Chapter 23
She closed her eyes and sunk into the steaming hot bath. It was roomy for one and comfortable for two, her tiny feet rested on his thighs as he sat across from her. She dimmed the lights and lit a few candles, claiming that they must be used at some point. Wafts of the lavender bath salts mixed in with bergamot scented candles filled the air between them with steam coming off of their red hot skin.
"It feels good," she mumbled to him. "The burn."
"Spoken like a true witch."
"Ha ha," Kiyoko flicked water at him for the comment, his joke unappreciated.
He too, sunk down into the water and leaned back in the warmth that enveloped him. The Ootori let himself close his eyes to indulge in the moment. A moment to not have to think about anything, that haze of dreaminess with a naked woman across from him who let him stay to see her in a state of vulnerability she showed nobody else. He felt triumphant, wafting in the pride to have her in ways nobody else did.
"Why did you stay?" she asked, eyes still closed. The dim lighting made it easier to fall into the darkness, her walls retreating slowly and melting away into the bath.
"Toshio-san, was it? He offered me a cigarette."
She cackled at the thought of the Ootori taking a cigarette from the old man. Her laughter echoed against the chambers of the marbled walls. "Ha! As if you'd smoke." When she was met with silence, Kiyoko opened one of eyes and cocked her head at the Ootori who stared back, unamused by her instant dismissal of him.
"No," she shook her head with a grin. "No way. You goodie two-shoes bastard. You don't smoke. You would never," Kiyoko gasped. She crawled over to him and squinted up at the man, looking for him to crack.
"Goodie two-shoes bastard, was it?" he repeated with a growl. He tried not to stare below her collarbones with the milky waters still keeping her modest. The scent of her made him dizzy, or maybe it was the steam from the water. Either way, her stare penetrated into his skull and he could do nothing more than to stare back. Kiyoko shifted cross-legged in-between his legs as she made herself comfortable in the middle of the tub, her neck inching forward to meet him face-to-face with only a few centimeters apart. She was studying him closely for any deviation in his expression.
"It's part of your image," she batted her eyelashes at him, innocently. "Is it not?"
"Whatever," Kyouya rolled his eyes, ignoring the way she teased him for not being a smoker. He hated how she could bat her eyes at him and somehow still make his cock twitch at the sight. Thank goodness for the water being translucent from the bath salts and not transparent.
Her hands inched up over his bare chest as she bore her eyes into his own before meeting his lips. She commanded his attention, making him surrender all his willpower to her with one fell swoop. Her tongue grazed the entrance of his mouth and before he could kiss back with more force, she let out a small moan that made him groan back. Kiyoko had her tricks and he fell for them each time. His lips parted enough for her to taste him and she pulled away with a smirk before he could deepen it further.
"You don't taste like smoke," she concluded, her chest heaving up and down only slightly to catch her breath. It was not like her to show him how breathless he made her.
"Neither do you," he growled, unhappy with the way she had cut off the rhythm they had going on. His hands found their way around her waist, keeping her close to him. She fit so perfectly in his grip.
"Did he teach you to smoke?" Kiyoko chuckled. It was odd imagining Kyouya taking a puff. The Ootori was not a smoker, how could he be? He was spearheading a whole healthcare company, of wellness and longevity. Smoking did not fit what he was made to be. Not with his stupid glasses and that slim-fit suit. He belonged at the front of the class with his notes and laptop. Now he was here, corrupted by her influence and naked before her. Shit, that had to mean something about how much he had grown to like her, didn't it?
"He tried to, yes," he admitted. "Didn't get very far."
"Ah," she nodded with a smile. Just as she thought. "A wise choice, Ootori-san. Keep your lungs healthy. You'll need them." She gently patted his chest and lingered in the middle of his pecs, trying to feel for a heartbeat. His body did not give in with the gentle press of her fingertips, he was lean with muscle. Kiyoko did not want to linger for too long, hoping that he didn't catch her doing something so silly.
He ended up clasping her hand anyway, calmly letting her manicured fingers rest over his bare skin. It was his own silent way of letting her feel him in ways no one else had. She relaxed under him and smiled.
