Ouran High School Host Club Fan Fiction ❯ Rubbing The Lamp ❯ Ch 9 Kyoya's Second Wish ( Chapter 14 )

Disclaimer: Ouran Host Club belongs to Bisco Hatori, not me. I make no profit off this story. If Bisco Hatori-san wishes, I will remove this from the web upon her personal request.

 

 

This chapter was written as a response to the week 62 Makin' Lemonaide challenge theme: “Control Freak vs. Control Freak. What happens when there are two people who want to be in control?”

 

 

 

Chapter 9

 

 

“Normally, I would never ask something like this of you. I'd had something else in mind for this wish, really. However, I cannot fail to attend this event, and it would be unfair to everyone to postpone your task with me.”

 

A heavy sigh was her only response, and then she turned to enter her practice/changing room where his sister's personal attendant was waiting.

 

He spared one last look at her retreating form before entering a separate practice room to prepare himself. While the school uniform was quite dashing, it was inappropriate for a business dinner at one of his father's establishments.

 

He hadn't been lying to her. This event had been very last minute. His oldest brother was supposed to be the one attending tonight for an unannounced review of the facility's capabilities - without the staff realizing they were being reviewed. Then afterward, there would be a brief meeting with the managing director and his father, offsite, to discuss the findings. Of course, the managing director only knew that he was being called offsite to meet with his boss. He had no idea that a surprise inspection was to occur.

 

It had been planned for months. But this morning, his brother got called into the hospital for an emergency. And since his other brother's fiancée had made them well known there, they couldn't fill in. (Unfortunately, she had requested a special weekend with him about a month prior and the waitress who was serving them dinner the first night had made a mistake with the order, then asked them to wait while she corrected the problem. “Do you know who we are?!?” was just the beginning of the announcement to the staff that management was in the building. It had not been pretty.)

 

So that left Kyoya. His father had called him at lunchtime to request (demand) his assistance. “In order to truly judge the capabilities of the staff, you'll need to appear to be an average client. If you cannot find an acceptable date, one will be found for you.” Translation: get a date or be stuck for an evening with a spoiled brat who happens to be the daughter of a potential business partner - one to whom you'll have to show a good time despite how much you will dislike her.

 

“A date will not be a problem, father. Have reservations at the spa already been secured?”

 

And that was that. A few phone calls later and everything was set up.

 

This was how Kyoya came to set up a date with her, how he came to be changing into a black Armani suit while his sister's personal attendant was dressing Haruhi in Vera Wang and styling her hair and makeup so that she wouldn't feel underdressed - and so that she would clearly be female for the date.

 

He knew she hated costumes. But it couldn't be helped.

 

As he straightened his tie, he smiled his private smile. He was taking Haruhi on a date - a real date, at a spa restaurant. It wasn't in his initial plan, but that's why he spent so much time planning anyway, so that when things changed, he'd be better able to adapt and make the most of it all.

 

Sure this wasn't his initial plan. But having her in his bedroom, folding his clothes and reorganizing his drawers in a way that his sister would no longer be able to mess them up - well, she might have thought that was a little too personal for the shadow king. It might have made her suspicious of his motives.

 

He stepped out into the main music room to wait for her.

 

The only regret was that she wouldn't be alone in his bedroom with him. In his bedroom, he would have been able to test her reactions, to see if she was truly starting to realize the differences between man and woman. She certainly did blush more frequently now. And she wetted her lips once every 9.2 minutes (on average) when in the presence of her fellow club members. Before the wishes, he could count the total number of times her tongue had darted out of her mouth on his fingers. And that's total in the entire time he'd known her.

 

Of course, nothing besides testing her reactions would have happened in his bedroom tonight. He certainly wasn't thinking that there'd be an opportunity to crawl over her while she was lying flustered on his bed.

