"The Monet needs to be at my office by noon on Monday." She put the slip of her business card on the flat railing of the balcony, delicately balancing it on the wood to watch the way his eyes yearned to snatch the card. He hesitated to go any closer to her – something about the woman seemed too dangerous to approach.
"That is two days from now," he stuttered.
"Plenty of time then," Kiyoko bowed her head at the slightest to politely bid her farewell again, this time she walked right past the man with a quiet smile on her lips. Kyouya watched as she floated across the balcony and down the staircase with grace.
The Ootori was quick to intercept her at the bottom of the stairs. He was silent but his smirk was ever knowing. Kiyoko only raised an eyebrow at him, greeting him in her own silent way. She turned over to a server for two glasses of wine and held the two glasses by the stem as if inviting him over to share a drink. The Ootori set his near-empty one down and strode his way over to her to close the ten feet of distance.
As soon as he came face to face with her, she smiled up at him and poured one glass into the other. Her almond nails matched the dark liquid, topping up to nearly the full volume of the vessel before she handed the Ootori the emptied glass and walked away again. Kyouya narrowed his eyes at her in annoyance, egging her grin to stretch across her face with amusement. By the time he had found himself another glass of wine, she had disappeared.
He cursed under his breath. She was full of these tricks, wasn't she? His eyes scanned across the room for that emerald dress. Kiyoko was nowhere to be seen. Fuck. She must have been in the hallway somewhere, or who knows – maybe she already left. This wasn't the plan. No, not at all. He wanted to be seen with her, seen by the rest of the rich and elite. It was a statement to be made.
Kyouya rushed out of the doors, frantically looking left and right for any trace of her. Where would she go? She liked disappearing into the quiet and secluded corners, appearing in and out of people's views like a spirit. His legs took him down a flight of stairs into an area with a series of rooms that were unused. Servers bustled about with their trays of food and wine. They minded their own business, too busy catering to the actual event to care about the man who was very much out of his element.
"Yes, we can certainly move that meeting up," her voice echoed. It was an empty banquet hall with the door perched only slightly open with a folded napkin. It must have been wedged to keep it from locking. Kyouya could have sworn he could smell her perfume the closer he got.
"I'll keep the logistics in mind. We can align ourselves on how to execute this in the next coming months. Send updates when you can."
The businesswoman ended the call and raised an eyebrow at the doorway that creaked open. The room was empty with the exception of a couple tables lined near the windows. She made herself comfortable beneath the moonlight, sitting with her legs crossed and her back straight against the chair, arms resting on each side. Her barren shoulders were accentuated underneath the moonlight with her emerald cape settling at her elbows. She gave him a cold blank stare. It was uninviting, to say the least.
Kyouya stepped into the dark room anyway, unafraid. He had been wanting to get a closer look at her. The emerald fabric of her dress glistened beneath the cold hues of the moon. The light that filtered into the windows illuminated her figure perched on the chair – it was throne-like in the way she sat upon it. Kiyoko sat like a queen while her eyes followed him across the room. All she could see was a shadow and of course, the glint of his glasses that immediately gave him away. Her red nails tapped impatiently against the phone that she had rested on the arms of the mahogany chair.
"Power looks good on you," the Ootori greeted her in a low voice. The words echoed into the empty room. He never made the move to reveal himself into the light, much preferring to have the woman shine beneath it. Kyouya would never be able to compare to the beauty Kiyoko had. All he could do instead was stare. He hoped that the shadows would cloak his awe and fascination with her.
"Of course it does." Kiyoko did her best at keeping an even tone. Kiyoko had to admit, it wasn't what she was expecting out of the Ootori's mouth. She was expecting something along the lines of stunning. Or gorgeous. Maybe even beautiful, if he really was unoriginal. But power?
She could get drunk off of that.
Kiyoko decided quickly that she was not about to dawdle over such a thing, not in front of him like this.
He stared at her intently from head to toe. The gown started with a thin strap at her shoulder, moving into a deep v-cut where her pale skin was revealed from her collarbones to the middle of her torso. Her long sleek hair had given her some modesty. The fabric hugged her waist and hips and then her legs all the way down to the floor. Her legs were crossed comfortably with a matching set of emerald court shoes.
"What do you want, Ootori-san?" Kiyoko snapped him out of his ogling trance.
"You," he told her like it was an obvious fact. Kiyoko couldn't see him very well but she could easily imagine the smirk that danced on his lips.