"Did he run his mouth about how annoying I was as a kid?"
"Yes."
She shrugged. "Fair." Kiyoko didn't press on.
"He told me to be patient with you."
"Pfft," she scoffed, brushing over the statement. "That's rich coming from him. Did you know he used to leave me behind at Ouran if I did not make it out in time? One minute late and the man was already halfway down the street, that fucker." They both knew Toshio-san meant more than just her stubborn hard-headed ways.
The Ootori gave a weak laugh. "What else?"
"He taught me to drive but we nearly bit each other's heads off while I was a teenager. That man did not have an ounce of patience in teaching me not to stall on a vehicle," Kiyoko reminisced.
"Hm," Kyouya nodded as he listened intently, quietly processing the information and storing it in the back of his mind. This was her trying her best – her attempt at more, he realized. A brief wave of fear washed over her face when she caught him in a daze and she suddenly stiffened, wondering to herself it was not enough. This was not the more he wanted but it was what she could only give him right now. The things that were easier to talk about – not the scratch on her cheek or the shrapnel she avoided over an hour ago.
"What's wrong? Tell me," he coaxed. "What's on your mind?"
"I might never be enough for you," Kiyoko whispered. Why was she whispering? Was it ever really a secret?
"Then I'll take what I can get," he answered. He was so sure of it. So optimistic about what they shared. It tore her heart apart, tugging and loosening all the mends that she had worked so tirelessly to sew and patch together over the years. How could it be? She was so weak against the man who could put a stray hair behind her ear and kiss her temple like she was all he had ever wanted in the world. She melted into his arms.
It was far too good to be true.
"I'm sorry," was all she could offer. "I know you wanted more." Kiyoko did take his words to heart, imprinting them to the back of her mind. More. But with what to give?
"I do," Kyouya acknowledged the truth. "I'll never have enough of you. But I am selfish and I'll take what you're willing to give."
"For how long?"
"Forever."
She laughed to mask the urge to cry at his sincerity.
"And for that, I don't deserve you," Kiyoko answered. "Nothing lasts forever, Kyouya."
Kyouya, she said. She spoke his name with a heavy heart in the same sincerity he had shown her just seconds ago. She mirrored his affection in any way she could for only a brief second and retreated back into her own invisible chamber that was impenetrable.
He couldn't argue against that. Nothing lasted forever. Even the fact he had uttered that out loud made him feel embarrassed. Kyouya had embarrassed himself in front of her enough that at this point, he felt emboldened to care less about it. He huffed in frustration, realizing they were back where they started.
He still knew nothing about her and he could not change her ways. He was growing tired of this game and she could see it. She predicted it and she too, let out a small sigh.
"Let's talk strategy," she changed the topic. Her tone deepened, a sudden flick of a switch had turned off the playful banter that they enjoyed only moments ago. She leaned back onto her end of the tub and mulled over what was important: the money.
"I was the easy ticket in and out," Kiyoko explained. "Now, I am not."
"Your family still holds the largest psychiatric chain of—"
"I know what my family holds," the Hibayashi cut off with an eye roll. "But it's a dying company, Kyouya. Did you not look at the finances?"
"It's not dying," the Ootori insisted. "It is steady. Stable. Growth is slow but," he was interrupted.
"It's safe," Kiyoko growled. "That's what it is. It's safe because we have perfected the formula in catering to the rich and famous. Our kind are lauded with problems of substance abuse, addiction, depression, the whole thing. And you know what? They just keep paying more and more because they can. We are kept alive as long as the rich continue to fall into that horrid cycle."
The Ootori frowned. "Your point?"
"The commoners," Kiyoko sighed. "The commoners cannot afford care like we can. But they outnumber us. You can make it a household name."
"We're already a household name," the Ootori pointed out.
Kiyoko scoffed. "Do you see my point, Ootori-san? You're not launching into anything new by marrying into this family."
"And you are?" Kyouya shot back.
Kiyoko ignored his question. She was to marry into the Ootoris to appease her grandmother. "I'm telling you that you don't need me, you idiot."
