The Billionaire and the Runaway Bride

by Nadia Lee

Yuna’s mom’s eyes remain coolly assessing as she smiles at me. “Good evening. Please have a seat.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for long.”

  “No. I was enjoying the view. Los Angeles is beautiful.” She gestures at the slim menu. “Would you like to order something to drink?”

  Why does her suggestion sound like a prelude to battle? “No, thank you.” I doubt the restaurant would poison my wine, but I should have all my faculties sharp and ready.

  “It’s all right. I had the entire place reserved, and they’re going to serve as much as we want.”

  She had every table at Angelina reserved? What the hell’s going on here? And why is she so eager to pump me full of alcohol?

  “I’m all right,” I say.

  “Very well, then.” She takes something out of her purse and slides it across the table.

  I glance down and note it’s a thin white envelope. It should be innocuous, except it looks as dangerous as a pissed-off scorpion.

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  “Just some compensation for you leaving my daughter.” Yuna’s mom speaks like a queen bestowing a favor on a peasant.

  What the fuck? Yuna talked about her family paying off an old boyfriend to make him go away, but I never imagined it would happen to me. It’s beyond insulting. It’s infuriating!

  I want to throw the damn envelope in Lady Min’s face along with a few four-letter words, but I maintain control. Barely.

  She’s Yuna’s mother. Don’t lose your temper. Don’t lose your temper…

  I inhale a few times to calm myself. It doesn’t work very well.

  “I’m sure you understand,” Lady Min says.

  “I’d like for you to understand that I’m not leaving her.” I say it as evenly as I can.

  She raises an eyebrow, then lifts a hand. The woman who asked me about seafood allergies on Saturday steps forward and places another envelope on the table. A large, thick one with a metal clasp.

  “Inside is the deed to a four-bedroom penthouse in Manhattan. It’s quite lovely,” Yuna’s mom says. “You can keep the money and the real estate if you’ll break things off with my daughter.”

  I manage to swallow a response just in time. A fucking penthouse in New York City? She’s that desperate to get rid of me?

  I can’t decide if I should be insulted or flattered that she’s placed such a price on my leaving Yuna. At least Yuna won’t be sad she’s only worth two hundred K. But I need to make things clear to the woman in front of me.

  “Ma’am, there’s nothing you can give me that’s going to make me leave your daughter.”

  She gives me a level look and takes her time answering. “You realize, of course, that you’re utterly wrong for her,” she says finally.

  “Why? Because I’m white? Not Korean, so not culturally compatible?”

  “That isn’t even in the top five reasons.” She sighs. “Very well. I hate to dig into old wounds, but you’re the product of an affair your father had while he was married.”

  I inhale sharply. If she hates to dig into wounds, she should’ve never brought that up. Mainly because I hate what the affair did to my own mother. On the other hand, out of all the objections Lady Min could’ve had, this one feels rather random. It has nothing to do with my own actions. I don’t flaunt it, but I don’t hide it, either, because I have nothing to feel ashamed of. “So?”

  “So that makes you illegitimate.”

  “And? It isn’t like Phillip had any money to leave me.” He didn’t die broke, but he wasn’t swimming in money, either. Not like Yuna’s family.

  “It’s not about an inheritance.” Lady Min gestures at her assistant.

  She steps forward. “In Korea, illegitimacy is bad form and not easily accepted. As one example, Korean men are obligated to serve in the military. The only way to get an exemption is for a compelling medical reason. Illegitimacy was considered one of those reasons until 1992.”

  “Wasn’t it good that you weren’t forced to serve?” I ask, not sure what this is about.

  “No. It means that, until recently, they were so despised socially that not even the military wanted to use them as human shields. Furthermore, adultery was a criminal offense in Korea until 2016. Ms. Hae has no reason to stoop low enough to date somebody illegitimate, much less born out of adultery.”

  I turn to Lady Min, stunned at this medieval attitude. It takes me a moment before I can speak. “Look. Ma’am. It wasn’t my fault or my decision that I was born the way I was. Maybe you should look at what I’ve accomplished with my own choices and actions.”

