It took nine hours and thirty-four minutes to finalize everything, but [Name] had succeeded; everything was ready for the event. That left her only an hour and a half to get ready, which she didn't realize she'd have to do. The chefs aren't normally invited to the events, so it was only natural for her to assume she wouldn't have to attend on the front end. Well, that, plus the minor fact that she's there against her will. Aren't they concerned she might make a scene?
Jora was waiting for her, already dressed in a large ball gown which dazzled shades of blue, green, yellow and pink. Her hair was drawn up into a large bun, and large mis-matched earrings hung from her ears. She looked... Well, like Jora. It could have been the stress, or the fact that she had spent all day running on only a few hours of sleep, but [Name] couldn't help but feel a ball of tightness swell in her chest as she was led up the penthouse. She ignored Jora's rant about her art, only briefly listening to Jora informing her of the outfit that had been chosen for her. By Doflamingo nonetheless.
Does that mean he'll be upstairs? Her chest tightened for another reason. All day she'd successfully avoided the man, and she didn't want to run into him now. But when she opened the door, she was relieved, because instead of an impossibly tall blonde male, there were two average-sized women with curly red hair. They both smiled a tight smile, one which [Name] mirrored. "Hello, we were hired to help with your hair and make-up," the one in the white dress spoke. The other was wearing a green romper, and if it weren't for the different clothing [Name] wouldn't have been able to differentiate the two. "Please sit down here," as in, in the middle of Doflamingo's room. She hesitated, which the two women pretended not to notice, before eventually obeying. [Name] wasn't sure how long the entire process had taken, but no one in the room spoke. It had been so quiet that when the one in white said "what do you think?" [Name] jumped. Her large [e/c] eyes were reflected in a handheld mirror seconds later.
"Oh my gosh!" Her thick eyelashes fluttered as she examined the beautiful work that had been done; her eyeliner was sharp, her lips ruby red, and her complexion looked flawless. And her hair. It was swept into a beautiful up-do, with a little pink flower tucked above her ear. "This is amazing, you guys are so good!" Red dusted the green girl's cheeks, while the other smiled politely.
"We'll be leaving now, he should be back any minute."
"We were told to inform you that your outfit is in the other room there."
[Name], too absorbed with the gorgeous makeover, didn't register the word until the twins were nearly out the door. "Wait! He?" That could only mean one person. One of the girls said something behind the now-sealed door, and a deep voice replied. She'd only been at the palace for a couple days, but [Name] could already distinguish that deep voice from anyone else's. Without thinking she darted into her own room, quickly sealing the door behind herself.
The main bedroom door opened only seconds after. Her heart hammered.
Fufufufu~
"Almost done, my pet?"
She jumped away from the door a hand reflexively raised as she stared towards the door separating them. The newspaper article flashed in her mind, while her eyes stared at the door handle, half expecting to see it turn and open. But it didn't. So she sat on the bed, letting out a breath of relief pass. "Almost."
He didn't respond, and her stomach started to settle. Good. After she was certain he wouldn't barge in, she turned to the dress that was laid out beside her, heels on the ground to match. She slowly started to change, again impressed that it fit. Perfectly. The heels technically fit, but she could already tell that within an hour she'd be dying to take them off, the edges unforgivably stiff. She folded the smooth material down, readying herself.
The door opened with the smallest click, and the tall male looked towards his new pastry chef. His jaw clenched, eyes wandering the [colour] material that hugged her curves so well. The twins did their job well, but his choice of clothing had never faltered. He knew how to perfectly sculpt a woman. "Ah, before I forget," [Name] noticeably tensed as he advanced, a rectangular black box in his hand. It clicked open, revealing a delicate lacey mask, adorn at the top right corner with two deep pink feathers. She blinked once, twice. It's a masquerade? Unmoving, she allowed the man to reach down and secure it in place, it's grooves covering only her eyes and cheekbones. It's feathers gently rested above the flower, the look somehow becoming complete. She stood with her chin slightly dipped, dark lashes hiding her [c/e] eyes, avoiding him. He licked his lips, savouring the timid posture and mannerisms in the back of his mind.
"Now that you look like this, I wouldn't mind having you on my arm tonight," her eyes shot up, eyes suddenly blazing; ah. His canines flashed. "lets hope your pastries are as delicious as that expression," he raised his arm, "shall we?"
~ ~ ~
The entire night was not what [Name] had expected in the least. She had expected to go to the same hall that she was previously in, where the party was hosted for the local businesses. Instead, she was brought to a large room that was tucked away behind a wall, marked by a large abstract painting. If the hidden entrance wasn't an indication of illegal activity... Then walking into a large dimly lit room, guarded with armed security certainly was. Everyone wore their own mask, and it didn't take too much thought for [Name] to understand why. People walked around, most trailed by their own personal guard, wearing attire that was obviously expensive. The men had custom suits and careless attitudes, while the women had extravagant jewelry and a whole other level of confidence. It only made sense that if so many people of power were involved in the same room, attending a less than legal event, they wouldn't want their identities so easily known. Hence, a masquerade.