The Ootori chuckled. "I never needed you," he nonchalantly informed. The Ootori had always been a confident bastard. It was almost sickening if she hadn't found it so charming. She exuded the same sort of confidence, or at least, she tried to. Kiyoko was about to retort with something spiteful to shoot down his ego a notch before he continued. "I wanted you, Kiyoko. I still do."
He is very clearly in love with you.
That's absurd.
Kiyoko blinked. Well that was something she was unprepared for.
"That doesn't seem very logical," the Hibayashi reminded. "Don't be silly," she chided.
"Was that what you wanted to do?" he asked curiously. "Cater to a more extensive demographic?" He sat up, now more intrigued by the thought. It was good. It had potential for profit.
Kiyoko frowned. "It's nothing. Just an idea," she wanted nothing more than to change the topic right about now.
"It's doable," Kyouya continued, nodding at the prospect some more. "With the current foundation that the company has built and the way that healthcare is evolving."
"I," Kiyoko was at a loss for words. "I… suppose," she grew shy at the thought of him taking her idea with such enthusiasm. No one cared to listen to her like this, to even allow her to dream. Not that this was something she often dreamt of. She did not particularly care for the company. It was a silly thought.
But like anyone who needed to survive, Kiyoko had to consider long-term growth. That company had the key to everyone's livelihood. Her father had been stuck in his ways, after all, why fix a formula that wasn't broken after so many decades? The rich became richer. The poor became poorer. What was new?
"And the Hibayashi group is currently not a household name," Kyouya pointed out.
"Yes, thank you very much, Ootori-san," Kiyoko muttered. Way to exert your status above me, she wanted to add.
"But you can make it one," he encouraged. "Was this what you wanted?" His face lit up like he had finally found the answer that he was looking for. He had wrongly assumed her motivation in all of this.
Kiyoko was speechless for the second time. No, it wasn't, she wanted to say.
It was never a want or a need. She never cared for the company like the Ootori did. That was his life's purpose. And for Kiyoko, she never had one – never needed one. She was not allowed to have a purpose beyond being pawned off when the time was right. And now, it seemed like the timing would never be right. Kiyoko had no reason to care for the family business, she had no loyalty to the name or to the people who ran it.
But the Ootori thought he had hit the jackpot with the sudden revelation. At tapping into her ambition, one that aligned so beautifully with his own. Kyouya was suddenly drafting ideas on expansion, on the premise of how to create this whole empire, a Hibayashi-Ootori joint venture.
And Kiyoko sat there, unable to burst the man's bubble. The thought of the Hibayashi group bored her. But it was an idea. Not a dream. Just a thought. Somehow, Kyouya had made it into a whole different prospect: a feasible business plan.
"You can make it happen," Kyouya lurched forward to Kiyoko who was still in a daze, mulling over whatever was in her mind. "Kiyoko," he shook her shoulders, splashing water out of the tub. "You are brilliant. You've known this. You could achieve so much," he very nearly begged for her to see some sense in this.
The woman shook her head. "No," she mumbled with a shake of her head. "I'm just… just an art curator. I know nothing about management," Kiyoko softly denied. "I don't have a degree in business. I don't know the ins and outs of our company, not like you with your own. The company will never be mine to take."
Kyouya huffed. "Why can't you see yourself the way I see you?"
"Maybe because I'm not what you see me as," Kiyoko argued back.
"You're a businesswoman," he told her. "You run art galleries to pass the time but instead you could run an empire," Kyouya reminded.
Power looks good on you, he once said.
"You run empires, Kyouya. I just," Kiyoko sighed. "Pass the time," she echoed with a twinge of regret in her voice. But it was not just to pass the time. She was an art curator purely for Haru's sake. It was his line of work, it was his way of living. Who else to do this but her? Kiyoko had no time to dream, no time to think of what she had wanted to do to pass the time, if she had any.
"Fine," he grumbled, still unwilling to let this go. "Then let's make this clear: you need me. Let's face it, no one else could achieve what you want but me. You want to talk strategy, let's talk strategy. You must use me to get to what you want."
