The Billionaire and the Runaway Bride

by Nadia Lee

  How could I say no?

  –Court: Why Uber?

  –Me: I’m at the Aylster right now.

  –Edgar: How did you get there?

  –Me: Tony dropped me off.

  –Nate: Can he pick you up? Or I will.

  –Court: No need, I’m already downtown. Half an hour or less?

  –Me: You’re the best! Thank you!

  An email from Benedict lands in my inbox with a link to the nondisclosure agreement. I take a plush armchair with a view of the front entrance and read over the NDA, glancing outside every so often to check for Court’s car.

  The document seems pretty straightforward, but what do I know about American contracts? Is there a gotcha? Maybe I should have Hae Min’s in-house counsel review it to make sure—

  But of course I can’t.

  Accepting a job is more complicated than I realized. What if the document’s really asking for my ovaries and kidneys? I doubt “I don’t speak legalese” would be an acceptable defense in court.

  On the other hand, Declan said no work without it. Ah, well. Fine. I’ll sign it, and if there’s a problem, have the Hae Min legal team handle it. It’s why they make the big bucks.

  I initial every page and sign the document electronically. As I put away my phone, a familiar Maserati pulls up and stops. I trot out and jump inside the car.

  “Thank you,” I say to Court.

  “My pleasure.” He gives me an easy grin. “Besides, it makes Ivy happy. And when she’s happy, Tony’s happy. And that makes me happy.”

  “And it makes me happy, too.”

  “That, too.”

  He maneuvers through the late-afternoon traffic, which is crappy. I swear, every hour of Los Angeles can be labeled as rush hour, bad traffic, terrible traffic and horrific traffic. Or maybe I’m just unlucky because the cars are crawling like a horde of crippled centipedes. Probably an accident up ahead, since it isn’t raining.

  “We really should get you a car,” Court says after a moment.

  “Don’t like giving me rides?” I tease.

  He gives me a look. “Of course I like giving you rides. It’s just that you basically can’t exist in L.A. without a vehicle of some kind.” He drums his fingertips on the steering wheel. “Tony has a couple extra cars. But if you don’t like Mercedes or Audi, Nate has a garage full of fancy-pants rides.”

  I’ve never seen Nate’s collection, but apparently it’s the envy of many. Well…technically, it’s Evie’s collection now, but she lets him play with his toys. I think it’s adorable and awesome, especially since it could only happen because they love and trust each other. My brother would rather jump off a bridge into the Han River than sign over a used washcloth to his wife.

  “I appreciate the offer,” I say. “But I don’t drive.”

  “Huh?” Court looks absolutely amazed. “You don’t? You never got a license?”

  I laugh at the reaction. “I did, when I was twenty. But it’s kind of a…how do you say it in English? A drawer license?”

  Court gives me a skeptical squint. “I don’t think so. What’s a drawer license?”

  “It’s what Koreans call a driver’s license you hardly ever use. Like you just keep it in a drawer. A lot of Koreans don’t drive much because we have pretty good public transport.”

  “Do you ride the subway in Seoul?” he asks. “Because I’ve seen clips on YouTube about how crowded they get during certain times of the day.”

  “Oh, no, never! It isn’t a matter of convenience, it’s personal safety. Seoul has a low crime rate, considering its size, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any criminals or perverts.”

  “Ah. Yeah, I heard that groping sometimes happens on the trains over there.”

  I sigh. “Yup.” It’s embarrassing how some perverts ruin the national image with their sexually inappropriate fingers, especially when that stuff gets posted on social media and YouTube. A public flogging would be too good for them.

  Court winces. “I don’t want to imagine what your bodyguards do to people who try to grab your butt.”

  “Rip the guy’s arm off and beat him to death with it.” I can just see Mr. Choi doing that. “But anyway, I never had to drive because I always had a chauffeur.”

  “So why’d you get the license?”

  “To have one, of course.”

  Court looks like he doesn’t get it, but I don’t care. Most Americans don’t understand it because everyone drives in the U.S. The sheer distances involved make it hard to even go grocery shopping without a car in a lot of areas. Seoul is much more centralized.