Despite the disgust she felt in wearing something that such an evil man had chosen for her, she felt slightly thankful to be dressed so extravagantly. She would have painfully stood out if she had worn one of the dresses stuffed into her closet back at home.
However, with her arm looped with Doflamingo's, it seemed she stood out regardless. Despite the pink mask he wore it would obvious who he was. Eyes immediately turned to them as they walked in, and [Name] fought the urge to hide behind the man she walked with.
"Ah, Doflamingo! I heard you have some interesting items this year," a middle-aged man walked towards them, cigar burning between his thick fingers. [Name] couldn't help but think 'mobster' as she looked at his slicked back hair, a simple black mask and a large golden chain. A pretty little woman was at his side, her eyes obviously eating up the sight that was Doflamingo.
"Have I ever had a disappointing auction?" The tall man mused, "but lets just say that this will certainly be a year to remember. My family went through extra trouble finding some of the items."
"Is that so? Well in that case maybe I shouldn't have spent so much money on this dime," [Name's] eyes narrowed as the man gestured to the woman at his side. The woman's lips formed a smile, the faintest laugh. Fake. "Ah, it's just a joke my love, you know you're the only woman I see." Almost immediately after his eyes glided towards [Name], eyes trailing down her exposed frame. Lies.
"Who's this young lady here?" Doflamingo's large hand found it's way to her waist, causing every part of her to stiffen.
"This is our newest pastry chef, [Name]." She forced her lips into a polite smile. He flashed a greasy smile, eyes continuing to wander.
"I've always had a sweet tooth..." He licked his lips, and [Name's] polite smile dropped, disgusted. But before she could allow the snarky response to roll off her tongue, Doflamingo stepped forward.
"Hopefully it's the pastries you're thinking about, Mr. Moretti. I'd hate for you to miss the auction over your lack of self control." Although spoken light-heartedly, the warning was obvious. 'Mr.Moretti' visibly retreated, as if just realizing his own actions. A dangerous smirk formed on the blonde's lips. "We'll take our leave now, come on darling." This time she allowed the enormous man to lead, fighting a smug smirk. Ohh, how satisfying was that.
Forgetting herself, she looked up to Doflamingo, [e/c] eyes shining through dark lashes. "Thank you," his grip on her twitched, his lips ghosting that smirk.
"I can't have these people thinking they can take what's mine, now can I?" Without her consent, her cheeks heated with a pale pink. She hated the possessiveness, but she couldn't help but feel grateful to know he wouldn't let her get mistreated by one of his scum guests. Feeling slightly more confident, she allowed him to lead her to the next guest.
They met many more guests, each name and conversation blending together.
"Oh and who's this young woman with you tonight?"
"Oh, Dolflamingo, you're as handsome as ever~ I hope that my company will be hearing from you soon?"
"I hope to see some more enticing items this year~"
"So, what should we be expecting from you tonight? Which musician did you somehow manage?"
Finally, [Name's] interest was piqued. "Jora managed to convince Kanna Takahashi-"
"The pianist?!" [Name's] suddenly involvement obviously took the tall man by surprise. His bored expression lit the slightest, eyes falling down towards her. His lips curled into a sly grin, "Yes, the renown pianist."
The masked man across from them smiled, "oh, I love her voice. I'm surprised Jora was able to get her to commit; she rarely performs for private events."
Doflamingo's sly grin didn't waver as he said "well, we didn't give her the opportunity to decline."
And that was the end of that conversation.
After what felt like hours, and after her feet felt raw (as predicted), she finally found a chance to escape. They opened the doors to a room adjacent to the 'lounge', which [Name] assumed was where the banquet would be held. Some of the guests started to filter in, and [Name's] eyes lingered at the recently opened door, wanting to stop talking to these awful people. She felt a tug at her arm, a smile forming to see the tall, very colourful woman she'd seen only hours before. Jora was her saviour, somehow silently whisking her away from Doflamingo to go join the rest of the 'family' in the other room, while Doflamingo stayed to continue a conversation with an extremely wealthy book keeper (what he really did, she didn't want to know). "How are your feet my dear?"
[Name] flashed a small smile, slightly embarrassed. "Am I starting to limp?"
"Just a little." As predicted, the other room was full of round tables, save for the single long table at the head of the room, slightly raised above the rest. Some of the family members were already sitting there, their bored expressions showing through their masks. [Name] blinked, just noticing the pink feathers adorned to their masks. Just like the one on her own. Jora led her to the long table, motioning her to take the end seat. "You'll sit right between me and Senior Pink." The man was already sitting there, wearing a... diaper?
