by Nadia Lee
Somehow the fact that he doesn’t want to publicize the good things he does to make the world a better place makes me like him more. And a man who loves dogs like that can’t possibly be the type to speak in a cold, detached manner about his wife’s car accident.
“So, was it good?” Ivy prompts me.
“Very.” I sigh dreamily as remembered pleasure runs through me. “The best.” Now I understand why my friends look so languidly happy when they talk about their husbands.
“And…?”
“Aaaand…then I sort of freaked out.” I can’t keep a secret from Ivy, not when it comes to something like this.
“How come?”
I try to think back on my reaction, because I still can’t quite pinpoint why. It wasn’t like I thought he’d force me into doing something I didn’t want. But…
“I think it was just kind of…shocking that we could have chemistry that hot.” Maybe talking will help me sort it out. “I’ve never had anything that amazing. I mean, like, ever. And then the next moment I was thinking, Holy shit, I’m kissing my boss, and I need to face him tomorrow!”
“And…?” Ivy says, giving me that I have no idea what the problem is look.
Faced with Ivy’s raised eyebrows, I can’t remember what the problem was either. What I felt was akin to fear, but…of what?
“It’s just…unprofessional.” My voice is low because even I know what I’m saying is ridiculous. Professionalism isn’t even on my list of concerns in life. And it isn’t like I’m going to continue working after the eight weeks are up.
She laughs. “Like Nate and Evie.”
I shake my head. “That’s different. Evie didn’t have her family pressuring her to get hitched.”
“It’s not different. And what does that have to do with professionalism?”
“Nothing. Ugh. I can’t think clearly right now.” I prop my chin in my hand and sigh. “If I’m going to have a relationship, I want something that can lead to more. Like marriage and a future, like what you and Tony have. Or Nate and Evie. As a matter of fact, what Court and Pascal, Edgar and Jo, and Kim and Wyatt all have.” I tick each couple off my fingers, then feel depressed that I’m the only one without somebody who loves me to pieces.
“Well… Maybe you can have that with Declan. He seems like a nice guy. Who, you know, also happens to be fantastically handsome and an amazing kisser.”
“I don’t know.” I sigh, hating how indecisive I feel. “I just wasn’t ready, you know? To be really vulnerable, I mean. When I look at you and Tony, you guys are totally defenseless against each other. It’s like that Star Trek show that Court and Pascal like so much. You’re like spaceships with no shields against each other. But when you’re together, you have this super shield against everyone else.” I make a circle with my hands. “Like this. With you two inside.”
“Couples do tend to be very open and vulnerable to each other,” Ivy says. “If they want to stay together, that is. It’s work.”
“It is, but do you know you’re supposed to be with a guy who loves you more than you love him?” It’s practically a mantra in K-romance novels.
Ivy looks at me like she doesn’t understand why anybody would want to do that.
I add, “Otherwise you’re going to have what my poor sister-in-law has.”
Ivy doesn’t probe. She knows my family can be complicated. “So you’re going to wait for him to lower his shields?”
“I…guess…?” There’s a huge amount of uncertainty running through me at the moment. “He has eight weeks to do it.”
“My God, Yuna, you have no clue what you want.” Ivy shifts to get more comfortable, putting a hand under her cheek. “What do you think is going to happen if you let yourself be open to…possibilities with Declan?”
I shrug helplessly. “I don’t know… Maybe my mom will try to pay him off…?”
Now Ivy’s staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Pay him off? To do what?”
“To leave me. She’s done it before,” I grumble, hugging myself. I usually laugh it off, because what else is there to do? But on very rare occasions—like now—it makes me depressed that men who claim to like me can be bought off to dump me instead.
Ivy’s jaw slackens. “She did?”
I nod, feeling slightly chilled. “And the guy took the money. It was humiliating.”
“That bastard.”
“No cussing!” I rush over and put my hands protectively over the baby bump. “The twins can hear you!”