That's not what I want, she wanted to scream. But what did she want?
"But what if all I want…" Kiyoko trailed off. She was in this for Haru. All she wanted was for her brother to thrive. To be happy. To erase the childhood that they both endured into a comfortable life. Comfort meant money. Money meant their family name. It was a simple solution. And anything beyond that seemed unrealistic.
"Tell me what you want," he pleaded. "I'll give it to you. Anything in the world, Kiyoko." He told her this once before, but her walls were still fortified. She now sat across from him, completely barren with a battle scar on her jaw. Kyouya saw her at her rawest form. He had come so far since then.
Anything in the world, he said. She never dared to dream. Kiyoko did not know what it felt to have ambition coursing through your veins – only the adrenaline rush of survival. Never knew what it was like to indulge in something you were not allowed to have until he came along.
Kiyoko did not know what she had wanted all her life. But she was sure, more than anything else in the world, that she wanted him. All of him, every part of him she wanted to own and devour, every bit of happiness she had experienced in the last year had the sweet aftertaste of him at the back of her mind. Kiyoko knew she would never be allowed to have it, not all of it. So she indulged in the small pieces she was allowed to keep of him: his soft chuckles when he appreciated her quips, his tender kisses all over her body, his arms that held her captive in his warmth while she lay naked in her bed.
She kissed him with fervor, hoping he could understand that she wanted him, and in her naïveté she knew of nothing else she could ask for. He welcomed the sudden surge of affection, leaning back with the sudden force she thrusted upon him. The water had cooled slightly but their bodies were still warm from each other.
"Tell me what you want," he asked again, breaking off their kiss to catch his breath again.
"You," she sighed into him. "I just want you. Please, please, please," she choked back tears. It didn't seem real that she could have him, that he would offer him up to her like a sacrifice. Kiyoko was not ready to tell him the backstory of her entire family, childhood stories that were less than picturesque, or the fact that she dedicated her life to being a caretaker for her neurodivergent brother.
"You already have me," Kyouya assured. There was no need to beg. No need to cry. He kissed her temple to soothe her. "Since that time you let me sit with you in the library at Ouran."
"That's my favourite spot," she told him, eyes now smiling along with her lips. That was his favourite look on her. A happy Kiyoko seemed so rare. "That's why I was always late to being picked up by Toshio-san," Kiyoko laughed to herself. "I was always reading."
Tell me what you want.
"I had always wanted to be a writer," she blurted out, a natural segue into the whole topic. She told nobody of this. Nobody except Haru, of course. But he did not really care about such whimsical ideas. He once took a journal of her handwritten poems, a project of one of her classes from university and doodled through all of them. It made her so angry at the time, where he scrawled on each page where she had poured her heart out. A few years later, it ironically was the one thing she submitted to a publishing firm when one of her clients mentioned that he owned one. She figured it would never get past an editor and quite frankly, she had nothing to lose if she published under a pseudonym.
Kyouya smiled, fascinated by the progress he had made with her today. "You do have a creative writing degree." He put two and two together. It made sense. "What do you write about?" He pushed his luck.
"I don't write," Kiyoko shook her head. "Not anymore. I'm too busy."
"Oh?" he nuzzled his chin into her neck, trying to coax her to tell him more. "What did you write about before?"
"Whatever the prompts were in class. I never really wrote more than that. Never had the confidence," she admitted shyly.
"Why not?" Kyouya wondered. He was drawn to her confidence when he first met her – the way she forcibly made the crowd cower at her. She preyed on fear, feasted on the way that people stared her down. But with him, she crawled into a shell that the public always mistook as her impenetrable armour. It took a tremendous amount of patience to draw her out of it.
"I don't have any stories to tell," Kiyoko murmured.
"You told me many," Kyouya reminded. "I could listen all day."
She scoffed and shook her head at him, not buying his words for even a second. But if not him, then who? Who would she tell these little inklings of her childhood to? Who would care as much as he did? Kiyoko lazily intertwined her fingers with his, letting him engulf her small hands. She gave a small squeeze and then a tug to pull him out of the tub.