[Name's] gaze glossed over as she awkwardly trailed her gaze forward, not bothering to ask. Alrighty then! The room started to fill up, everyone finding their assigned seats. Beside Senior Pink was Machvise, followed by Sugar, Diamante, Lao G, Dellinger, and Pica. On the other side of Jora sat Trebol, a string of snot dangling from his nose. In the middle, between Sugar and Diamante, sat a larger, empty chair. A throne, might be the more proper word for it... I wonder which family member feels most entitled to a throne? Despite her annoyance, she was surprised to notice that Doflamingo would be sitting so far away; as his date, she expected to be stuck to his side the entire night.
I guess not.
Not that I'm disappointed or anything!
Everyone suddenly stood, [Name] following a few heart beats later, as that same man walked in, mask covering his face, a smirk etched onto his visible lips. She hated to admit it, but Doflamingo just oozed power. As he took his 'throne', before her own mind could stop itself, she thought 'it's suiting, though.'
As he sat, the doors on the far wall opened up, waiters streaming in with hot plates, their own faces covered with simple black masks. [Name] glanced at Machvise, who seemed to be calmly waiting for his own meal to be delivered, not a hint of nerves showing. She couldn't fathom how he felt so calm when so many people were about to try his own creations. That must reflect the difference in their experience.
A couple waiters arrived at the table, and [Name] found herself eagerly awaiting her meal. She'd tasted the testers Milo had assisted her with (along with willing cooks, of course), and despite the stress that accompanied her as she studied his dishes, she couldn't help but be excited. It's obvious the man knows his food, maybe even more than [Name] knows desserts. They received the appetizer, and to no ones surprise, it was delicious.
"Ugh, why're there so many vegetables?" someone groaned, amongst the Donquixote family.
"Machvise I thought you were going to try more garlic this time?"
The chef easily allowed these criticisms to roll off, a large smile plastered onto his lips.
"These are the Young Master's favourites, so all that matters is that he likes it, iin."
The family's conversations continued into the next course, which was equally as delicious. [Name] focused on the members around her, listening to them talk and exchange banter. At some point the young woman started to fall into the routine, occasionally feeling brave enough to insert herself into their conversations.
Becoming so involved, [Name] never felt the occasional lingering gaze, concealed behind a tinted mask. She wasn't aware of that man's stare until she noticed the waiters now bringing in small, delicate plates. Adorning her very own pastries.
Immediately, her gaze snapped towards Doflamingo, startled to see the man already staring at her. Her heartbeat started to race.
If you can satisfy me, then fine. You will be allowed to work in your own kitchen.
So much is riding on this small, little dish. Her palms grew sweaty as she looked forward, her own creation getting plated right in front of her. She swallowed... Then blinked, noticing the white gloved and that lingered, gently grazing the rim of the plate. [e/c] eyes trailed up, surprised to meet a pair of deep brown ones. After hours of talking, [Name] would recognize that innocent gleam anywhere!
"Milo?"
The waiter flashed the briefest smile, sending her a playful wink. Before he could draw too much attention, the boy quickly left, but not without leaving his mark. [Name's] cheeks showed the slightest bit of colour, her pupils trailing his leaving figure. She'd have to remind herself to thank him later, acknowledging the weight that lifted off of her chest.
"Well," she cleared her throat, capturing the attention of those around her, "please enjoy my baking!"
As the family started to carefully eat what was presented before them, Doflamingo watched. But it wasn't his family's reactions his eyes were scanning, no, it was that waiter that walked away from [Name]. His jaw was set as the boy left the room, his pace a little too light after his interaction with the pastry chef.
Darkened eyes trailed back to the small woman, who sat further away than the man would like. It was all subtle things; that light hue on her cheeks, the small wink the waiter had flashed- but Doflamingo is nothing but perceptive.
He looked towards the small plate in front of him, eyeing the three items on it. One, a small puff pastry, lightly sprinkled with powdered sugar. The second, a dark tart- plumb, perhaps? The last was a small square-sliced of cake, exposing it's multilayers. A variety of options is smart, especially with the many family members who must approve.
Gladius had informed him, on the night of Baby 5's attack, that [Name] had stayed late to taste the wines, her purpose to pair them with here pastries. The care she showed, and the hours she'd spent in her own apparently "run-down" kitchen, led Doflamingo to feel impressed. She must really want to leave his grasp.
However....
His fork dug into the cake first, it's ends easily piercing the moist sponge... He raised it to his mouth, expression void of emotion. He wanted to hate it, to have something be wrong with her mixing or baking. Even if it negatively impacted his event, he wanted her to fail. Because above anything else... Even his own reputation....
Doflamingo hates to share HIS things.