"You wouldn't be the only one," she reminded. There was no doubt that Kiyoko knew the power of her conventionally attractive beauty and she helmed it with ease. Apparently the Ootori was no exception to being swayed by the way she looked.
Kiyoko reached over to her wine glass with twice the amount of wine she had poured plus a little more to top up before coming into the private area. A spread of appetizers had been placed beside her on a silver platter from grapes and cheese to small pastries – another thing she had quietly whisked away with the hopes of keeping some sustenance in her to survive the night.
"I thought you liked me," Kyouya rolled his eyes. "Why the scowl?"
The night was over to her as she had done what she needed to do. This was her treat to herself without any intent of sharing. But alas, the Ootori always had a knack of ruining her plans. Kiyoko let out a huff, obviously annoyed by the fact that the man had just been standing there like an idiot. How was she going to eat this with him just staring at her? He even had the audacity to remind her that they had some kind of rapport.
"Have you eaten?" Kiyoko asked.
"No," he answered truthfully. Kyouya immediately wondered if the simple word he had uttered made him seem desperate. She turned away from him and reached over to the table beside her.
Kiyoko popped a grape into her mouth, careful not to ruin the lipstick and took a sip of the wine. "Sucks to suck," she responded, still too stubborn to extend the invitation. Kyouya watched her toss the small salmon tartare with a dollop of caviar into her mouth. The same feeling of annoyance bubbled in his chest, just like how she pretended to offer him wine earlier in the night.
"How very mature of you," the Ootori deadpanned. He revealed himself from the shadows and took a seat across from her by the table. He helped himself to the tray as she narrowed her eyes at him with disapproval. He broke a breadstick and chewed in front of her. The grinding echoed with each bite.
"I didn't say you could sit," Kiyoko growled.
"I never needed your permission," the man retorted. How silly of her to think she owned the place.
"I also never said this was to be shared," she snapped, suddenly possessive of the food she had earned.
"Well, it's time we all learn to share, no?" He helped himself to the salmon. She slapped his hand away, her reflexes faster than him.
"Oi," Kiyoko's frown grew deeper. "Those are my favourite. Eat the low-yield breadsticks, peasant."
"Peasant?" he raised his voice while repeating the phrase incredulously. The Ootori's mouth stood agape at the fact that she would even utter the word at him. The glare he gave her was enough to scare any regular person from ever retaliating against him.
"Ootori-san," she corrected herself sweetly, batting her eyes. Kiyoko took advantage of the man's shock by stuffing her face with the last of the salmon tartare, stealing the wine away to wash it down quickly.
"Barbarian," he snarled. And to think she looked like a ruler of an empire just minutes prior. This woman was truly full of surprises.
"Mm," she agreed without much care. Her complacency would only annoy the Ootori even further, as expected. Kiyoko couldn't have cared less at what he called her. She had been called a plethora of things. Barbarian could be added to the list and she did not even bat an eye. "I told you it wasn't meant to be shared." She threw him a breadstick.
The Ootori barely caught it as the crumbs fell over his suit. She could be so fucking annoying. Kiyoko couldn't help but to keep smiling when she took a long look at his contorted face. She wondered how many other people were allowed to annoy him in the same way she did.
"Alright fine," Kiyoko rolled her eyes, relenting when the Ootori's scowl became more brooding and the fun was taken out of it all. "I'll play nice," she promised, her palms faced upward in offering the tray to him. "But the wine is mine," she warned.
"Says who?" he wrapped his hand around her wrist that held onto the wine glass. Kiyoko stared at the way he held onto her with such firmness, his eyes locking with hers – almost daring her to play this dangerous game. He glared at her with such intensity, Kyouya thought that it should have scared her. But instead, Kiyoko blinked and relaxed her shoulders. It took more than that to elicit such a reaction. In turn, Kyouya relaxed his grip but still refused to break eye contact.
She noticed it was easy to distract him. How perfect, she thought to herself. All he had to do was stare at her face. She leaned in closer to him, ensuring that his eyes were on hers and not the wine. Her free hand swung over in a swift motion to switch the wine glass over to the other side, farther away from the Ootori.
"If you want wine," Kiyoko smiled. She leaned back in her seat comfortably. "You need your own glass."
He had to admit she was good with her tricks. He sat back and chewed on the breadstick with annoyance. He forgot how much he needed food. The Ootori understood why she became defensive over it – forging business relations took a lot of energy out of both of them with no time to eat, only time to think about who was who and what needed to be said and done.
