The Billionaire and the Runaway Bride

by Nadia Lee

  No, not people. Just him. I’m never that aware of my surroundings when I play. Usually it’s the opposite. I lose myself in the music and the world shrinks down to the piano in front of me. But it was that mesmerizing stranger. His presence refused to let me fully immerse and escape into the piece. It pulled my attention to him, an irresistible magnetic attraction.

  I stop for a moment to catch my breath and pull myself together. I’m being stupid. So what if he has a perfectly sculpted face? It’s not going to solve my problem. Thinking about him isn’t going to get me a job, and I won’t have time to call him to hang out once I’m in L.A. He can’t help me with my situation, and I have no time to waste, now or in the future.

  I reach into my purse, pull out the card from Mr. Hottie and toss it into a trash bin without bothering to read it.

  Part of me rebels, telling me to go pull it out. But no. No way.

  I put in my EarPods and turn on some music. The third movement from Rachmaninoff’s second piano concerto comes up, booming in my ears.

  There. I can’t hear you, silly impulse!

  I inhale, bolster my determination to stick to the plan and walk the rest of the distance to my gate. One of the ground crew ladies smiles as she checks my passport and boarding pass. I lip-read, “Welcome aboard, Ms. Hae,” through the Rach.

  The walk down the bridgeway is overly warm in the early summer heat. But then I step through the door to the first-class cabin, find my seat and sit down in air-conditioned comfort. A smiling cabin attendant offers me a glass of welcome champagne, and I take it.

  Making it this far is an accomplishment, although Eugene could technically still stop the plane. My family’s impossibly well connected, too much so for my own good. But with just a little more luck…

  I down my champagne and fan myself, hoping to calm my nerves. Then it suddenly strikes me why I thought Mr. Hottie looked familiar.

  He’s the underwear model outside Eugene’s office window! The guy with the bulge! I didn’t recognize him at first because even though he looks amazing, just like the giant billboard, there’s a sizzling vitality to him in person that was missing in the 2D black-and-white image.

  I almost snort and laugh. Wouldn’t it be hilarious if I told Eugene I met and fell in love with the underwear dude outside his window? Not that I’d do that—Eugene might kill the poor guy. Eugene can be entirely too serious when he’s set his mind on something, and he’s dead set on having me marry one of the dossiers, in the dress Ms. Hong picked out, at the venue she reserved.

  After two more champagnes, the cabin crew finally shuts the door, and I take a quick selfie with my bubbly to mark the occasion.

  Independence, here I come!

  Chapter Five

  Yuna

  By the time I land and clear customs and immigration, it’s after four p.m. in Los Angeles. I step out into the arrival area and immediately spot Tony in the crowd. He’s more or less impossible to miss. Tall and handsome with thick black hair, he has a way of commanding attention, whether he’s in a hand-made European suit or a T-shirt and jeans, like now.

  I trot over and give him a hug. “Hey! So good to see you again.”

  “Same here. Welcome back to L.A.” His green eyes flick around, searching behind me. “Where’s the entourage?”

  “Oh, Ms. Kim and Mr. Choi? They’re gone.” I shrug, trying to hide the fact that I feel a little bereft, all the more so now that Tony has pointed them out as missing. It’s weird. I used to hate the fact that, as efficient and nice as they are, they reported all my moves to my mother. But now I wish they were with me. Talk about contrary.

  “I see,” Tony says, even though he doesn’t. He takes my suitcases. “Just these two?”

  “Couldn’t bring more. I only have two arms.” I sigh. “But my dad’s assistant is sending the rest to your address.”

  My phone buzzes, and… Right on time, it’s Mr. Park.

  “This is the tracking info for my stuff,” I say. “It should arrive sometime tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll tell the staff.” Tony grabs one of my suitcases and starts walking. “This way.”

  “You’re the best. Hey, where’s Ivy? Waiting in the car?”

  She probably doesn’t want to be standing around in airports now that she’s about to pop out a set of twins, a.k.a. my honorary nephew and niece. She’s due in six weeks.

  “She’s at home. Her feet and legs swelled up like crazy this morning.” Tony frowns as we walk toward his car.

