The Billionaire and the Runaway Bride

by Nadia Lee

  So he needs more prep time. That’s fine. I can be patient.

  The presents are piled high. I recognize which ones are from Mom because they’re professionally wrapped with golden ribbons, which are her signature. But they aren’t her real gifts. She’s going to give me her real one in an envelope later. Most likely land or some stock. Maybe even cash. Some cash would be great, because if it’s real estate or stock, it’ll be structured in some complex setup that’ll be very complicated to liquidate in case I ever get into another “we froze your accounts” situation.

  I open the gifts from my friends first.

  A custom platinum and diamond pendant from Ivy that reads Sisterhood in Korean. I immediately put that around my neck and smile. “It’s perfect.”

  “It totally is, because I have the other one.” Ivy pulls hers out from under her neckline.

  “Woohoo!” I grin, my heart full of all the warm, squishy feelings.

  A small guardian angel statue from Tony.

  “You’re always looking out for your friends,” he says.

  “Hear, hear!” the rest of the gang agree in unison.

  “Aww, thanks. But you guys look out for me too!” I hug him.

  Nate and Evie give me a music box shaped like a grand piano, made with pale mother-of-pearl. As the piano turns, it shimmers like the moon. Debussy’s “Claire de lune” flows out, as light as air.

  “This is so beautiful! I love it!” I say.

  I open more, and they’re all super sweet and thoughtful. Edgar’s makes me burst out laughing because it’s a snow globe with a female warrior inside. She has flowing auburn hair and is throwing a ball of flame.

  “I couldn’t do the napalm. Apparently, you don’t throw it with your hands,” he deadpans. “So I settled for a giant flame ball.”

  I’m laughing so hard that my shoulders are shaking and I have tears in my eyes. “You rock! This is literally the bomb!”

  Court and Pascal’s gift is a gorgeously framed…something. It looks like writing, but I don’t recognize the language. “This looks great, guys,” I say. “But, um…what is it?”

  “A poem in Klingon!” Court says. “A translation is on the back. It’s about friendship and love.”

  “We wrote it together,” Pascal says.

  I turn the thing over, and sure enough, there’s a nice poem in English on the back. But Court and Pascal are huge Star Trek fans, and frankly, the Klingon version looks cooler. “This is awesome! I’ll definitely bring you guys along when I travel around the galaxy.”

  It takes over half an hour to open all the gifts, comment and thank each person. I could do it faster, but I pace myself, making sure Declan has plenty of time to get ready for the cake surprise.

  When we’re busy tossing ripped wrapping paper into the trash can, I quickly check my phone. Sure enough, there are some messages.

  –Dad: Happy birthday, my daughter! We need to have a party when you’re back in Korea. By the way, I’m giving you a small bit of real estate. I must warn you, the lot is fairly modest, so it might be disappointing.

  I shake my head at Dad’s coy disclaimer about the land. It’s likely to be something amazing.

  –Me: Thanks, Dad. I love you!

  The next text…

  –Asshole: Wish I were there to wish you a happy birthday in person. But our attorney should be in touch with you about the gift.

  Oops. I should change the name back to Eugene. If he’s saying our attorney’s going to get in touch, it’s definitely real estate. Again, in some complex trust that I won’t be able to liquidate at will. But land appreciates, and I like getting appreciable assets from my family on my birthdays.

  –Me: Thanks!

  Then a final text… It arrived about an hour ago.

  –Declan: Happy birthday! I’m in a meeting right now with a director, but I’ll be there soon!

  A meeting? This wasn’t on his calendar. Also, how soon is “soon”? It’s been over an hour. Part of me wonders if he has to have the meeting right now. Another part of me wonders if the meeting was scheduled to end by six but is running late. That’s totally possible.

  Whatever. It doesn’t matter as long as he gets here. He helped plan the party, so there’s no way he’ll miss it.

  “What’s wrong?” Mom asks.

  I jerk my head up. “Huh?”

  “You’re frowning.”

  “Oh. No, just checking something.”