"Can I show you something?" Her voice was soft but it was the most courage she could muster up. He nodded eagerly, following her swiftly out of the cocoon they had built. She wrapped herself in a robe, hair now damp at the nape of her neck and her face more visibly relaxed. He let her gently pat on the skincare she forced him to use while with her, his eyes closing instinctively as her gentle fingers slid down his nose and his jaws. She planted a kiss on his lips to tell him she was done and then dragged him out of the bathroom to her study.
Kyouya had never been in this room as the door was always closed. He had assumed that it was a study of sorts, her own home office. One wall was lined with shelves of books from the ceiling to the ground. The other wall was an entire whiteboard of dates and schedules, blueprints, concepts, and numbers. This was her brain. Her own little empire that she ran. The Ootori was fascinated by her organization. He could not help but to stare. It was beautiful. Kyouya was in awe of it all.
"Oi," Kiyoko snapped her fingers to get his attention. "That's proprietary. Eyes on me," she tugged his arm to the other side with the bookshelf. She leaned down towards the university math textbooks she had kept – no longer in pristine condition and worn down at the spine. It was followed by notebooks, lined by date and the course codes. These were nearly a decade old. Her fingers finally stopped at one particular journal, navy blue and soft leather bound. It was frayed at the corners without any label, unlike the rest of her notebooks. She carefully slid it out and handed it over to the man with both her hands.
"What is this?" he asked quizzically, reluctantly accepting the gift.
"Uh," Kiyoko suddenly grew embarrassed, averting her gaze from him. "My writing… from long ago."
His fingers traced the edges. It was worn and well-used, even water had seeped onto the pages and dried over with only the elastic band barely holding it together as the journal expanded. Kyouya's curiosity grew as his hands pawed to open up the bounded notebook by the band and to devour all of her thoughts.
"Wait," she put her hand over his, unsure of whether this had been a good idea at all. "Don't read it," Kiyoko murmured. "Not in front of me," she added.
"Why?" the Ootori had to will himself to keep his hands from diving into the pages.
Kiyoko stared at the leather-bound journal she kept. This was a piece of her soul. It started off as a semester's worth of work. Only 3 months over the winter term. It shouldn't have been that big of a deal, only that her heart had been poured into these poems even well after that course had ended. Poems were easy. Free-flowing. Quick. Simple. It did not require too much thought for the words to flow out of her brain when it came so naturally. The fraying cover was a testament to the year of writing she had done in little increments, in coffee shops or on long haul flights, up until the very last page.
"Just um," Kiyoko sighed. "It's embarrassing. Read it. Don't mention it. Burn it, or whatever," she waved off. "But it's yours," she quietly added. And maybe, just maybe – he would understand her a little better. "It's the original copy."
"What do you mean by that?"
She shrugged, unwilling to explain any further. It was a published work in English but soon to be in Japanese, hence all those meetings with publishers a few months ago. It was difficult enough revisiting her work as it took a toll on her emotionally and having to translate it into a language with the same nuance... nonetheless, there was no guarantee that it would have the same sort of success on a Japanese audience. Either way, she gave him a large part of her soul. "It's handwritten by yours truly."
"An honour," he smiled, cherishing the notebook with a tightened grip. Kiyoko wanted to melt at his gaze. He watched as her shoulders lowered in relief, a sigh coming from her mouth in feeling like it was not a mistake. This was trust.
This was more, he thought to himself.
She somehow convinced him to put her notebook away on the bedside table without even reading a single page and to let her fall asleep in his arms instead. Kyouya always slept better at her place – he had chalked it up to her mattress but deep down, there was something very comforting about keeping her close. When he woke to an empty bed, it was nothing new. But he never woke without a steaming cup of coffee awaiting him. It was the simple pleasures in life that he had grown fond of.
He had woken just in time to Kiyoko quietly putting the cup down, right on top of her notebook, using it as a coaster. Kyouya could not help but to grunt at the action, still half-asleep and unable to speak coherent thoughts. It was 6:08 in the morning.
"What are you? An ape?" she jeered.