  “What did Dr. Silverman say?” I ask. There’s no way Tony didn’t immediately drag Ivy out for a consultation. He’s paranoid about her health and safety.

  “Said it was normal.” His tone says that’s bullshit. He’d probably consider suing the doctor if it weren’t for the fact that she’s one of the most sought-after obstetricians in the country. “But I don’t know how normal feet can swell up that bad. She couldn’t even put on her shoes this morning.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine.” I try for a soothing tone, although I feel sorry for my poor friend. Ivy’s built a great shoe collection with lots of advice from me. I even helped her buy a few stylish flats she could wear during pregnancy because I saw how my sister-in-law’s feet turned into giant buns. It must be frustrating not to be able to wear any of the cute stuff we picked out together.

  “Yeah, hopefully.” Tony sounds a bit too grim. “Her back hurts a lot.”

  “My sister-in-law had the same thing, but it went away once she had the baby. Just make sure to keep Ivy off her feet and totally resting all the time. I’ll help.”

  Tony loads my suitcases into his silver Cullinan. I climb into the passenger seat and catch the start of Liszt’s “Mazeppa” coming through the speakers.

  “No Mozart?” I ask.

  “Ivy likes Liszt, and György Cziffra’s version is her favorite. And the twins seem to like it, too. They get really active when they hear it.”

  I grin. If you’re going to listen to “Mazeppa,” you might as well listen to the best. “Smart babies.”

  Tony maneuvers onto the freeway and drives us toward the huge mansion he built for Ivy. It doesn’t take long before the phone rings on the Bluetooth speakers and her voice comes through.

  “So you picked her up, right?”

  “Yeah, no problems,” Tony says.

  “Hi, Ivy!” I say.

  “Hey! I’m so happy you’re back in the States! Dying to catch up and talk about everything.”

  By “everything,” she means why I needed to ask her to buy me a ticket to L.A.

  “You won’t have to wait long,” Tony says. “We’re more than halfway home.”

  “Are you driving like a maniac?” Ivy’s tone is mildly chiding.

  “No. I’m driving like the very sane gentleman I am. See you soon.”

  “Love you.” Ivy makes exaggerated kissing noises, then hangs up.

  I laugh while Tony grins like he just won the lottery. I adore how much he loves her and how vulnerable he is to her. When I first met him in his office, he was cold and aloof. He’s still that way with a lot of people—most, even—but not Ivy.

  It’s just so sweet.

  The traffic isn’t too bad, for L.A. Soon enough, we drive past the gates to the mansion.

  I love the house. It’s chic and elegant without being ostentatious, although you’d have to be an idiot not to realize how much care and money went into the whole structure and the surrounding gardens.

  My favorite is the water garden. The pond is quite shallow, and done that way specifically because Ivy nearly drowned once. I think Ivy’s gotten over it, but Tony hasn’t. The fact that he gets more triggered than she does about it just goes to show how much he loves her.

  When he stops the Cullinan in front of the main entrance, I see other cars.

  “When did you buy all these?” I ask. “And wow, that’s a pretty Bugatti.”

  “They aren’t mine. The Bugatti’s Nate’s.”

  “He didn’t c
ome alone, did he?”

  Nate’s fun, but I’d love to see his wife, too. She’s also adorably pregnant at the moment.

  “Nope. Evie’s with him,” Tony says.

  I count the number of vehicles. Four.

  “Court, Edgar and Kim are here, too?” They’re the most likely suspects.

  “Yup. And Pascal, and Jo and Wyatt.”

  “They aren’t here because of me, are they?”

  I wonder if they made a special trip to hear my story. It’s so irritating that I’m in this ridiculous situation, and all because I don’t want to marry a corporate profile. It isn’t like me to have to borrow money for anything, much less literally flee a country.

  Damn Eugene.

  “Don’t worry. We were planning a group dinner anyway, and you happen to have arrived just in time. Everyone’s excited to see you again.” Tony takes my suitcases out of the car, and we head into the vast mansion.