  But I generally had my food delivered, and my parents’ housekeeper came by every week to make me delicious banchan dishes with vegetables, beans and dried fish. I sigh, already missing them. Korean grocery stores in L.A. carry some pre-made versions, but they aren’t the same. My parents’ housekeeper knows exactly how I like my banchan—simple, with minimal salt and soy sauce…and extra ground sesame seeds for my vegetable banchan dishes.

  After more than an hour and half of battling the worst traffic, Court finally pulls into the long driveway in front of Ivy and Tony’s home. The place is fully lit, and vehicles dot the driveway, like on Friday when I arrived from Korea. But unlike that day, now I’m here full of pride and triumph! I’ve already checked off the biggest item on my to-accomplish list.

  Court and I walk into the dining room together, where an upbeat tune is coming from the stereo system. Ivy smiles from her seat. “There’s the got-the-job-on-my-first-try girl!”

  I laugh. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you.” I hug her, then greet the rest of the gang.

  Although I was nervous about the interview and had my sleep disrupted because of that, I can feel myself getting revved up again. Nothing recharges the batteries like being surrounded by people I adore.

  Since it’s early, we have some finger food and nonalcoholic drinks. There’s some fizzy white-pear cider that’s been laid in, and it’s absolutely fabulous. The closest thing to alcohol-free Dom I’ve ever tried.

  “Just to make sure you aren’t left out of the loop, Court and Pascal have set a wedding date,” Tony says.

  “What? When?” I say. They’ve been engaged since forever. Well, not quite forever, but it feels that way.

  “October seventeenth,” Court says. “The third Saturday.”

  “Wow. That doesn’t give you a lot of time, does it?”

  “We already booked the venue and caterer, so it shouldn’t be that complicated,” Pascal says, then bites into a cracker layered with cheese.

  “Awesome. I’m so happy for you! I’m getting invited, right?”

  “Of course!” she says.

  Everyone raises a glass and toasts are made. God, I love celebrations, and they’re better when we have more and more things to celebrate.

  “Now, Yuna, tell us about your interview,” Edgar says as he passes some saltines to Jo, who’s looking slightly wan.

  “You okay?” I ask Jo. She seemed fine when we got together for dinner after I landed in L.A.

  “Nausea,” she replies. “Some days I’m fine, some days I’m not. Unfortunately, today’s kinda not. But it isn’t so bad I can’t be around food. Just can’t stomach the idea of having anything with grease.”

  “You want some fruit salad, then?” Ivy asks. “We have a huge bowl in the fridge.”

  “Nope. Just saltines. But thanks.” Jo turns to me. “And about the interview…”

  “He was upset I didn’t call,” I say.

  “What do you mean?” Ivy says. “I feel like there’s a good story behind this.”

  “There is.” I then tell them everything about how Declan and I first met at the airport. Since it happened before I signed the NDA, I don’t think it’s covered.

  “Holy shit, I can’t believe you did that. Declan Winters is hot!” Pascal says, her eyes wide.

  “Hey now,” Court says.

  Pascal pats his shoulder. “Not as hot as
you, honey.”

  “Maybe if you need glasses,” Edgar says dryly.

  “He is kind of dreamy.” Evie sighs, while Nate makes a gagging motion behind her. “And he was amazing in Pushing His Buttons on Netflix. I watched it, like, a hundred times.”

  “I haven’t seen it,” I say. “But maybe I should. You know, for boss research.”

  “Oh, you’ll love it,” Ivy says.

  “I think we watched it a hundred times, too.” Tony’s smile is mildly strained.

  That poor man. But he’s willing to stab his own eyeballs if that would make Ivy happy, so I’m sure he’ll watch it for the hundred and first time if she asks.

  “I want an autograph if you can swing it,” Ivy says.

  “I’ll see what I can do. But enough about my new boss,” I say. “Now that I have a job and all, I need to tackle the next thing on my to-do list: figuring out where I’m going to live.”

  “What do you mean?” Tony asks with a small frown. “I thought you were going to stay with us.”