Kiyoko felt a pang of guilt after realizing that the Ootori had felt the same amount of hunger she did. The angry chewing was reminiscent of her only minutes ago. She silently pushed over the shrimp tartlets, now far too cold to be enjoyed but at least it had some kind of protein. It would keep him fuller than the dry sticks she threw at him for stealing what was hers. He gingerly took her invitation, chewing with his usual scowl.
"Stay here." Kiyoko stood from her seat, her floor length gown following in suit.
"Where are you going?" he began dusting the crumbs off of him to follow her, almost in a panic after he had just grown comfortable.
"I'm coming back," Kiyoko reassured. She put a hand on his shoulder, digging her nails into the fabric of his tailored suit. It was made to relax him. "Stay."
Her pale skin disappeared into the darkness and suddenly he was alone again. The low scoop of the fabric was covered barely by the cape she comfortably draped around her elbows, trailing behind her like an extension of her dress. The thin straps from her shoulders crossed in an X shape in the middle of her back.
She was like a dream. Maybe a bit of a nightmare. He listlessly ate the food on the tray, placating the growls of his stomach. He had made his way through quite a number of the small finger foods, finishing more than half the tray just out of annoyance as he replayed the memories of the night. But mostly, he was stuck thinking about what she looked like two feet away from him on that chair. No, a throne. She could make any chair look like a throne by the way she carried herself.
It was the sound of her heels that had him stop imagining her in front of him. He turned to see the shadow return back to the room just as she promised a few minutes ago. Kiyoko had covered her barren shoulders with the cape, hiding a whole bottle of wine in the long sleeves. She triumphantly revealed the vintage red wine when she stepped into the moonlight, hoping to have gotten a better reaction out of the Ootori than just a raised eyebrow.
"Some gratitude would be nice," she rolled her eyes. "I found wine for you."
"I'm honoured," he responded with the same sardonic tone.
"No glass though," Kiyoko shrugged. "So you can join the barbarian by drinking out of the bottle, hm?" She popped the cork with ease and topped up the one glass before offering the rest of the bottle to him.
He shook his head at the bottle and snatched the glass instead. "I think not." The Ootori took a sip and left her the bottle instead. Kiyoko scoffed at his stupidity.
"Jokes on you, there's more wine in the bottle than in that glass," she said before taking a swig from the bottle itself to prove her point. Kiyoko leaned against the table, her shawl falling down her shoulders naturally back to her elbows when she relaxed. He looked up at her as she shined beneath the moonlight.
Kiyoko glanced over at the Ootori who looked stupefied. Was there something on her face? Was he already drunk? Impossible – if it was anyone who was drunk, it would have been her: drinking on a near empty stomach. She narrowed her eyes at him, gauging him to say something. When he stayed silent, Kiyoko filled the silence with another gulp of the wine and tried to ignore his gaze.
"Why don't you want to be seen?" he pried. He had found her moving from group to group tonight, selecting only a few individuals to speak to and then disappearing again to god knew where. She made the extra effort to never draw attention to herself, despite looking like she was an absolute queen of an empire she had yet to inherit.
"What? Like I'm a ghost?" Kiyoko chuckled at the question. "People will see what they want to see," she answered cryptically.
"I see you," he told her.
Kiyoko turned over to him again, looking down upon the man who was sitting at the table she told him to. It was nice being able to look down at the Ootori if she had to be honest. He was usually towering over her with that height of his. Power looks good on you. She pretended that the phrase did not move her as much as it did. In her usual light tone, she responded to him as though she did not understand what he had meant.
"I'm glad those glasses are doing you well."
"I see your potential," Kyouya explained further, ignoring her snide comment. "You say you don't want status, freedom, or power. But you don't understand, Kiyoko."
"What don't I understand?" she leaned down towards him, egging him to continue. She was closer to his face now, enough to see the way his eyes travelled across her face. He opened his mouth and closed it to swallow. Was it a look of panic or was he just trying to read her expression?
Or maybe he just wanted to kiss her.
He could lean in, cup her cheek with his warm palm and press his lips against hers with that same kind of urgency he had in his voice before he eased into a more relaxed state, pulling her into his lap with a lopsided smile. Or, he could lunge forward and grasp the back of her neck to pull her closer. Was he hungry to taste her wine-stained lips? Would his hands travel down to her waist to pull her flush against his body before they were entangled against the wall in the dark? Would they speak in secrets that they kept from the world?
What was worse: the fact that either of those options ran through her drunken state of mind or that she welcomed both of them?
She leaned away, unsure how much of her own self-restraint she had left in her body.
And then he leaned in.