"Good morning to you too," Kyouya growled as he slowly sat up to rub his eyes. "Come back," he demanded when he saw her step into her closet. "Have coffee with me."
"I'm changing," she rolled her eyes. She already had her morning coffee, anyway.
"Why bother? It'll come off again," the Ootori smirked. Early mornings are rough but he was usually rewarded for it.
"Shut up," Kiyoko groaned.
Perhaps today was not one of those days where he was awarded for getting up early at the crack of dawn.
He sipped on his much needed caffeine without disappointment and turned his head over to the leather bound notebook. Just as he was about to reach for it, Kiyoko reappeared out of the closet in a dress. It was squared off at the shoulders like a blazer with a collared neckline. It did unbelievable things to her legs as it stopped mid-thigh and was of no help to him when she eventually crawled into bed beside him and took a sip of his coffee from his mug.
"Cute, isn't it?" she looked down at the outfit. It showed enough cleavage to draw someone in but not enough to seem inappropriate for work. She put her hair up in a bun. "It's new."
He could do nothing but nod slowly before taking another long gulp of his coffee. Damn, it was good. All of this was good. Could life be any more perfect with her? He never wanted to leave this nest they had built together.
"And it's not coming off," Kiyoko warned lowly. "I have an 8 AM meeting that I will not be late for. And you," she poked him in the shoulder with a perfectly manicured finger. "You have to be at work by 9."
"It's 6:15," Kyouya rolled his eyes. What was the rush? And besides, it sounded like a challenge when she said her dress was not coming off. The man was ready to take it on.
"Yes, but your car is still at our estate," she reminded. "It'll take us time to get there and of course, time for you to get back to your own place to change so you don't have to do the walk of shame into your office."
"It's never a walk of shame when you own the place," Kyouya nonchalantly reminded. Although he had to admit, she did have a good point about his car still being at the estate. It was quite an inconvenience to have left it there when he needed it for the rest of the day.
"Oh fuck off," she rolled her eyes. "Drink quickly, Ootori-san. We have work to do."
He obeyed without any retaliation. He became a much more pliable man after caffeine. The Ootori managed to get up and ready by half past the hour. It was almost impressive were it not for Kiyoko also scrambling to put on her makeup for the day in the time it took for the man to be ready by the door. She wore her glasses today after not having the time to poke her eyes with her contacts. Makeup was easier when she could hide behind the frames. Kyouya made sure not to forget the leather journal on the bedside table, eager to crack it open to give it a read through as soon as he had the time for it.
"I'll see you tonight."
"No, you won't," Kiyoko shook her head. It was just like the Ootori to make the assumption and to insert himself into her life without any consideration. It would have annoyed her more had she not found him so oddly endearing. "I'm busy."
"Busy?"
"Just because you work regular hours doesn't mean I do. Come on now," she ushered him out the door. "I have a dinner with a client," Kiyoko explained as she unlocked the car. Rich people did business over meals. Meals at exclusive and expensive places, not in the confines of an office.
"I can wait for you here," Kyouya offered before stepping into the passenger side of the vehicle.
"You don't live here, you bastard," she responded with a huff.
"I may as well," he said. Kyouya put on the seatbelt like it was second nature and leaned back in the seat. He stretched his legs out while adjusting the position of the chair and made himself comfortable. Kiyoko rolled her eyes at the man. How could he be so annoying and yet so good looking?
"My home is fit for one person," she argued back, turning on the ignition. The engine roared to life while the dashboard lit up.
"It has enough room for two," Kyouya pointed out.
"Have you seen my closet?" Kiyoko narrowed her eyes at him. "It does not have room for you." She took up the spare rooms as a place for storage for her jewelry and gowns. There was most certainly no room for this idiot and his Armani suits.
Kyouya pondered this dilemma for a few minutes. "I suppose you are right. We should find a place then." An easy solution.
"A what?" Kiyoko nearly slammed the brakes wanting to pump the brakes figuratively on this whole idea.
"Or you can make room for me in your closet."
"I never asked you to move in with me."