“They can’t even say ‘mama’ yet. They don’t know what a bastard is.”
“That’s not the point! Babies feel everything the mother feels. Don’t you know you have to focus on…” I struggle for a word. “Okay, I can’t think of the word in English, but in Korea, we call it taegyo. When you’re pregnant, you’re only supposed to hear lovely things and think lovely thoughts, so that your babies can grow with love and goodness in your belly. Does that make sense?”
“Yes.” Ivy reaches over and squeezes my hand. “And I think it’s lovely that I’m angry on your behalf and want to kick the terrible human being’s as—um, butt. I wouldn’t want Katherine to meet some guy like that when she grows up, either.”
I sigh. I don’t think Ivy gets it, but then, most Westerners don’t seem to understand the importance of taegyo. My mom made sure Eugene’s wife heard nothing but soothing classical music and read wise words from old philosophers. Absolutely no news was allowed.
And Ivy doesn’t seem to sense my mood. “Back to the rat who took the money and left you. How come I never heard about that?”
I hesitate for a moment. I don’t want to bring back any bad memories for her, but I don’t want to lie about it, either. “It happened while we thought you were, you know…” The word I don’t say is dead.
“Oh,” Ivy says. That was nearly a decade of her life gone. And I’m sure it’s still disconcerting and infuriating to think about.
It’s absolutely fate that Tony found her again and they’re together when everything in their lives conspired to pull them apart.
I add, “And when you were back, you didn’t remember a lot of things, and it just…wasn’t something that came up. Or something I thought was important enough to share out of the blue.”
“I understand.” She sighs softly. “But why do you think Declan would take your mom’s money? It’s not like he needs it. Or does he?”
“Probably not,” I mumble. As far as I know, he doesn’t have a gambling problem or any outrageous spending habits.
“And the men you dated after that jerk didn’t all leave you for money, did they?”
I slump a little. “I didn’t really date seriously after that. It was pretty traumatic. And by the time I was old enough to be married off, I wasn’t going to meet up with some dossier bachelor.”
Maybe the incident meant more than I thought. I chalked it up to stuff that often happens in the chaebol circle. Okay, granted, it is more often done to women who aspire to wealth by marrying a rich guy, but still…
Since then, I’ve been looking for a guy who’ll never leave me. Who’ll always put me above everything and everyone else. Who my family can’t buy with their money and influence.
And I still haven’t found that guy.
“You’re probably right that I’m not open-minded enough about possibilities, but I just… I can’t let myself be that exposed. I don’t want to give a guy—any guy—the chance to hurt me like that again.” I can feel my shoulders droop.
“That’s a very human reaction. Like…” Ivy lowers her voice, like she’s about to confess to a crime when the statute of limitations hasn’t expired. “Tony taught me how to swim, and I know I’m not going to drown now. But when I see a large body of water, I still get that tightness in my chest.”
“Oh, sweetie.” As soon as I can access my funds again, I’m hiring ninjas to throw shuriken into Tony’s mom’s ass. She’s responsible for so many things that went wrong in Ivy and Tony’
s lives, including Ivy’s fear of water. Sharp, pointy things in her ass is the least she deserves.
Ivy gives me a small smile. It’s a signal that she appreciates my reaction and that she’s okay…which still doesn’t do much to soothe my resentment toward Tony’s mom.
“I can’t prevent it from happening,” Ivy begins, “but as soon as I take a deep breath, it eases. So maybe you shouldn’t let your gut reaction stop you from exploring what could be something amazing. I’ve never seen you react this way with any guy before, not even Evgeny. And everybody adored him at Curtis.”
That’s true. He was the hottest violinist at the conservatory, and girls followed him around like flies. I liked him, but never felt any urge to be with him romantically, even though we went out a couple of times. “You think?”
“Yeah. It isn’t like you’re planning on making this job your career. You have your work at the Ivy Foundation. Plus you said it was only until your brother accepted that you’re serious about marrying who you want, not who your family wants.”