 

And a date situation might be even better for judging her interest levels. Really, he wasn't disappointed by the situation at all. He was king of planning and this was just -

His brain froze for a second as she stepped out of the dressing room. The simple, yet elegant cut of the dress Fuyumi had chosen was perfect for her. It was perfect for her slender frame, clinging to the curves, subtly accenting them. She looked delicate yet strong, like an orchid. Or night-blooming jasmine. His mouth hung open in a small “O” and breathing totally slipped his mind.

 

Her head cocked to the side in her usual confused puppy way as hesitatingly she called, “Kyo… ya-senpai?”

 

Without realizing it, he smiled softly at her before reasserting his normal business-like persona. “It's just Kyoya tonight. Remember? I need you to act as a real date for me, or we won't be able to fool the staff into thinking we're a real couple out for an evening of entertainment, and we won't be appropriately able to judge the service.”

 

She nodded. “Right.”

 

He reached for her hand and escorted her out to his awaiting limousine.

 

XX

 

Dinner had gone remarkably well. He knew that she truly desired the gourmet foods of the world - all the while proclaiming the stupidity of spending money on such transient things instead of investing - and the restaurant was rated five-star. He'd coached her a bit on the way over. There will be no prices on the menu. Just order what you like and don't worry about it.

 

When she asked, he'd assured her with a chuckle, “No, this won't be added onto your debt. Father is sending us, so it is a company expense. A cost of doing business.”

 

“If this is a business event, why am *I* here?” she asked softly.

 

He smiled. “For the same reason I am. My brother got called to the emergency room, and we're the replacement team.” He saw that she wasn't convinced and continued. “While this isn't what I initially wished from you, it does work out to my favor. I get to save the day for father. And if you hadn't agreed to come with me, I would have been forced to bring another date - one provided by father from his long list of business contacts. A daughter or cousin that they're looking to marry off to the wealthiest contender.” Under his breath he muttered, “Vultures and harpies, all of them.”

 

He hadn't meant her to hear that, but she had and he was genuinely pleased by the surprised smile the comment had produced.

 

At the restaurant, she'd taken him at his word and ordered what she thought sounded good, choosing one of the two finest entrees on the menu. He ordered them a bottle of wine that matched their meals and though he knew she didn't usually drink, she didn't argue or question him.

 

Her table manners were perfect, and their conversation was delightful, ranging from opinions on politics to a discussion on classical music. That topic brought them to talking about Tamaki.

 

“It really is amazing how the music changes him. He's like a spoiled, overgrown puppy most of the time. But when he sits down to play, everything is different.” As she spoke, there was awe in her face.

 

He understood that. “Yes. I remember the first time I saw him play.” Funny how seeing that look attributed to a memory of his best friend made him remember so keenly how much he hated the French fool back then. “I pretty much chalked him up as useless space until then. He was such a spoiled brat, getting everything he wanted so easily.” But to be fair, that hadn't been the truth - or not all of it. “He even was able to manipulate me into doing whatever he wanted.”

 

Haruhi raised an eyebrow at him and shook her head. “I don't believe that. Not from the master manipulator.”

 

He smiled at her with his shark smile. “Of course, you're right. He wasn't manipulating me. He was just being Tamaki. And I hadn't quite mastered him yet. You must know a person well before you can truly get everything you want.”

 

“That, I believe. That fits your M.O.” She nodded her head, remembering the filing they'd done. Their hands brushing rounded out the memory, and she quickly picked up her wine glass to hide her flush by taking a sip.

 

He chuckled a bit at her comment and took a sip of wine. Casually, he began speaking again, “And I must admit that I did learn from Tamaki,” but not until she looked up at him and he captured her eyes with his own did his face make the shift from host to Shadow King as he continued, “to not give up on what I want.”

 

`I want her.' (That's the whole point of this game.)

`No game. I want her.' (And I'll have her. Look at how wide her eyes have gotten. And she's not breaking away from looking at me. Just like I've dreamed. She'll be under me with those eyes…)

`That's not enough. I WANT her.' (Don't be ridiculous. One night. Then she'll be out of my system. And I always get what I want.)

