The Billionaire and the Runaway Bride

by Nadia Lee

  “If this one”—Mom indicates me—“ever gets around to marrying and producing some grandchildren for me to bounce on my knees. Ideally before I become too old and arthritic.”

  “Mom, you’ll never be arthritic,” I say, switching to Korean and doing my best not to be sarcastic. Mom strides like a model in her high heels and has an army of masseuses and assistants to make her life run smoothly.

  “You never know, dear. I’m not getting any younger,” she says.

  “None of us are.”

  “Obviously. Now stop talking back to your mother. It’s unbecoming.” She turns back to my friends. “Ivy? Tony? Do you mind if I take pictures of the babies? I want my husband to see them.”

  Oh, crap. No, no, no…

  If Dad sees Mom holding the babies, he’s going to tell me to get married and pop some out. Dad can be weirdly greedy about grandbabies. He is even unhappier than Mom that Eugene hasn’t produced more than one child. He told Eugene so at a family dinner once in front of his wife, and Eugene responded that it wasn’t due to a weekly lack of trying. My brother doesn’t seem to care that I didn’t need to know the frequency of his attempts, because that’s gross—although thinking back on it, I think he lied. He doesn’t have the time to do that sort of activity with his wife.

  So that made Dad even more determined to marry me off, ideally to some virile young stud—I mean, a young, wealthy, overeducated chaebol heir with a high sperm count, a very private piece of information that I’m certain Dad’s people can unearth, because they’re scary like that. He wouldn’t care that I don’t want to have a merger husband and merger babies.

  “Go ahead,” Tony says, apparently oblivious to my desperate telepathic message asking him to say no.

  “Thank you.” Mom turns to Ms. Lim, who pulls out her phone and snaps a few pictures. “Send the best ones to my husband. Tell him we’re doing fabulously. Also tell him Yuna’s well.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mom turns back to Ivy. “Do you have nannies yet?”

  “Not yet. We thought it might be best for us to enjoy our time with the babies.”

  “I’m not saying you shouldn’t, but dear, how can you enjoy the babies if you don’t sleep?”

  “Tony and I are taking tur—”

  “It sounds romantic and wonderful to say you’re going to do it yourself, but in reality, it’s awful. Sleep deprivation is a killer. It destroys marriages and puts wrinkles on your otherwise pretty face. Not even facials and Botox can fix them.”

  “Mom, I’m sure Ivy’s thought of everything,” I say.

  “Everyone thinks they’ve thought of everything until they realize they haven’t. It’s especially true of new parents.”

  “Hiring nannies feels like a lot of work,” Ivy explains. “All the background checks and everything. It makes me a little nervous.”

  “Don’t be nervous, my dear. All desirable things require work. I can still point out the wrinkles I got from lack of sleep after I had Eugene and Yuna.”

  Here we go again, I think with a mixture of affection and exasperation. Her war stories and battle scars. Maybe I should tell her that since I don’t want to get wrinkles, I don’t want to have babies. Which means I don’t need a husband.

  “Babies never, ever sleep through anything, in my experience. And after four days of no sleep, I gave up and hired a nanny. But with you, you have twins. There’s no guarantee they’re going to wake up at the same time to be fed. For all you know, they might alternate. And if they alternate, they’re going to wake each other up.”

  Horror slowly dawns on Ivy and Tony’s faces. Yup. That’s my mom, the Edgar Allen Poe of new maternity.

  “If you want, I can bring the nannies who took care of Minho. That’s Eugene’s son. I don’t think you met him.”

  “I don’t think they’ve met Eugene,” I add.

  “And if they’re not to your liking, I have a list of trilingual nannies I made for Yuna’s children, so they can naturally acquire three languages. Since Yuna’s being uncooperative, I don’t mind letting you use them instead, Ivy.” Mom smiles sweetly.

  I try not to roll my eyes. She’s trying so, so hard to make me feel bad about not getting married and giving her all the grandchildren she wants. But if I tried to satisfy her need for grandchildren, I’d have to pop out enough to fill a symphony orchestra.