  Yuna’s mom’s expression stays cool, although something shifts briefly in her eyes. “And your sister threw away a dog. What your family does says so much about you.”

  “First, she’s a half-sister. And second, unlike her, I love dogs. I donate regularly to a seeing eye dog retirement center in Japan because I love dogs, and dogs that served their owners with love and loyalty should be rewarded.”

  She purses her lips, looking annoyed that I’m pushing back. But if she thinks I’ll roll over like some of Yuna’s exes, she’s got me totally wrong.

  “You thrive on publicity and scandals,” she says finally.

  “Publicity, sure. Scandals, no. You’ve obviously looked into me quite thoroughly. Can you point to a single scandal I’ve been involved in?” I do my best to keep my reputation clean. I also don’t do drugs or anything that could impact my performance, because nobody likes to work with models and actors who aren’t reliable and ready to go. And a clean rep means you have an easier time getting endorsement deals.”

  Yuna’s mom lets out an irritated sigh. “I don’t know why you’re arguing. Just take the money and the penthouse. It’s a profitable way to end a short, meaningless fling. It isn’t like you’re going to marry her.”

  I inhale sharply at the aggressive way Yuna’s mom brings up marriage, basically saying that if I’m not going to marry Yuna, I should fuck off.

  It isn’t the first time somebody’s brought up marriage. My exes hinted at it. Some of my acquaintances asked if I was going to tie the knot with some of my exes. But I always knew the answer was no, because my first reaction was mild revulsion or a lack of interest in a long-term future with any of them.

  But when that future includes Yuna…

  Waking up to her smile. Whispering good morning before breakfast. Growing old with her. Kissing every fine line on her face as we build our lives together…

  A hot fist clenches around my heart. A sharp, intense longing wells deep inside me. The vision in my head feels so damn fucking right. I know if I don’t hold on to her, I’m never going to find another woman like her, one who fills my heart with joy and laughter.

  “Actually, I can see myself marrying her. She’s the only woman I can see a future with,” I say steadily to ensure no misunderstanding. No presumption that I’m saying it just to say it.

  “Many want to marry her for what she has and represents, and they usually bring something of at least equal value,” Yuna’s mom points out. But there’s no heat or argument in her tone.

  “Not me. I want her, not her money or whatever.”

  “If you care about her enough to consider marrying her, what have you done to pamper her? What do you know about her likes and dislikes?”

  “I know she likes pretty, shiny things. She loves her friends and family. And she loves food.”

  “Oh? She’s been in the States for over three weeks, and she’s been working for you all this time. Have you taken her anywhere decent? Fed her her favorite Korean food, perhaps?”

  Actually…I haven’t taken her to any Korean restaurants. Also…is there more to Korean cuisine than barbecue? That’s all I’m aware of. There must be more, but I don’t even know what kind of Korean food she likes.

  Then I remember what Yuna said about food and romance tropes in Korea. Never let it be said I don’t rectify what’s lacking when somebody kindly point
s it out.

  I stand. “If that’s all you have to say, I’m leaving now.”

  I walk away without waiting for her response, my head held high and eyes straight ahead. As I reach the lobby, my phone rings. I pull it out, wondering if it’s Ms. Lim calling to salvage the ruined meeting. From Yuna’s mom’s point of view, this entire meeting has to have been a failure. From where I stand, it wasn’t a total waste because I learned something about Yuna. She probably misses food from her home country.

  But no… It’s Chantel.

  “Hello?” I say.

  “Declan, sweetie.” Her voice is taut. “My God. It’s awful, just awful.”

  “What is it?” I ask gently.

  “I…um…had an incident…?”

  What the hell happened? She’s never like this. “What incident?”

  “Well. The fact is I got distracted and drove right into a tree.”

  “Holy shit! Are you all right?”

  “Yes, of course. I think so.”

  “Where are you? Did you call 911? You should go to the hospital and get yourself checked out. Sometimes you can be hurt more than you realize.”

