Finding Unity

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Finding Unity Page 8

by Ripley Proserpina


  It was all the encouragement he needed. With one firm push, he was seated in her as far as he could go.

  He placed his hand on her lower belly, holding her in place while he withdrew and thrust again.

  Nora gripped his neck with one hand and the pillow with the other. Each time he withdrew, she countered the thrust. Soon the only sound in the room was the wet slap of their skin.

  Ryan moved his hand even lower until he could put pressure on her clit. The warmth and weight of his palm had her tumbling over the edge. He hissed a breath between his teeth, and then he followed.

  Pulling her leg over his hips, Nora concentrated on breathing. This man. This beautiful, talented, steady man was hers.

  As if his mind traveled along similar lines Ryan kissed the side of her neck and whispered, “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

  He entwined their fingers before sweeping the blankets back and pulling her out of bed. “Shower. And then maybe you’ll let me get some sleep?” A half-smile was on his face as he stepped into a beam of moonlight. Naked, he was something to look at.

  “Doubt it,” she answered, but he only chuckled.

  “Come on.”

  Chapter 17

  Seok

  Whenever he couldn’t sleep, Seok ended up in his workshop. Usually, he kept it pristine, but after the break-in before Christmas, he had a lot of furniture to fix. As a result, his tools lay where he left them, just waiting for him to continue.

  He’d fixed bookshelves and side tables, end tables, chairs. Apollo had gotten in on the work, too, and had fixed one of the bookends he’d smashed.

  Seok kept it on the shelf as a reminder for him to stay in control. He still hadn’t made Nora anything to make up for being an asshole when they first met, and he definitely owed her.

  Funny how, after six months, he needed to fill that hole.

  For the past three hours, he’d sat in an old camp chair and stared at that one bookend, wondering if he’d lost the opportunity.

  The basement door opened and someone came padding down.

  As soon as he saw the fluffy slippers, he smiled and got out of the chair.

  “Hey.” Nora had that just woken up look. He’d never tell her this, but her face was adorably puffy. Her lips, beneath her eyes. He’d slept with her enough to know she usually fell asleep face-first in her pillow, spread out like a starfish.

  Her cheeks were rosy and her hair a mess of curls, but there was no one as beautiful as her.

  “Here.” She held out a mug of coffee for him and then settled herself on the lower stairs. “What are you working on?”

  “Nothing,” he answered, gaze going to the bookend.

  She followed the direction of his gaze. “What is that? A globe?”

  “Half a bookend,” he replied, taking a sip. Matisse must have made the coffee this morning because it was fucking gourmet. The others tended to use the regular machine, but Tisse took the time to do a French press, or, lately, something he called a pour-over.

  “Why only half?” she asked.

  “Because I smashed the other half.”

  He thought she’d react to that, but she didn’t, only lifted her eyebrows and blew across the top of her mug.

  “It was for you.” He took too big a sip and choked. Nora put her mug aside and hurried to him to rub circles on his back like he was a baby.

  “That was nice of you. So why did you smash it?”

  “You were in the hospital, and I’d just heard from my father. I lost it.” He had so much to tell her and he had no idea where to start.

  “You put a lot of pressure on yourself.” She left him to approach the bookend. It was higher than she was tall, so he put his coffee away and got it down for her. “I love it. If I use the wall, it will still work.” She ran her hand over the globe and picked at a spot of glue.

  “It’s not finished.” He placed it on his worktable. Apollo had done a pretty good job, but it still needed to be sanded, stained, and varnished.

  “I kind of like it like this.” She bent over a little, peering at it. “Look, there’s a thumbprint.”

  Sure enough, Apollo had smooshed the glue into a crack with his big, old thumb. “Apollo tried to fix it.”

  Placing her mug next to his, she sucked in a breath. When she picked it up to bring it into the light, he made a move to grab it, but she yanked it away. “Hands off. It’s mine.” Pausing, she glanced over his shoulder. “Right?”

  “I don’t know why you’d want it.”