  “We’ll definitely think about it. Thank you,” Ivy says.

  “All right. Then I won’t bother you anymore about that, because I’m really here to cuddle with the babies.” Mom kisses Sebastian’s forehead. “Afterward, Yuna, you and I are going to have dinner and discuss some things.”

  “What kind of things?” If it’s about what’s going on in Korea, she’s going to demur, because we don’t discuss certain private family business in front of others, even if it’s my soul sister.

  “Fresh new bachelors. We found some you’ll like.”

  Mom sounds way too convinced for my own good, and that strikes terror into my heart. Actually, the terror I’m feeling is like a wrecking ball. Whenever my mom says “some you’ll like,” it never ends well. I disagree with her options and her feelings get hurt.

  Not to mention, I still haven’t figured out a graceful way to bring up Declan.

  “Hey, Mom, guess who I slept with?” isn’t really the best opening. On top of that, she’s going to want to commission a dossier on him and ask me if I plan on marrying him. She thinks I’m too old to just be dating.

  We return to the hotel. I realize I haven’t contacted Declan even once since he dropped me off at Ivy’s place.

  I pull out my phone and angle it so Mom can’t read the screen.

  –Me: I’m about to have dinner with Mom. Wish I could spend the evening with you instead.

  Although that might be difficult with Mr. Choi around again. He takes his job super seriously. He’s the perfect bodyguard when I want to be left alone, but the worst when I want some intimate time with my new boyfriend.

  –Declan: Me too.

  –Me: Sorry. This isn’t how I envisioned our first day as a couple.

  –Declan: No prob. You couldn’t have done anything about your mom showing up.

  I can feel the gentle soothing in the text and sigh. I so want to see him right now.

  –Declan: Promise not to mope around alone at home. Haha. I’m going to meet Aiden for drinks. You haven’t seen your mom in a while, so have a good time.

  –Me: Thanks! Have a great time with Aiden, too! <3

  I smile and put the phone away before Mom can ask me who I’m texting. Once we reach the hotel, we go to the restaurant on the top floor for cocktails and dinner. Ms. Lim already arranged everything, because that woman can sense what Mom wants before she says it.

  The table we get seated at is in a corner with a perfect view of the city. I order a margarita with an extra shot of tequila because I’m going to need it. Mom orders a glass of dry Riesling, and we drink with a platter of fresh lobster chunks, prawns and oysters between us to serve as anju, snacks Koreans like to eat while drinking.

  “Your dad and I’ve given this whole marriage thing a lot of thought, and we know what the problem is now,” Mom begins.

  Uh oh. “You do?”

  “Yes. We gave you too many choices.”

  “I thought having lots of options was great. The more the merrier.” I’m dreading where this is going. Should I just tell her I’m in a relationship with Declan and I don’t think I can go with her picks? But how should I start? If she asks me questions about his family, friends, education, finances and so on, I won’t be able to answer any of them. But she’s going to expect me to know because that’s how it would be if I were dating somebody in Korea.

  Then I also remember that Declan and I agreed we’re in a relationship, but he didn’t say he was thinking of marriage. That’s going to make him completely unacceptable to Mom, even more so than him not being Korean—a deal-breaker in itself—not merger material and not from the ri
ght echelon of society.

  So many strikes against him. My head starts to throb.

  “Having too many choices leads to paralysis and indecision. I thought we were above that, but I suppose psychology is universal. So. Your dad and I went over the candidates and picked out the best three.”

  If this was about which three companies to invest in, I’d be ecstatic. Dad’s good with that sort of thing. But marriage? I’m sure they picked out the three best merger candidates.

  “This one in particular is excellent,” Mom says. “Ryu Taejo. He’s only a year older than you, is in charge of a thriving construction arm within Se-In Group and he’s an excellent violinist. His favorite composition is Vitali’s Chaconne in G-minor, which also happens to be your favorite. It’s like it’s fate!”

  Yeah, just like it’s fate that a dog and I both like eating steak.

  “And he plays it like a dream,” Mom continues. “I have a recording if you want to hear it.”