  “Maybe tomorrow. Right now, I’m too shaken up to drive. Not that I have anything to drive, since my car’s a mess.”

  “I’ll take you.”

  “No, no. You don’t have to. I already called an Uber to take me home. But I think the car may be totaled. I’m going to need a new one.”

  “Of course. You still have something you can drive, though, right?”

  “I think so. The old Audi should be okay.” She has an Audi I bought her for Christmas five years ago.

  She’s breathing hard and sounds unsteady. I should go see her and make sure she’s okay. “You know what? I’m coming right now. Tell me where you are.”

  “No, no, no, that’s not necessary. It isn’t like I’ve never been in an accident, and I know you’re busy. I’ll call the adjuster, but I just need some money, so I can have the car replaced when I get the insurance payout. You know they’ll never give me enough to buy a new one. They’ll claim deprecation.” She sounds so uncomfortable. If voices could squirm, hers would right now.

  I sigh, wishing she’d feel more comfortable about relying on me. At least she called me instead of fretting over whatever meager sum she needs to get the car replaced. “That isn’t a problem. I’ll have my accountant send you some. How much do you need?”

  “About…twenty-five thousand?” Her voice rises with uncertainty.

  She shouldn’t be like this. I’m glad to give her much more, and I make a mental note to make it an even thirty. She can treat herself to something nice with a few extras. “Okay. I’ll have that sent over tomorrow.”

  She sighs. “Thank you. You’re the best, Declan.”

  “My pleasure, Chantel. I’m glad you called. I’m always here for you.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Declan

  I feel terrible about Chantel’s accident, but at the same time, it keeps me from stewing over Lady Min’s proposal.

  Actually, that isn’t entirely true. It’s on my mind. I don’t know what kind of parents go this far to break up their children’s relationships. Yuna’s too old for this sort of manipulation.

  Just look at her, I think as she walks inside the next morning, her bodyguard/chauffeur and assistant following. She’s in a bright pink dress and shoes with tall, skinny heels. All grown up, confident and in control.

  “Good morning.” She smiles, while her people settle down on their usual couch in the living room.

  “Good morning.”

  Should I tell her about what her mother tried to do?

  Lady Min didn’t ask me to keep it quiet, but what she wants wouldn’t be my top concern anyway. The problem is, telling Yuna about my dinner might cause her some pain. Yuna’s sensitive about how her family paid at least one ex-boyfriend off, and I don’t want to upset her for no reason. There’s no way Lady Min can do anything to make me not want to be with Yuna, so why bring it up? I’m not holding what her mom did against her, because—unlike Lady Min—I’m broad-minded like that.

  Mr. Choi is looking at me like I’ve committed treason. He definitely heard from Yuna’s mom, and he doesn’t approve. Why else would he look so unhappy?

  And same for Ms. Kim, who’s doing a better job of hiding it. Somebody should tell her if she purses her mouth, it makes her look a little bit like a puffer fish.

  After breakfast and coffee, Yuna pulls out her personal phone and checks her messages. The sight reminds me of the call I had with Chantel.

  “Yuna, can you call my accountant and have him send thirty K to Chantel?”

  Yuna jerks her head up. “You want your accountant to send how much?”

  “Thirty thousand. Dollars.”

  Her eyebrows pull together. “For Ella’s wedding?”

  “Oh, hell no. No. Chantel got into a car accident, and she needs some money to get a new car.”

  “That’s what insurance is for.” Her voice is stiff.

  That sounds…unusually cold. But then, Yuna’s only interaction with my family is Ella, which was a total shit show. Plus, Yuna’s family is probably insured up to their eyeballs. “First, Ella’s the bad one in the family, not Chantel. And the insurance payout won’t be enough for her to get a new car. Depreciation and all that.”

  “Did the insurance company call you?”

  “No. She did.” The way she’s interrogating me is weird. What’s going on in that pretty head?