"It makes logical sense, does it not?" Kyouya pondered. "You and I. We spend so much time already at your—"
"No," Kiyoko refused. "I like space," she insisted.
"I don't," Kyouya admitted.
"Well," she frowned. "Why not? Distance makes the heart grow fonder or whatever." She had to admit it was quite a flimsy excuse but Kiyoko kept her gaze towards the road, refusing to let the Ootori's gaze bear any effect on her morning. She picked up the speed, beating the morning rush hour as they drove further away from the city.
"I don't like the distance," he murmured, turning away from her and looking towards the road as well. They were on the highway by now. "I like being around you."
"I must be quite the distraction," Kiyoko teased.
"You are," he responded without shame.
She let that one sit in the lull of their silence. It didn't seem to have the same kind of light tone of a flirtatious remark. It was a confession.
"You are too," Kiyoko quietly whispered. "It's not good."
"Why not?" he smirked. "Do you think of me?"
She slowed down behind a few cars and grew annoyed that they were losing minutes on their half hour commute like this. 20 more minutes until they would reach her family home. "Don't you?" she snapped.
"All the time. I wonder what you're up to all day."
"I'm working," she scoffed. "What else would I be doing?"
"I'm not really sure what you do." He had a vague idea of it but having seen the whiteboard in her study, things made more sense. She was a self-made businesswoman and it showed.
Kiyoko sighed. "I'm working on art deals with clients and artists. Meetings. Wining and dining," she listed off. "And then beyond appeasing the rich and famous, I'm crunching numbers, scheduling, and planning exhibitions."
"Your whiteboard," he noted. Kyouya only managed to catch a glimpse but the organization of each detail sat in his brain with fascination.
"That is literally none of your business," Kiyoko glared. "And besides, I don't know what you do all day, either. You sit in meetings, read some reports, make some decisions, and you call it a day?"
"Essentially, yes," Kyouya perched up his glasses. "Why do you have so many restaurants on your whiteboard? Do you take client meetings in them?"
"Yes."
The Ootori narrowed his eyes at her. "And…?"
"And…" Kiyoko repeated, easing into the driver's seat without elaborating. She kept her eyes on the road and her hand over the stick shift in a relaxed grip.
"There must be more to it," he pressed on.
The Hibayashi only shrugged. She tilted up her glasses against her nose bridge quickly before landing back on the gearbox. "Art comes and goes. Food is a necessity," she explained. "I'm a silent investor in much of the exclusive restaurants on that list. Though admittedly, some of them just come for the free meal. Either way, I suppose I got lucky with my investments."
"Lucky?" Kyouya echoed. He remembered how she was able to drop her name to get into restaurants and bars. It made sense now. This woman dressed head to toe in designer clothing with taste that screamed generational wealth. She was cultured. She was smart. And fuck, she looked good in those cat-eyed frames. "Those were calculated investments, Kiyoko."
She smiled, trying not to glow at his recognition of her. "Yes, of course. But I have our family chef to thank," Kiyoko waved off. "He has contacts in the restaurant industry. These chefs have really wonderful visions that are executed beautifully. I just give them a space to do it. Or I suppose, I am one of the many investors who let them do so."
"And reap the benefits, of course."
"It's not that easy," Kiyoko explained. "You're always losing money in the first couple of years. This is probably the first year of many of those restaurants where we're finally making a sizeable profit."
Kyouya nodded. "What else have you invested in?"
"Real estate," she shrugged. "A safe bet."
"Where?" he couldn't help his dying curiosity. She came from wealth and she was fucking good at keeping it too.
"It'll be outlined in the prenup, darling," Kiyoko rolled her eyes. "And besides, I'm not that rich. I'm not yacht-rich," she added.
"Yachts are a terrible investment," the Ootori scoffed at the thought.
She laughed. At least they were on the same page on that. He could listen to her laugh forever. Kyouya loved the way her eyes smiled along with her lips as she tried keep her chuckle low. She lined her lips in a crisp dark burgundy today. And that blazer dress with her French updo? Kyouya had to look out the window to stop thinking about what he could do to her.
"Getting ahead of ourselves with the prenup, aren't we? I haven't even proposed yet," the Ootori casually changed the topic.