  I start to say no thanks. I’m quite happy with Heifetz’s recording and don’t need this Ryu Taejo’s rendition. But before I can decline, Mom shakes her head. “Never mind. I’ll have Ms. Lim send it to you. Once you hear it, you’ll know how talented he is. His performance makes your soul soar, which means he has the sensitive, delicate heart you’re looking for.”

  Oh jeez. This is an angle she’s never tried before. Should I point out most artistic geniuses are neither sensitive nor delicate? They’re more like temperamental assholes. And womanizers. And crazy. And have syphilis. So many classic composers died from it. I mean, none of them cut off an ear like Vincent van Gogh. But that’s setting the bar pretty low.

  Besides, nobody who is in charge of a construction company has a sensitive, delicate heart. It wouldn’t last a second in the midst of all the jackhammering ruckus.

  Mom adds, “Not to mention, it’d be adorable because you could play Chaconne together.”

  “If I need somebody to play it with me, I can always ask one of my classmates from Curtis,” I say with a thin smile.

  “You don’t have to be so negative,” Mom says. “I just want you to be open-minded. He’s also very handsome.” She gestures at Ms. Lim, who brings over three large, glossy photos. “Take a look.”

  I make a show of studying the pictures. Mom won’t stop otherwise.

  Okay, so…he’s not bad. Nice black hair, slightly slanted black eyebrows and wide-set eyes. But I’ve been with Declan Winters for three weeks now. Ryu Taejo simply doesn’t stack up.

  “If you want, I can arrange to have him fly out here to meet you. A vacation. Just the two of you.”

  “Please, no,” I say. “That’s not what I need right now. Besides, I can’t just take time off to meet some guy. I’m a working woman, remember?” Who would’ve thought Eugene’s ridiculous bet would come in handy?

  Mom sighs. “Fine. Have Ms. Kim work wherever you’re frittering away what’s left of your twenties until they find a permanent replacement.”

  “Mom! That is soooo unprofessional.” There’s no way I’m letting Ms. Kim work for Declan and have the pleasure of counting reps when he works out! That task belongs to me!

  “I’m serious, Yuna.” Mom shifts until she’s sitting straighter. “You’re going to get married by this winter. The venue Ms. Hong reserved is rather nice. It’s one of four I selected, actually.”

  Mom’s too serious, and her deadline is weird. Why this winter? She always wanted me to marry in late spring because that’s apparently the best season for weddings. “Why? Is Hae Min in trouble?”

  She looks away, her eyebrows pinching briefly.

  There’s definitely something strange going on. Suspicion already took root; now it blooms like a poisonous flower in my gut. “You’ve been acting really odd. If I have to get married by a certain time, I deserve to know the whole story.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Declan

  Aiden and I meet at Angelina on the top floor of the Aylster Hotel for drinks. The place has floor-to-ceiling glass walls, and the view is absolutely stunning up here no matter when you come, even on the odd day when it’s raining. And today it’s sunny and beautiful.

  I make a mental note to bring Yuna here for a date when she can get free of her mom. She’ll love the food and everything about this place.

  “So. Everything go okay with your assistant and the whole baby thing?” Aiden asks.

  “Yup. Totally smooth. Yuna’s friend had twins. They’re cute.” I think about the babies. And how Yuna smiled when she held them. The memory does something funny to my heart. Just like the memory of what happened afterward does something to my dick.

  But mostly, it’s the heart.

  “Babies are nice when they aren’t your responsibility. Otherwise, no thanks. Do you know that newborn calves can walk on their own within an hour? Human babies can’t even shit correctly until they’re, like, two,” Aiden says.

  “Someone piss in your Wheaties?” When he gives something this much negative energy, it means he’s unhappy about life in general.

  “I just think human babies aren’t as adapted for survival, but somehow we manage to stay at the top of the food chain. No thanks to babies.”

  Babies might not have put us on the top of the food chain, but they sure are great at making Yuna smile. So they’re awesome if you ask me. But Aiden’s in no mood to appreciate them, obviously. “Well, you’re just a ray of sunshine. You were in a much better mood yesterday. I don’t think it’s because Yuna and I had to leave early.”