  Tony hands my bags off to one of the staff, then takes me to the huge dining room. The table is already set up to entertain with lots of Thai food. A bright Mozart sonata comes from speakers at low volume. Women are seated next to their men, all of the latter dark, handsome and accomplished.

  And I’ll bet none of them thought about their women’s portfolio or market cap when they proposed, I think sourly. That makes them the world’s absolute best guys. Gives me hope that I’ll find someone like that who’s still single.

  Ivy spots me first and stands up, a hand at her back. Her strawberry-blond hair is pulled into a ponytail, and pleasure flushes her face.

  Before she can take a step, I rush over to hug her. Then I place air kisses on her cheeks and on her baby bump, one on each side, so both twins can get my love equally.

  “Oh my God! Ivy! You are glowing!” I say.

  She laughs. “Yeah, glowing like wet white bread dough.”

  “Hey, glowing is glowing. And that dress looks fantastic on you.”

  The empire style flatters her, and the purple chiffon is a good material, flowing over her like a waterfall.

  “Thanks. Jo helped me pick it out.”

  I hug the gorgeous brunette next, who is pregnant with Tony’s brother Edgar’s baby. She’s a fashion consultant and personal shopper, and I love her sense of style.

  “That sky-blue Armani is stunning on you,” I say.

  “Thanks.” Her eyes gleam. “If you want, we can go shopping.”

  She isn’t letting her own pregnancy get in the way of quality time together. Normally, I’d say yes with the exuberance that all good shopping excursions deserve. But right now, all I feel is minor depression. My poor, poor credit cards…

  “Maybe later.” After I show Eugene he’s wrong and get my accounts back. Or make enough money to buy them on my own.

  I hug Evie before she can get up from her seat because she’s also quite pregnant, although not as far along as Ivy.

  She smiles at me, pushing a few golden tendrils out of her face, the corners of her blue eyes crinkling. “Hello, Yuna.”

  “Hey, Evie. Looking good! All glowy and happy. Nate must be treating you like a queen.”

  “I have to or she’ll kick me out of the house. And then where am I gonna go?” Nate says. He handed over all his assets to his wife. I don’t know the details of why he did it, but that means Evie is the money person in the relationship now.

  Evie puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. “How could I kick out such a lovable husband?”

  “I know. I’m so sweet I make myself sick sometimes.”

  “Hey, I want a hug!” Kim says, coming over to put her arms around me.

  “Good to see you, former roomie.”

  Kim and Evie used to share an apartment, but after Evie moved out to be with Nate, I took her place for a while. Kim, unlike Ivy, Jo and Evie, is definitely not pregnant. And neither is Court’s fiancée Pascal, who has one of the best hugs in the world. All firm and warm, like she’ll never let go.

  Then I hug the guys—Court and Edgar…then Nate and Wyatt. I don’t know Wyatt that well, but everyone deserves a good hug.

  Once the greetings are done, we all sit down and start eating. Being among friends and enjoying delicious food is making me feel optimistic and relaxed. Eugene will never know the feeling because he doesn’t have friends like mine!

  Ivy turns to me after I have a few bites of pad thai. “Okay, so tell me what’s going on. What’s up with you needing me to get you a one-way ticket?”

  “A one-way ticket?” Court’s eyes go wide. “Wait, wait, back up. What happened?”

  “I called Ivy and asked her to buy me a one-way ticket to L.A.” Normally, it wouldn’t be something I’d say in front of an audience, but these are my friends, and most importantly, they’re discreet. No leaked video footage will be making its way to social media sites.

  Everyone stares in shock.

  Pascal says, “Okay, I totally want to ask if something’s going on at the Hae Min Group. But I’m not supposed to get any insider info.” She works for a huge private wealth management company, and her specialty is the Asian market. She probably doesn’t want to get in trouble for illegal trading.

  I wave her worry away. “It’s doing fine, just like the latest quarterly filing says.” Dad was so pleased that the company beat expectations. “And even if it weren’t, I wouldn’t be calling Ivy for a ticket.”

  “Why not?” Ivy looks like she’s mildly insulted. “You know you can always count on me.”

  “I know.”