  She sighs, her face tight. “I was wondering how I was going to bring this up, but…” She pulls her lips in, like she’s about to confess to having toilet paper trailing out of her underwear at a party.

  “Bring what up?” I prompt her when she’s quiet for too long.

  “Declan, Chantel isn’t a good person. Ella and Chantel are both awful.”

  Although part of me believes that Yuna will have a good reason for saying that, my defenses go up. Chantel is the only person who ever helped me without expecting anything in return. She’s always uncomfortable when I give her gifts.

  “How can you say that?” I work hard to keep my tone even. “You’ve never met Chantel.”

  “Actually, I have.” She taps on her phone. “Listen.”

  I do. And hear two voices, unmistakably Chantel’s and Ella’s. As the recording plays, my stomach starts to feel like it’s sloshing with acid. I grip my phone until I think I can hear it creak under the pressure.

  The worst isn’t what Ella’s saying. I expect her to be hateful. But Chantel… It feels like the ground is shifting under me, and I feel sick.

  “How did you get this? When?”

  Yuna looks uncomfortable as she clears her throat. “Last Sunday. After a facial with Mom, they showed up at the spa. They were talking, and I happened to record it.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  I spoke so nicely to Chantel last night. Like a stupid dumbass. How she must’ve laughed after the call. Bitch!

  I want to direct my ire at Yuna, even though my rational side knows she isn’t at fault. She didn’t make Chantel and Ella say what they said. And if it weren’t for Yuna, I’d still be in the dark. And Chantel would be thirty thousand dollars richer.

  But my emotions seethe like a stormy ocean. I need to control myself before I say or do something stupid, like taking this out on Yuna.

  She peers up at me with a searching expression, like a puppy who isn’t sure if she did something wrong or not. And that helps me tighten the reins on my feelings.

  “I didn’t know how to tell you,” she says finally. “I’m just shocked that she decided to contact you after I made the recording.”

  “Why? She didn’t know I might know.”

  Yuna sighs. “Actually, she probably suspected. I told Ella off. She acted like she didn’t know who I was for sure, but she must have recalled later. She can’t be that dumb.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised.” I drag in a
ir, then let out a long sigh. The shock from hearing the recording is turning into a resolve never to get fucked over again. “Thanks for letting me know. And let me take care of Chantel,” I say, doing my best to sound gentle. “Can you send me the recording?”

  “Sure.”

  She sends me the audio file. I stare at it. It’s amazing how something so small and insubstantial can ruin a bond.

  Not ruin. The bond that I thought was there was fake. It never really existed, so nothing has been ruined.

  Damn it. I’ve been an easy mark.

  I forward the file to Chantel via text, then block her. That done, I text my accountant.

  –Me: Stop all funding going to Chantel Winters immediately. Freeze every account she’s been using that’s under my control. And make sure she can’t use any of my credit cards.

  All of her cards are mine. She’s on them as an authorized user. A moment later, a response arrives.

  –Shawn: What about her house? The lease is under your name.

  –Me: Tell the landlord I need to end the lease effective immediately. Are the utilities under my name?

  –Shawn: Yes. You’ve been getting invoices for them.

  –Me: Cut them off.

  She won’t be happy without water or power. But I’m far beyond giving a fuck.

  –Me: If she tries to contact you, don’t engage with her.

  –Shawn: Understood.

  If he’s curious, he doesn’t ask. But then he usually doesn’t offer an opinion or express curiosity unless it’s to advise me on how to maximize tax deductions.

  I put my phone down. It pisses me off that this is the best I can do. Yuna looks at me with concern.

  “Are you all right?”

  Normally, my answer would be something along the lines of “I’m fine.” But I don’t want to lie to Yuna. “Not really.”

  She squeezes my hand silently. After a moment, she goes to the piano and starts playing the Schubert Impromptu I love so much, the notes flowing out of the huge instrument with the ease of water in a summer stream.

  I watch her play, surrounded by the sun. She seems to know exactly what I need without my having to tell her. And she gives it to me without asking anything in return.