  “Did your dad and Eugene send presents?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I told them maybe you need something to make yourself a bit more financially solid. We simply can’t have another ‘Yuna needs to get a job’ situation.”

  I think she’s less upset about me working than me meeting a man she doesn’t approve of while working. She’s trying to control my life as much as possible because she wants to ensure I don’t make mistakes or get hurt, but she needs to understand she can’t control my feelings.

  “Where’s Declan?” Mom asks. “He knows it’s your birthday, doesn’t he?”

  I sense a slight undertone of disapproval. She’s likely thinking about what I said about things I want from my man, and she’s judging Declan.

  “He said he’ll be here soon,” I say confidently. He isn’t like the dossier men or Eugene, who live like their sole purpose in life is to work until they drop.

  “I hope so. The party won’t go on forever.”

  Dinner and dancing and chatting ensue. But Declan doesn’t show. And no text or call. But he said he’d be here, so…

  Eventually, I can delay the cake no longer. A birthday party without a cake is like an orchestra without a conductor. I signal to Ivy we should go ahead with it.

  Bobbi brings out the cake. It’s a three-tier pink buttercream and fondant piece of art. Each tier has a different theme—friendship, music and love. On the top is a group of modeling chocolate figurines representing each of my friends, Mom and Declan, all with their arms spread. They’re arranged in a half-circle around a swirly “Happy Birthday, Yuna!” in deep purple.

  It’s stunning, and part of me is touched at the effort and thought that went into the design of the cake, but another part is unhappy that Declan isn’t here in person. Just in effigy, on the top of the cake as a modeling chocolate figurine.

  Well. He said he’d be here soon, so I’m sure he’ll show up. The party isn’t over yet. There might’ve been an accident or something. And this is L.A. It’s not like traffic isn’t a factor.

  Candles are lit, and a chorus of “Happy Birthday” goes up. I smile. My friends did an amazing job, and I don’t want to ruin the moment by showing that I’m upset about Declan’s absence.

  “Make a wish!” Ivy says.

  I blow out the candles, but all I can think about is that Declan’s still not here, and I shouldn’t be wasting my birthday wish on Declan being here because he should’ve been here on his own.

  If I was really important to him, he would be here.

  “I hope you wished for something awesome, because you deserve it,” Tony says with a smile.

  “Oh, I did,” I say, ensuring my tone is light.

  Bobbi cuts into the cake. Everyone gets a piece.

  “God, this is like mouth porn,” Nate says.

  I agree after a bite. “This is incredible, Bobbi. Thank you. You did an amazing job.”

  “I’m glad you’re happy.” Bobbi hugs me. “I wanted it to be special for you.”

  Behind her, Tony’s checking his phone and frowns a little.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Somebody’s at the gate,” he says.

  A few moments later, the doorbell rings.

  Finally! All my anxiety and annoyance over Declan evaporate. Before anybody can move, I trot toward the door, eager to have him join the party. He’s going to apologize sheepishly for being late, and I’ll forgive him after a minute of consideration designed to make him squirm a little. That’ll be my little revenge for his tardiness.r />
  When I reach the door, I realize I’m still holding the plate of cake and a fork. I balance them in one hand and open it.

  “Decla…” I trail off.

  It’s not Declan at the door. It’s some man I’ve never seen before. There’s something slightly smarmy and artificial about him. It’s the teeth. They’re so huge and white, I feel blinded.

  “Sorry we’re late.” His breath is minty enough that my eyes water. “A mild traffic jam, but your car’s here.”

  “My car?” Did Eugene send me a car? But he knows I don’t drive. Besides, if he sent me a car, why did he say our lawyer would get in touch?

  “Isn’t this the right address for Yuna Hae?”

  “Well… Yeah,” I say, although technically it’s Ivy and Tony’s home.

  My friends come stand behind me. I see Mom out of the corner of my eye.

  “A pink Rolls for the most wonderful lady in the world. From Mr. Declan Winters.” The man does a ta-da gesture at the car with both arms.