  “Because you made it for me, doofus. And then Apollo helped fix it. I want it. Can I have it?”

  It wasn’t what he meant to give her, but with her shining eyes and happy smile, how could he say no? “It’s yours.”

  “Good.” She stuffed it under her arm and picked up her coffee. “Now, what else are you working on?”

  He lifted his mug to his lips and took a sip, turning in a slow circle to study his various projects. There was a door over in the corner that he’d rescued from a demolition his company was doing. It would take the place of the door that Dr. Murray’s goons had kicked in, and the run-of-the-mill replacement from Home Depot he’d put up in the meantime.

  He pointed with his pinky. “Want to work on the door with me?”

  Following his gaze, she narrowed her eyes at the unimpressive but heavy as hell oak door. “Yes,” she replied, and then peered over her shoulder at him and winked. “I’m great with wood.”

  The phone rang upstairs and Nora stood, flipped off the switch on the sander, and stretched. Her back, shoulders, and forearms were killing her from sanding. Being short sucked. She couldn’t reach the middle of the door where she needed to sand, so she was almost lying across it. Her shirt was covered in sawdust, as were the tops of her pants.

  Lifting the goggles from her head, she cocked her head, listening as footsteps stomped across the floor. The basement door opened, and Apollo came down a few steps. “Nora? Phone’s for you.”

  Seok had stopped what he was doing, sanding the rust off an old doorknob by hand, and frowned. “Who is it?”

  Apollo glanced over his shoulder. “It’s Lucy Merrill.”

  Nora was half-expecting her call. It seemed inevitable that there would be some follow-up needed after the story aired last night.

  Pulling her goggles off, she trudged upstairs to the landline in the kitchen. “Hello?”

  “Hi Nora. It’s Lucy.” Her voice gave nothing away.

  “Hi,” she replied, “what’s up?”

  “I just wanted to fill you in on some of the feedback I’ve been getting after last night, just so you’re prepared, because I’m certain you’re going to be contacted by other news outlets.”

  Her heart sank. Placing the goggles on the counter, she sighed. “Hit me.”

  Lucy chuckled. “Well, overall it’s been positive. Not surprisingly—to me at least—the story was picked up by the AP and is being run nationally. I had an interview this morning with National Public Radio, and I got a request for Good Morning America tomorrow. They want to talk to you as well.”

  “No, thanks.” She’d spoken with Lucy—that was as much publicity as she’d do.

  “I figured as much, but they’ll be calling you.” As if her words caused it to happen, her phone beeped at her, an alert that she had another call.

  “Great.”

  “I told them I didn’t think you’d be interested, but I’m sure they want to hear that for themselves.”

  Nora rubbed her forehead, sensing a headache coming on. “Gotcha.”

  It was silent on the other end of the line for a moment. “The story was picked up by other news agencies as well. Some of which have more political leanings—and they’re looking for sound bites. That coverage is… less than flattering. I wanted to warn you. I think you’ll hear from them as well.”

  She could only imagine. “What sort of things should I be prepared for?”

  “The worst-case scenario things we spoke about. Intrusive i
nvestigation into your past. Interviews with people who claim to know you well but you probably haven’t spoken to in years.”

  My mom. The thought occurred to her and bam—full on headache. “Okay, Lucy. Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart.” Lucy’s tone was warm and apologetic.

  “No need to apologize,” she replied. This was bound to happen. Hope for the best while preparing for the worst.

  “I’ll call you later to check in.”

  Nora said goodbye, but her mind was already revisiting all the reasons why she had agreed to the initial interview. This was a good thing. She had to remind herself of that fact. It got attention focused on something bad that was happening, and made it less likely to happen again. Right?

  She hung up the phone and turned around, startling when she found four of the five guys sitting at the table, watching her.

  “What did she say?” Apollo asked. His knee bounced beneath the table, and he ran his hand over his hair. “Is it bad?”