  “Yeah…” If this were a short visit, I would. But I’m here to prove something. “The thing is, the deal between me and Eugene is that I live on what I can make without mooching off my friends. Obviously, living here would totally be mooching.”

  “But a new place means you’ll need at least two months’ rent,” Kim says. “One for the deposit and one for the first month. And that’s assuming the landlord is okay with your credit. I don’t know if you have any in this country.”

  Oh. That’s more complicated than I thought…

  “Not to mention, a decent place in a safe area is pricey,” Evie adds.

  “And you really don’t want to be in a sketchy area,” Jo says, her expression serious. “Or a unit with poor maintenance. The landlords always claim they’ll fix everything when you move in, but that’s a lie. Once you sign the lease, they never do anything.”

  “Really?” I’m starting to feel discouraged about all these potential pitfalls.

  All my girlfriends nod. None of the men do…since they probably never had to get anything within my poor assistant’s budget. Well…maybe Wyatt. But then, he’s probably used to throwing around his billion bucks by now.

  Hmm. I didn’t realize there would be all these problems. I never had to do much research when I decided to move out of my parents’ primary residence compound. I know the area well, and Ms. Kim and Mr. Choi did most of the background work to make sure wherever I chose to live would be acceptable.

  But at the same time, I don’t want to cheat to beat Eugene. That wouldn’t be right.

  “Why don’t we do this?” Ivy says slowly. “Your not having credit is probably going to be an issue, and you don’t have two months’ rent right now. So why don’t you live here and just pay us whatever rent you might’ve paid for an apartment? That way you have a nice place to live in a safe area.”

  “Exactly.” Tony is the picture of earnest sincerity as he places a hand on Ivy’s arm. “And it’ll give us peace of mind. We don’t want anything happening to you while you’re in L.A.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask. Ivy and Tony aren’t newlyweds, but they act like they’re still on their honeymoon. Don’t they want to have the whole place to themselves? No matter how large your home is, having a guest for a long time is an imposition.

  “Come on, Yuna,” Ivy says. “You’d offer the same if the situation were reversed. I don’t even want to take any rent money, to be honest, but I know you won’t feel right otherwise because of the whole thing with your brother.”

  “On the other hand,” Court says, “if you don’t want to be here for some reason—like, I don’t know, Tony’s body odor issues or something—you can come stay with us instead.” He grins. “We charge less rent. Ten percent with the friends-and-family discount.”

  “Ten percent isn’t enough to make up for having to watch you parade around in her underwear,” Tony says with a mock growl. He leans toward me and lowers his voice slightly. “I suggest installing locks on your dresser drawers.”

  The women’s shoulders start shaking. I bite my lip so I don’t start laughing myself.

  “A pathetic offer,” Edgar says. “We’ll give you the first month free.”

  “We do thirty percent off on top of a free first month,” Nate says with a feigned sneer. “Plus a ride in a pink Cullinan. I’m sure I can get Dane to volunteer somehow.”

  I spread my arms like I want to hug them all. “I seriously have the best friends ever.”

  Ivy smiles, reaches over and squeezes my hand. Court raises his lemonade. “To friendship!”

  We toast. “To friendship!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Yuna

  After the dinner’s over and our friends leave, I shower quickly, then go to the piano room where Ivy’s resting on a couch with a book. It’s one of her favorite rooms in the mansion, even though she’s too big to sit on the bench at the proper distance to play the Bösendorfer Tony custom-ordered for her. It has the most gorgeous tiger lily motif on the side, which is her favorite flower.

  “Some Mozart for the babies?” I ask.

  “Yes, please.” She closes the book.

  I play Sonata Facile. Everyone loves it, and I could play it blindfolded.

  “That was great,” she says when I’m finished. There’s a pause. “Sebastian and Katherine are kicking.”

  “Ooh!” I rush over to the couch and place a hand over her bump.

  Sure enough, there are thumps. Little feet punting against my palms.

  “Oh my God, they’re so precious!” I squeal. “And strong! I can’t wait to meet them.”

  “Soon,” Ivy says with a breathless laugh. “I can’t wait to pop them out. They’ve been squishing my bladder long enough.”