She’s right. I don’t have to take what happened today so seriously. And I can be maybe ten percent more open to things with Declan than I’ve been.
It’s like learning to play Chopin’s “Arpeggio” étude. Start slow, then increase the speed by ten percent each time until you can play it correctly at tempo. Why should a relationship be any different? “What would I do without you?”
“Same thing I’d do if you weren’t in my life.” She smiles. “You’re the best friend and sister anybody could hope for, and you’ve been my rock the moment we met. I’m on Team Yuna, and I suspect I’m not the only one.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand.
I squeeze back. “You’re the best.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Yuna
The next morning, I put on my absolute best outfit and shoes. Nothing boosts a girl’s confidence like a stylish burgundy Valentino dress and sparkly platinum Dior sandals with slim four-inch heels. A Cartier bracelet sits elegantly on my left wrist, and I opt for diamonds because today’s a diamond kind of a day. Need to be strong. Hard. And shiny.
I’ve made up my mind not to take the kiss too seriously or make a big deal about it. It was a great kiss, but that doesn’t mean it has to change everything. I’m going to let myself assess Declan. Eight weeks is plenty of time to figure out what kind of man he is. And even if he sounds like he should be reading sex scenes from romance novels, if he doesn’t have what I need, I’ll simply move on.
After all, half the world’s population is men. Surely my soul mate is out there, just waiting for me to discover him in some fateful encounter.
“You’re looking great,” Tony says, coming in from his morning run. He doesn’t usually exercise so early, but with Ivy pregnant, he tries to get it out of the way while she’s asleep so he can spend as much time with her as possible. Super sweet.
“Thanks. You look pretty good yourself. Enjoy the run?”
“Yeah.”
“Have a great day with Ivy. Tell her I love her, and give kisses to my nephew and niece.”
“Will do. You have a good day, too.”
Smiling, I climb into the waiting car and take the nice ride out Pacific Coast Highway to Declan’s home in Malibu. Once there, I inhale deeply to center myself and step inside.
I’m sticking to the plan, even if my stomach’s a bit jittery, like it’s full of quivering Jell-O.
“Morning,” Declan says from the kitchen, looking absolutely scrumptious in a T-shirt and shorts. His slightly damp black hair is slicked back, showing the wide forehead, the dark, slightly slanted eyebrows and the straight line of his nose. His gray eyes are observant but warm as he looks at me.
Suddenly the mansion seems hotter. I resist an urge to lick my lips. Don’t show him anything. It’s bad enough that my mouth is tingling again with the memory of yesterday.
“Good morning,” I say with my absolute best smile.
He places egg whites and berries on his plate. “Coffee?”
“Thank you.” I sit at the counter and study him.
He’s acting like it’s like any other morning. No awkwardness. No “hey, wanna continue what we began yesterday” stuff. Maybe I just imagined the kiss.
I could have. After all, the man is hotter than a sidewalk in Singapore.
But then I remember how unsteady I was on my feet and how much my lips throbbed after I arrived at Ivy’s. If I imagined all that, it was an awfully physical hallucination.
Regardless, it’s good that he isn’t acting differently. Like yesterday never happened. I should feel relieved, because kissing a boss is new territory, and I’m not sure exactly how to handle it yet. But the pang in my gut feels like disappointment.
On the other hand, feeling let down is ridiculous! Declan and I haven’t agreed on anything, and it isn’t like we’re an official couple just because we kissed.
After he finishes breakfast, Declan clears his throat. “Look, about last night… If I made you feel uncomfortable—”
“No, I’m fine.”
“What I mean is, if—”
“Really. I’m good.” Why does he want to talk about it? Especially now? I still haven’t figured out precisely what I’m going to say to him, so we can communicate properly. It’d be super annoying if we misunderstood each other because I picked a wrong word or two. But since he seems to require some kind of reassurance from me that everything’s all right between us, I point at my face. “See the steel sheet?”
He squints. “The what?”