  Shaking her head, she went to him and sat on his lap. Immediately his arms came around her and he kissed her neck. “Not too bad. NPR and Good Morning America want an interview, but also probably some yell-y talking head who’ll want to call me a traitor to the country, so…” She shrugged. “What can you do?”

  Ryan sat back, crossing his arms. “All stuff we talked about ahead of time.”

  “True,” Seok agreed. “Doesn’t mean we didn’t hope it would happen.”

  The phone rang again, and Nora sighed. “We might want to get an unlisted number.”

  “This number is unlisted,” Matisse muttered.

  Apollo squeezed her waist, but she tapped his arm, indicating he should let her get the phone. “It’s probably for me, anyway.”

  As the guys discussed the pros and cons of the attention she was getting, she made her way to the phone. “Hello?”

  There was an odd click on the other end and a pause.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes, hello,” an accented voice said. The person on the other end was male, but she couldn’t place him. “I’m calling for Seok Jheon.”

  Strange. “May I ask who’s calling?”

  She turned, twirling the cord around one finger and lifted her eyebrows when Seok met her gaze. “For you,” she mouthed.

  He stood, coming toward her as the man on the other end answered. “His father.”

  Chapter 18

  Seok

  Nora’s eyes widened. “Just a moment,” she said, covering the microphone with her hand. “It’s your father.”

  Seok’s stomach dropped. He seriously considered not answering the phone, but he’d already ignored three phone calls and two separate emails. Might as well get this over with.

  Taking the phone from her, he turned his back to the kitchen and shut his eyes. “Hello, Father.”

  “Seok. Have you not received my messages?”

  He couldn’t have this conversation in front of Nora and his friends. It wasn’t that they didn’t know about everything, it was just, he didn’t like the person he turned into when his father was involved. It was as if the moment he heard his father’s voice, he became a teenager, living under Father’s rules.

  He wasn’t that anymore. He was self-sufficient. He had a job, a house. He’d traveled thousands of miles and made his own life. Nothing his father could say or do really had any effect on his life.

  “I have,” he replied. “I have had other responsibilities.”

  And across those thousands of miles, his father made a sound that told Seok just what he thought of his other responsibilities. There was no duty higher than the one Seok had to his family’s business.

  “I—” Father began, but he cut him off.

  “I will call you right back on my cell. Give me two minutes.”

  With a sigh, his father’s disappointment blasted across the ocean and an entire continent. “Two minutes, Seok.” He hung up.

  No doubt his father would check his watch to allow him not more than those two minutes to return the call.

  Turning, he lifted his gaze to his friends. “I need to call him back.”

  “We know, Seok.” Matisse’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  “I don’t want to have this discussion in front of everyone, Tisse.”

  Shaking his head, Matisse grinned. “You were speaking in Korean. None of us understood a word you said.”

  He rubbed his hands down the sides of his jeans. Switching from one language to another happened as easily as breathing, and he hadn’t even realized he’d been doing it. Still—it was about more than the words he said. It was about what his father’s voice did to him.

  “I can keep you company?” Nora offered.

  “No, thank you.” He tried to speak kindly, but from the frown Apollo and Matisse wore, it wasn’t soft enough. “I need to talk to him alone. Get it all out, you know?”

  Their frowns faded and each of them nodded. Nora sat back in Apollo’s lap. “It’s fine.”

  He grimaced, and she laughed. “No, really. It is fine. I’m going to be coming up to check on you, so you’ll have to spill later. Fair warning.”

  And just like that, he felt a million times better. It was hard for him to give himself permission to do what he needed to do. Always he thought about what he should do, but doing that just made him bitter.

  He smiled at her, glanced at his friends, and left, almost sprinting upstairs to the third floor. His cell phone was on the bed and when he lifted it, he saw he’d missed another call from his father, received early this morning.

  He dialed the number, listening to the melodic tone of the international ring. “Seok.”

  “Hello, Father.”

  “I need your answer.” Wow. No warmup, no greeting, no pleasantries. Just right to the heart of it.

  “I—”

  “Your family needs you, Seok.”