  I let out a soft sympathetic sound. “Is it very uncomfortable?”

  “Not really uncomfortable. More like annoying when I have to use the bathroom every ten minutes, especially at night.”

  I look at her belly, stretched tight with twins growing inside. Ivy doesn’t walk anymore. She waddles. It can’t be fun to have to toddle to the bathroom all the time.

  “They need to invent a special bed just for pregnant women,” I say. “With a toilet attached to the butt area so we can pee without having to get up at night.”

  She laughs. “I can’t even imagine.”

  “Just sit up and go! And maybe the deluxe model can have a ‘remain lying down and go’ feature. I feel like I should propose it to my dad and see what his engineers can come up with.”

  She laughs again, tears in her eyes. “Oh my God. I’m trying to imagine his face.”

  I grin. “Me too.”

  But I don’t really have to imagine. He’d sigh, then ask Mr. Park to do some market research to humor me. And he’d ask why I’m spending so little time with him, because he thinks I should come by more often. I miss him. But it’s his fault I’m in America, because he asked Eugene to marry me off.

  Ivy grows serious. “I know you’re doing this thing with Eugene, but you’re okay with your parents, right? No hard feelings?”

  “Not really. I mean… He’s only doing this because my parents asked him to. They know they can’t make me do anything, but think Eugene can. Because he’s my brother, they have this idea that he’ll know a better way to communicate the urgency of the matter and convince me. They forget he can be impatient and ruthless when he decides to set a goal.” I sigh a little. “If they hadn’t asked, he’d still be a great brother. The guy who rented a yacht for a celebration party when I got into Curtis and other crazy stuff. Because it’s family, not a goal.”

  “Hopefully, he’ll learn that he has to be more open to your needs after this,” Ivy says, patting my hand gently.

  “Yeah, I hope so too. He can get a little bossy.” Which is fine with other people, just not with me. I’m his sister, not some corporate underling.

  She yawns hugely, covering her mouth. “Sorry.”

  “Is that my h
onorary nephew and niece saying they need to get some sleep?”

  She smiles. “Probably.”

  “Six more weeks!”

  “Yup.”

  She doesn’t ask, but I help her up anyway. When she’s out of the room, I close the piano and check my phone.

  Nothing from Eugene or my parents. I wonder if Mom and Dad even know I’m out of the country. Ms. Kim might not have sent in her regular report on my movements. With the new assignment, she’s no longer spying for Mom.

  Maybe my parents don’t care that I fled as long as they can get me married off to one of the Hundred. The idea is both depressing and infuriating, so I’m just going to pretend for the moment that my mom is worried, but hasn’t reached out yet because she’s busy.

  But there is a text from Benedict. It came about an hour ago.

  –Benedict: Sent an email with all the procedures and rules. The boss gets cranky when things don’t go the way he wants. And I won’t be available starting tomorrow, so you’ll have to manage as best you can. But I’m sure you’ll do fabulously. I have a feeling about you, and I’m never wrong about things like that.

  If only he could bottle that “Yuna’s awesome and she knows what she’s doing” and send some to my brother!

  Since I have an early morning, I go to the huge suite where Tony and Ivy are letting me stay. For privacy, it’s located on the opposite end of the house from the wing she and Tony use.

  The room overlooks the garden in the back, is decorated with lots of elegant cream lace and has soft white cotton sheets on the bed. There’s a large ivory leather couch and a coffee table in the seating area, plus a vanity set up perfectly for makeup. The walk-in closet has three full-length mirrors so I can look at myself from every angle. The island in the center is empty. I’ll fill it with my jewelry and accessories later, when the rest of my things arrive.

  I get the makeup off my face, smear on some toner, lotion and cream in its place and lie down on the bed.

  I’m going to kill it tomorrow. Working for Declan can’t be harder than, say, sight-reading the cadenza from Rachmaninoff’s third piano concerto. I can’t wait to see Eugene kneel in defeat before me. Since he’s my brother, he doesn’t have to prostrate himself. I’ll settle for kneeling.