`God, I want her.' (Yes.)

 

The blush on her face as she broke eye contact and looked down toward the table surprised him. But more surprising was the fact that when he turned his attention to what she was looking at, he found his hand gently holding hers on the table. When had he taken her hand in his own? His heart rate increased at the sight and he coughed to give him an excuse to pull his own hand back.

 

He couldn't tell if he imagined disappointment on her face when he did so. And before he had the chance to apologize, the waitress was at the table again.

 

 

X

 

It was tiny in his hand. The handle pinched between his forefinger and thumb, he held the cup under his nose, savoring the bitter aroma before sampling the strong roasted flavor, eyes briefly closed in pleasure. When he opened them again, he noticed her twinkling eyes and an amused grin on her face.

 

“Good?” she asked. Somehow he couldn't help but smile back at her.

 

“Eat your dessert.”

 

“It's so pretty, it's almost a shame,” she said as her fork sliced through the flourless chocolate torte in front of her. He had to admit, the presentation was flawless. A miniature, individual torte sat centered on the glass plate with a drizzle of raspberry wine sauce forming a lacework pattern over it all. It was topped with a small dollop of fresh whipped crème and garnished with a wedge of Swiss dark chocolate.

 

He watched as her fork came to her mouth and she took a taste. And then, her face lost all expression. She stared blankly, almost like someone who'd seen a ghost, eyes wider than usual - although it was hard to imagine her eyes being any bigger than they usually were.

 

“Good or bad?” he inquired.

 

She closed her eyes and her head tilted back, exposing her throat to him so that he could see clearly the movement of swallowing as the rich concoction that had melted in her mouth slid slowly down her throat.

 

“Ah. Good, then.” He answered himself, the slightest trace of laughter lacing his voice.

 

Her eyes opened and fastened on him. “Good,” she agreed, then cut off another bite. The fork extended toward him as she said, “Here. Try some.”

 

One hand waved curtly in front of him as he gestured to his beloved caffeine with the other. “That's quite alright. I'm perfectly happy with my own dessert.”

 

She huffed quietly and then smiled. “Your loss.” She ate the bite off the fork slowly and sensuously, allowing the dessert to dissolve on her tongue, sliding the clean fork out between her full lips, savoring every molecule of flavor. “Mmm. Soooo good.”

 

His mouth dried as he watched her. She had no idea - absolutely none - of the picture she was portraying for him. She was simply being Haruhi, there in the moment, not hiding anything, expressing exactly what she felt.

 

Unconsciously swallowing and smacking his lips, he reached for his espresso, never taking his eyes off her as he sipped.

 

`I want to make her look like that.'

 

Her eyes looking at him curiously brought him out of his reverie, and she smiled and said, “You *do* want some.” Before he could blink, she'd cut off a piece of the torte and was pushing her fork back toward him again.

 

He opened his mouth to say, “No, thank you,” and she pushed the fork forward trying to get the food in his mouth. Quickly he turned his head, causing the dessert to smudge against his face. Eyes closed as he grimaced.

 

“Oh. Sorry,” was all she said. He heard her set her fork down.

 

A contrite expression greeted him as he opened his eyes again. “Sorry,” she mumbled again. He shook his head, amused, as his tongue darted out in an attempt to lick off the offending confection.

 

“Tasty.” One raised eyebrow and a slight smirk belied the sarcastic tone to his voice. He chuckled at her surprise. His finger wiped off the remainder of chocolate and without thinking he stuck it between his lips, sucking it clean.

 

`Did I imagine it, or did she just react to that?' (This could be fun…)

 

Swiftly, he recovered the neglected fork, swirling a bit of the whipped cream onto it and then tapping her nose before she could realize what he'd planned.

 

“Oh!” she exclaimed in surprise. Then eyes narrowed as she reached for an extra utinsel, cutting off another forkful. “Kyoya…” Her voice was playful and threatening all at the same time, waving the fork in front of her as the whipped cream still hung on her nose.