  He shut his mouth with a snap. Of all the responses he expected… Had his father ever told him he needed him before?

  No.

  His father demanded. He expected. But needed? That suggested some kind of emotion was attached.

  He’d had his response ready to go. A concise explanation of his work here in the States and his responsibilities, and that was it. Was it what his father would want? Absolutely, not, but it was what he’d get. Jheon Imports would have a board of directors without the Jheon last name.

  And then his father uttered the word that he had expected. “It’s your responsibility.”

  “I have responsibilities here. I have a good job. I’ve made a name for myself, and I’m respected.” He shut his eyes. Shit. That was the wrong thing to say.

  “Respected. Jheon Imports is respected. Despite your brother. Despite our humiliation. You will humiliate me further by refusing to take leadership.” His father spoke faster, louder. “I allowed you to move to Montreal after everything. I allowed you a role in the business you did no work to earn.”

  “I’ve still done nothing to earn that title, Father.”

  It was as if he hadn’t heard Seok at all. “You took advantage of that position to move to America. You think I don’t know about your citizenship?”

  “I never hid that.” It had been easier to apply for a visa from Montreal and then go through the process of job hunting, but he hadn’t used the job for that purpose. When he’d initially moved to Montreal, his only thought had been to put space between him and his father and everything that had happened in Seoul.

  “You are my son,” Father said, as if that was all that needed to be said. Once, maybe it would have been enough, but for Seok, it didn’t hold the power to cow him anymore.

  Nineteen Years Old

  Father was yelling.

  Seok woke up the morning after the press conferences, and the first thing he heard was Father’s voice booming down the hall.

  Rubbing his eyes, he took his time getting out of bed. The yelling was new, but there was no way he was jumping into action to
see what was going on. He could guess.

  After returning home, he’d done a quick internet search and found Baek’s apology had gone down about as well as he expected.

  Overall, the public had decided Baek was a: not sorry, and b: a spoiled, little rich boy. There were a number of photos zoomed to display his watch, which Seok learned was about as expensive as the one he’d showcased on social media before all of this had happened.

  What was Baek thinking?

  As he went through his morning routine, his anger grew. The only thing his father had expected was that Baek make an apology. Fuck. Could he get nothing right?

  He left his room and found the house quiet. Baek’s door was open, which surprised him, so he went to it, knocking on the frame. “Baek?”

  “Yeah?”

  His brother’s voice was muffled and nasal. Seok went inside, wincing at the strong odor of alcohol and sweat that permeated the place. “What’s going on?”

  Searching the room, he eventually located Baek on the balcony overlooking their neighborhood. In the same clothes as yesterday, with messy hair and his phone in his hand, Baek had obviously not slept. Or if he had, it had been in the chair were he now sat.

  “Father wake you up?”

  Seok pulled a chair closer, glad for the strong wind blowing his brother’s scent away from him. “I heard him.”

  “He’s very disappointed.” Baek reached for a glass next to the chair and took a sip.

  “Is that alcohol?”

  “What do you care?” He took another sip. “You haven’t even opened the door since you came back from Vancouver.”

  “Because I’ve had shit to do. Do you have an issue with me?”

  “Do I have an issue with you?” Baek pitched his voice higher. “Of course not. How could anyone have an issue with perfect Seok? The son who doesn’t disappoint his family. The one everyone counts on. Do you know how exhausting it is to be related to you?”

  His heart pounded in his ears. Surely, his brother wasn’t serious. Surely, he wasn’t complaining about Seok’s behavior. “Do you have any idea what you did? I missed my final year of school because of you. Father dragged me back here, and I had to take my exams in my room. I had to apologize to the entire nation for something I didn’t do, Baek. My face is plastered over the news along with yours, but you’re the fucking idiot who embezzled money! You’re the asshole who took my trust to hide what you did, and you’re the fool who made the shittiest apology in the history of apologies all while wearing a two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar watch! Like it was all a fucking joke! Fuck you, Baek. It’s exhausting being related to me? Fuck you.”

 

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