  Ivy isn’t just a friend, she’s my soul sister. It’s like having a soul mate, but a sister. It’s limiting and frankly ridiculous to claim that only romantic relationships can involve soul mates. I’d die for Ivy, just like I’d die for my blood relatives. Except Eugene, because he’s on my shit-list at the moment.

  “So why wouldn’t you call?” Ivy asks.

  “Because there’s a saying in Korea that a rich person who goes bankrupt can still live like a king for three generations. And it’s true. We all have assets that aren’t tied to the company. Overseas real estate holdings, trusts. Sadly, I can’t access any of ours.” Otherwise I might’ve sold one. For spending cash.

  “Okay, but why did you need her to buy you a ticket?” Kim asks.

  I clench my plastic fork until the nails dig into my palm. “Because my brother’s a jerk!”

  “Is this the same brother who paid for the charter for those pies from Tokyo?” Jo asks.

  “Yeah. I only have one.”

  I take a deep breath and tell them everything as we eat. Everything, even how Eugene was petty enough to take away Ms. Kim and Mr. Choi.

  “But that’s a good thing, right? You said they were your mom’s spies,” Kim says. “You even bought clothes from Target to escape from them.”

  Jo takes a sudden and very deep inhalation. “You bought from Target?”

  “It wasn’t a Target,” I say quickly. “The store was more blue than red.”

  Jo’s horrified expression doesn’t go away. Court looks similarly shocked. Probably because he’s seen me drop over a hundred bucks on a couple of onesies for Ivy’s babies.

  “It was for a disguise,” I say. “And it worked.”

  Court shakes his head and tsks.

  “Just know that I like Ms. Kim and Mr. Choi when they’re not spying for my mom,” I say, slightly depressed. “And they kept the weirdos away, especially Mr. Choi. He has black belts in tae kwon do and judo. As soon as he was gone, I got hit on by a creepy loser in front of my condo building.” I scrape the last bit of food off my plate and put it in my mouth.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t try to napalm him,” Edgar says. His tone is serious, but then, Edgar Blackwood is a serious kind of guy with a serious voice. “I remember you looking up how to make it that one time.”

  I laugh. “Oh, shoot! I didn’t even think about that!” Then my current financial situation puts a damper on my mood, and my shoulders slump. “But even if I had, I wouldn’t have been able to
afford the gasoline. I don’t have enough cash, and gasoline’s crazy expensive in Korea, especially the high-grade stuff.”

  “I’m sure any gas would be explosive enough for your purpose,” Tony murmurs, looking like he wants to serve me some alcohol.

  But I’m not drinking with all these pregnant women around. It’s not fair.

  “Okay, so you have to get a job to show your brother he’s wrong,” Ivy says.

  “Not just any job, but a job that pays well enough that I can afford a decent lifestyle,” I add. “I just have to figure out exactly what that’s going to be. Probably something dignified.”

  “And to make sure you don’t have to marry a dossier,” Evie says.

  Nate looks around the table. “We can get you a job, no problem. The foundation is set for the year, but Sterling & Wilson always has openings. Or I can just create one for your experience and skills.”

  I smile with appreciation. Nate wouldn’t be Nate if he wasn’t willing to help his friends. But…that’s not the bet.

  “You can’t.” I sigh. “Eugene’s not stupid. I can’t get a pity job from a friend.”

  “But I don’t pity you,” Nate says, spreading his hands. “So it can’t be a pity job.”

  “Besides, who here would be dumb enough to pity you?” Tony asks.

  “You’d napalm the fool,” Kim says.

  “I get it,” I say. “Nobody pities me. But I have to prove myself fair and square. It's kind of a matter of honor.”

  What Eugene said about me not doing my responsibility while enjoying the fruits of my family’s business dealings has been bugging me a bit. And if I cheat, it’s only going to show that he was right—that I’m just an irresponsible and selfish chaebol heiress.

  “Do you know if your boss is hiring, Kim?” Wyatt turns to me. “That wouldn’t be cheating, right? Everyone uses their network to find jobs.”

  “Yeah, that’s acceptable.”