"But you want to move in together," Kiyoko reminded.
"Makes sense, no?"
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and bit her lip as she pondered over it. "No," Kiyoko shook her head. "I think you should diversify."
"Diversify?"
"Like in investments," the Hibayashi explained. "You're in too deep with me."
"And you're not?" the Ootori shot back.
"I said what I said," Kiyoko murmured. "I meant it."
"Then why not? It could be so simple," Kyouya felt like he was getting whiplash with this woman. All this back and forth. It was frustrating and made no sense. "Sometimes I feel like I don't even know you," he shook his head. "You said you wanted me. You have me."
Kiyoko felt the stinging in her eyes and blinked them away as quick as she could. She gripped the stick shift tighter, her jaw tightened. She sat up a little taller and focused on driving.
"I was being selfish last night," Kiyoko broke the silence. Did she regret it? No. But was it hard to explain? Yes.
"So be selfish, for fuck's sake. Take what you deserve," the Ootori demanded. "You deserve an empire to run. You're not just a pawn for your grandmother."
The Hibayashi shook her head. "The business is… secondary."
"Secondary?" Kyouya repeated. "Kiyoko, you could inherit millions—"
"—It's you," she cut off. "It's you I don't deserve. I don't want to hurt you."
"How could you ever hurt me?" he asked, exasperated.
"I'm hurting you now, aren't I?"
"You're frustrating me," he corrected. "But you haven't hurt me."
"I hurt you yesterday," Kiyoko sighed, thinking about how she had treated him.
"You didn't mean it," Kyouya knew her better than that. "Whatever it is, we can figure this out together."
The Hibayashi pulled the car to a stop. Her chest began to ache while her head began pounding at the sight of her childhood home. The place never triggered such an unwarranted reaction before. She needed to get out of here quickly.
"No," Kiyoko refused firmly. "This is mine."
"What do you mean?" Kyouya was not following. She had pulled up right beside his car that had been sitting at the edge of their lot overnight.
"My family is my affair to solve. It is not yours," Kiyoko stood her ground. "Whatever you saw last night, I will not let you be a part this disaster. Marrying me won't solve it any of it."
"I could help," he tried, his eyes flashing at her jaw that was now covered in a layer of concealer. Kyouya could remember what her face looked like less than 12 hours before, rosy and a thin trail of blood. Today, her skin was flawless. She looked like a completely different person.
"I don't want your help," the Hibayashi dismissed. "And I don't think we should see each other again."
"What?" Did he hear right? Kyouya narrowed his eyes at her, obviously annoyed by what she had just said
"I don't think we should see each other again," she repeated firmly.
He stared at her, searching for that little twinkle in her eye when she joked. But instead, she met his eyes as if daring him to call her out on a lie. She could have sworn she felt his heart skip a beat with hers. It hurt her too. Kiyoko unlocked the car with a flick of a button.
"Get out of my car, Ootori-san."
Kyouya crossed his arms and shook his head. "You can't keep playing this game—"
"It's not a game," Kiyoko coldly cut off. "I'm not playing."
"If you wanted space—"
Kiyoko took a deep breath. "I don't want to see you anymore." Just take a piece of my heart and never give it back. It's yours to keep.
"You said you wanted me," he nearly pleaded.
"I…" she pinched her nose. She felt her stomach drop 10 storeys at the sound of his voice. Now was not the time to be weak. That was yesterday. "I was being stupid." I was in love, for fuck's sake. Of course, I would say stupid things, she wanted to scream.
"So all of this was just stupid?" he roared.
"Time wasted, yes," Kiyoko agreed monotonously.
"Fuck you," he snarled in a fit of rage. "Make up your fucking mind, woman. I meant it when I told you you had all of me and you're throwing me away, and for what?"
"I said I would hurt you, didn't I?" Kiyoko knew just the thing to say to push him over the edge. That was what she was good at, after all she watched everyone do it in her home for eighteen years. "I'm the monster I always warned you about."
He slammed the door on the way out and she wasted no time revving the engine to leave him behind.