  “No.”

  “So what’s going on? Some asshole judge deny a motion or something?”

  “Ha! My opposing counsel wishes that, but he has a better chance of licking his own balls.” He takes a swig of his drink. “Nah, I just, you know…got stood up.”

  I almost spew out my wine. “What? Why?” Aiden might not be movie-star handsome, but he’s still a good-looking bastard. And very successful. Ella might’ve tried to marry him if it weren’t for the fact that I would never let that happen to my best friend.

  “It’s the most ridiculous thing in the world. We met, right? Hooked up, everything went fine. But then she found out I’m a lawyer. And she goes, ‘Oh I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I want a normal person.’” He looks insulted. “Like lawyers aren’t normal.”

  “At least she said sorry.”

  “An empty apology. I won’t accept it. She has some weird bias against attorneys. She’s an…an attornist!”

  “I’m not sure that’s really a word.”

  “It sure as hell should be, to shame those who hate us.”

  “She probably just had a bad experience somewhere along the line.”

  He nods morosely. “She apparently got fucked over by some ex-boyfriend who’s also a lawyer.”

  “Right? There you go.”

  “Yeah, well, I got fucked over by an ex who’s a woman. You don’t see me swearing off women.”

  I decide not to point out that he can’t swear off women because he doesn’t play for the other team. Probably wouldn’t make him feel better. “She’s going to be sorry she said that to you, especially when she needs a great lawyer in her corner.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You should just hook up with some other woman. Who isn’t one of those, uh, attornists.”

  Aiden nods. “Thinking about it.”

  “You do that. Cheer yourself up.”

  “Right.”

  Okay then. “You ready to go?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got an appointment with a client who needs a lot of handholding over some intellectual property issues.”

  “Isn’t that always the way?”

  We pay for our drinks and start to get up. As he takes his card back from the bartender, he looks over my shoulder. “Hey, isn’t that your assistant?”

  I turn around. “Where?”

  “Over there.” Aiden gestures with his chin. Sure enough, Yuna is at a table in the southwest corner. An older woman with the s
ame eyes and mouth is with her.

  I really want to go over and say hi. But I don’t want to interrupt her time with her mother. I can always talk with her tomorrow or Monday.

  I start to turn back to Aiden, then freeze when her mom starts flipping portrait photos. They’re large publicity shots. Impossible to miss.

  Did she bring the hundred-candidate list?

  Annoyance knots my gut. Actually, annoyance doesn’t really capture my feeling. It’s not exactly rage. That’s too one-dimensional, although it’s a lot like rage. But there’s also resentment. And jealousy.

  Why isn’t Yuna throwing the photos back in her mom’s face and flipping the table over? Figuratively, of course. The table’s really heavy.

  “I need to go over there,” I say. Screw letting her have time with her mom. I’m putting an end to this ridiculous matchmaking scheme.

  “Your assistant can have some personal time off.” Aiden’s tone is chiding, which is ridiculous, because he works his paralegals like dogs.

  “Not when her mom’s trying to force her to marry some asshole.” I spit out the words like broken glass.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Well, okay, that is kind of weird. But what does it have to do with you?” Then he stops and gives me a penetrating look. “Ohh…”

  “Shut up.”

  “You care about her.”

  “Of course I care about her.” It’s impossible not to feel something around Yuna. She has this magic that draws out emotions I’ve never experienced before. And I love it that she’s emotionally strong and capable of handling herself, especially against my shitty exes and Ella.

  He’s still staring at me. “And you’ve slept with her. Well, well…”

  “It’s called an adult relationship. When you get a girlfriend, you’ll know what I mean.”

  I start toward Yuna’s table. A couple of Asian men with crisp black suits and earpieces move smoothly into my path when I’m about six feet away.

  “I know her.” I point at Yuna. “I just want to say hello.”

  They look at me like I’m a vagrant. Or some kind of stalker, which is insulting. Don’t they know who I am?