 

“Really, Haruhi,” he chided, his voice sounding condescending and taunting, “I know you're not used to eating in a restaurant of this caliber, but a bit more decorum, please.” Before anger could manifest, he took advantage of that split second where shock at what he'd said had her frozen. His forefinger - the same one that had removed the chocolate from his own face - wiped her nose clean of cream. Then, slowly, he opened his mouth to suck his finger completely clean.

 

It was oh, so rewarding to watch the emotions change on her face. Surprise melted toward anger, quickly replaced by confusion, which melted into… her mouth falling open, then clicking shut. She swallowed hard and took a big gulp from her cup of black coffee. He could see she was managing to school her face to a calm mask. So it was definitely time to push it a bit further.

 

Sucking a bit harder, he sounded out a low, humming, “Mmmmmm.”

 

He had to hand it to her. If it had been Tamaki who had been startled like she was, he'd have been coated in a full spray of coffee. She merely began choking and coughing for a couple of seconds.

 

He reached across, rubbing her back gently and murmuring the appropriate sounds of concern. Soon, she waved him off and took a sip of water. After cautiously swallowing, she looked at him. “So you like whipped cream,” she stated casually.

 

His eyes drilled into hers for a second as he responded, “Not particularly.” Then he broke eye contact and took a nonchalant sip of espresso. When he looked back up, she hadn't moved. “We should probably finish up here soon. We do have an appointment to keep.”

 

“Right,” she responded, and took another bite of her dessert.

 

X

 

They were out of sight from the spa and yet he still maintained the hold on her hand within his own. Presumably, she had taken hold of his hand only to keep up the appearance of a couple on a date that he needed for this task - not because she really wanted to hold it.

 

Soft, delicate, but strong and capable - that described every part of her, her fingers no less. He should be letting her hand go. He should have released it minutes ago. But for some reason, he just didn't want to, and she wasn't complaining.

 

He looked over at her and she looked back at him and smiled nervously.

 

“I know my father can be… somewhat curt. But I'll handle it all, so don't worry.”

 

“I'm not worried.”

 

He nodded. He didn't believe her, but he wasn't going to push it.

 

They entered the lobby of the hotel where they were meeting the head of Ootori Enterprises and crossed over to the lounge.

 

“As you can see, Ootori-sama, the client comment cards all indicate our excellent level of service. I assure you-”

 

“And yet, your profit rates are not as high as anticipated. I admit that it appears you have done well at managing to decrease expenditures over last year. And it cannot be argued that the facility is showing some measure of profit. But we had projected growth in your venue to be double what it is. So how do we explain this?”

 

“I-”

 

“Perhaps a first-hand analysis of the facility will help shed some light.” Kyoya's brusque manner inserted itself flawlessly into the conversation.

 

“Hinaka-san, may I introduce Ootori Kyoya-san.”

 

“A… a pleasure,” the man stuttered out. It was apparent that he believed the appearance of an additional Ootori could only mean that he was likely to be demoted, fired, or in some other way penalized for failing to meet expected growth.

 

“Kyoya-san has made a surprise inspection of your facility while you were here with me,” Ootori-sama explained.

 

“May I also introduce my date, Fujioka Haruhi-san,” Kyoya waited for the greeting bows to conclude, then pulled out a chair for Haruhi to sit. Once she was settled, he took his place next to her and resumed his business-like demeanor.

 

“For the most part, the facility is doing quite well. However, there were a few issues that should be addressed.

 

“The biggest problem that I noticed with the facility is with staffing. We arrived for an early dinner, the restaurant was quite empty at the time. Yet even when business began picking up, it was clear that there were too many people there and not enough tasks at hand. You're paying wages for people to stand around and wait for business that may or may not come.”

 

The manager stated, “But if we don't schedule the staff to work a certain amount of hours, they'll go down to part-time.”

 

“That would save even more money. Part-time employees aren't eligible for benefits packages,” Ootori-sama murmured.