“It’s a figure of speech in Korea. What I mean is I’ve laid down a sheet of steel on my face, and I’m fine. No negative feelings.” Like shame or embarrassment. But I don’t say that out loud, because I don’t want him to think I’ve been mired in either of those emotions. I was only, like, five percent embarrassed. The rest was pure arousal.
“Oh. Glad to hear it.” He gives me a look that says he hasn’t made the connection between me having a sheet of steel on my face and me being fine, but he’s just going to accept what I said. Which I appreciate.
Something about his expression says he’s not wholly satisfied. Still, he said he was glad, so I’m going to take his word for it. Americans are very direct with their verbal communication. No reading between lines like you do in Korea, where yes can be no and welcome can be I can’t believe you have the gall to show your face here.
His phone beeps, and he checks the screen. A frown creates three deep lines between his eyebrows. I have the urge to reach over and run a finger over them, so I pick up my mug for a sip…only to realize I’ve already finished my coffee.
“Melvin—that’s the director—wants to meet today at ten, rather than tomorrow like we were supposed to. Are you okay with it?” Declan asks.
For a second, I wonder why he’s asking, since it’s him doing the audition. Then I remember I’m supposed to go with him and do the waltz because some actress’s mom is in some kind of meditation center or whatever. “Sure. I’m one hundred percent flexible.”
“Awesome. Let’s do another quick reading and practice, and then we’ll get going.”
Chapter Thirty
Declan
“Oh, thank God you’re here!” Melvin has a voice that sounds like it had eight whiskeys and stayed up too late the night before. He clasps his hands around mine the moment we walk in to see him.
The overenthusiastic welcome is a little shocking. He’s too cool and too jaded to be like this. Besides, it isn’t like I’m some superstar like Ryder Reed. On the other hand, Melvin doesn’t want Ryder Reed. He wants a fresh face—me.
“I’ve been pulling my hair out,” Melvin says. “And I don’t have much left to lose!”
“What can I do to make your life easier?” I’ll forgo commenting on his hair, or lack thereof.
He takes my elbow and leads me to a couch in the reception area. Yuna follows and sits on a stool nearby. Melvin ignores her—to somebody like him, assistants are about as s
ignificant as a pen a hotel leaves by your bed.
“I hear you collect classical music. Piano pieces,” he begins.
“Yeah, Schubert,” I say.
“Amazing. I knew you’d be perfect!”
For what? Should I point out that Schubert isn’t really known for his waltz, in case it’s about the dance I’m supposed to do? Or should I just continue to nod and smile until Melvin tells me what he wants?
“My daughter’s applying to conservatories next year, and she’s been driving me crazy, asking me to critique her audition pieces! What do I know about dead people’s music? Eh? Eh? You can’t even sing to it!”
“Uh…” Just because I collect Schubert recordings doesn’t mean I know anything about applying to conservatories. I didn’t even go to college.
I glance over at Yuna, who’s looking at Melvin like he’s a loincloth-wearing barbarian.
“Since you’re so informed about classical music, I thought you could help me,” Melvin says, putting an I’m counting on you hand on my shoulder.
“Yeah. Sure.” Anything to make you happy so I can get the role I want.
I gotta branch out from romantic comedies before I get typecast. And a spy flick would be perfect. Except I don’t understand why I have to be his daughter’s conservatory admissions consultant to get the role. Jesus. Tim should’ve warned me before I showed up. I would’ve had Yuna research it. Actually, wait… Yuna went to one. I could’ve asked her to share everything.
“Perfect. I knew you were a team player! Not like some of the snotty assholes I have to work with. Hollywood egos. I tell you. Think they’re so big and popular.” Melvin shakes his head and fumbles with his phone.
A tune comes out. I don’t know the title, but I recognize the dramatic opening theme. I’ve only heard it performed by an orchestra, but the piano version isn’t bad. Actually, it’s pretty well done. Enjoyable.
But I don’t know enough about music to critique it. But Yuna…