 

“That might not be the best solution,” Haruhi stated. “You could lose some of your best workers by reducing their schedules. Many won't be able to continue working for you if their benefits packages are removed - they'll simply find work elsewhere.”

 

All three men turned to look at her. Two in surprise, one smirking softly.

 

“But you *could* kill two birds with one stone. I noticed that there was an excess of linens available for the dining room. And if there is excess there, it would most likely also be the case in the spa rooms as well. So redistribute tasks at non-peak hours - if the dining room is slow, the wait staff can be in charge of laundering the linens. This way, you also reduce the total number of linens you need to maintain on hand at the facility.”

 

“But the servers aren't trained for laundry…”

 

“When you advise that it's this solution or cutting hours, most of the staff should be willing to learn,” Kyoya vamped, adding onto Haruhi's comments. He had to admit, it was perfect. Although he had been a touch nervous when she began to speak out of turn, his instinct told him it would be best to let her continue. It always felt good to be right.

 

Nodding, Haruhi expanded on the thought, “The employees all seem very happy to work there, most won't want to look for another position so long as their most important needs are being met. Besides, laundry is not all that difficult to learn.”

 

The manager nodded his head vigorously. “Yes. That could work. And if we get a sudden rush of clients without reservations, we'd already have staff on hand to take care of them - they wouldn't have to wait.”

 

The senior Ootori nodded. “That's one solution. Next?” He turned to his son who smiled, his eyes flashing behind his glasses.

 

“Let's talk about in-house marketing for a bit…”

 

X

 

As they walked side by side, Kyoya couldn't help but smile.

 

Together, the two of them had pretty much found every little nuance that could be improved in the restaurant. He hadn't noticed Haruhi gathering information to assist at the meeting. Nor had he even imagined that she would contribute. But he should have known, she wasn't intimidated by anyone.

 

The meeting had ended well with the manager coming up with additional ideas that derived from their own suggestions about the restaurant, but applied to the other parts of the spa facility. It should soon be back on track to its expected profit margin for the year.

 

Ootori-sama had dismissed the manager and then thanked Kyoya and Haruhi both for their help, suggesting that it might be beneficial to the company as a whole to call on them again from time to time - if the situation allowed it, and if she were available to assist. He concluded by ordering them to return to the facility to dance and relax, and enjoy their date.

 

And that was the best reason to smile. First, because by ordering them on a date, his father had essentially given his blessing on their coupledom. And second - and more importantly - because she had only blushed slightly in response. She did not once state that it wasn't a date.

 

`And that means she wants it to be a date, too!' (Yeah right. She probably just didn't feel right correcting him.)

 

`Really? Well, she didn't seem to have any problem correcting him earlier tonight.' (Whatever. Either way, you know it's not a date. She's only here because of the whole wish thing.)

 

`Then I'll just have to sweep her off her feet dancing.' (She doesn't know how to dance. And besides, who cares if she thinks it's a date anyway. It's not like it's going to make a difference. I'll still get what we want in our third wish.)

 

`I want to win her.' (I will win her.)

 

`No. Completely.' (…)

 

His inner dialogue finished as they entered the ballroom of the facility and he turned to look at her. A few stray hairs had escaped her up-do, but these just made her look more real in her elegance. Who at Ouran - other than those in the club - could guess at the graceful beauty she hid underneath her boy's uniform? Glancing quickly about the room, he verified it: not one of the other women here could compare.

 

He bowed over her hand and inquired, “May I have this dance?”

 

 

 

 

Secondary Disclaimer: All characters in this story are at least 18 years of age. While that might seem unlikely - as three of the characters are only sophomores in high school, I figure it this way: if Bisco Hatori-san can ignore the students graduating for two years in a row and keep everyone in the same grade, I can then apply that logic to their ages. Therefore, Haruhi, Kaoru and Hikaru are just 18. Kyoya and Tamaki are about to turn 19. Mori is about to turn 20, and Huni already is 20. (Therefore, according to Japanese figuring, Huni is the only adult. :P )