  I slowly step toward it. It’s a stunning coupe convertible in a gorgeous, dreamy pink. It even has a giant bow on the hood.

  “Holy shit, the color’s better than what Dane chose for Sophia,” Nate whispers.

  I crane my neck, a desperate hope flickering in my heart. Declan’s probably hiding behind the car, ready to jump out with flowers and hug me, so I can tell him how much I love it. But no. Nobody’s behind the car or next to the car or under the car or anywhere around the car.

  It’s just this convertible.

  And what the hell am I going to do with this thing, anyway? I can’t drive it, and I can’t have a chauffeur for it, either. It isn’t for that sort of arrangement.

  “That’s some gift,” Mom says, her voice neutral. She loves me too much to rub it in my face, even if she now gets to set me up with that man she wants me to meet so much.

  My whole body is shaking. I realize I’m holding the plate so hard that the tips of my nails have turned white.

  Rage builds like a storm. Air inside my lungs is hot and painful. I expel it with effort, then stomp down on a furious scream that’s welling inside my chest.

  Declan sent me a fucking car. After he said he’d be here. He promised. I still have his text!

  I guess whatever meeting he has is really important—it’s his career. But my birthday is one day out of three hundred and sixty-five. And he only needs to be here for about an hour, that’s it. A tiny sliver of his year.

  If he cared about me at all, he could spare that much time for me.

  But guess it’s too much to ask. He spent more time having sex with me than showing up for this party and wishing me a happy birthday.

  I jab the fork into my piece of cake and hurl it at the car. It explodes against the windshield, yellow sponge cake and pink frosting splattering like brain matter.

  A collective gasp goes up around me. And the festive energy in the air that surrounded us dies an abrupt death.

  I turn around deliberately and smile even though I feel like crying. I’m not wasting my tears on Declan. If I’m not worth less than one percent of his year, he’s not worth even a drop of my tears.

  Besides, I still have my friends. They’re all looking at me with their eyes wide with uncertainty and sympathy. They put in a lot of work to make this day special. So I’m going to put on a happy face and have a good time.

  “Sorry, Bobbi. Your cake deserved better treatment.” My voice is surprisingly steady and calm. Score one for me!

  “Well…there’s a lot more,” she says, patting my back awkwardly. “And my cake is guaranteed to come off in a car wash.”

  “Let’s go inside.” I start walking back to the mansion. “I want to dance, don’t you?”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Declan

  It’s after eight thirty by the time I’m able to get away. A short meeting, my ass! To make things worse, I could only text Yuna once because my damned phone battery died. Fuck!

  The whole thing was a clusterfuck. Josh wanted to brag about what an amazing human being and director he is. He only had one drink at the bar. It’s amazing how a man can heap praise on himself, like it’s a church sermon. I felt like he wanted me to say amen and offer a tithe.

  After spending half an hour on that, Josh finally started to talk about the project. He said when he saw me in Pushing His Buttons, he knew I had to play the lead. Tim said I have other possible projects—probably to raise my value in Josh’s eyes. Josh regarded me seriously for a moment, then said nonsense because his is more important.

  I knew Josh Fields had an ego, but I didn’t know just how big it was until today.

  As the talk was winding down—Josh finally having run out of good things to say about himself—Melvin saw us and the meeting turned into a shit show. Apparently he and Josh don’t get along because Josh stole Melvin’s talent some time back.

  Josh said it wasn’t his fault Melvin’s an autocratic asshole with the talent.

  Melvin said Josh is a bottom-feeding scumbag, then added that he wanted me in his spy flick and demanded a firm commitment.

  Pissed that Melvin was “poaching his talent,” Josh issued the same ridiculous ultimatum.

  Tim jumped to mediate, which went about as well as trying to teach the concept of sharing to a couple of hungry puppies fighting over a bone.

  And I couldn’t leave with Melvin and Josh each grabbing one of my arms and arguing with each other and telling me what to expect if I work with them.

  They only stopped when Tim said we can make a decision after we talk contracts and money. Josh and Melvin both said they’d send contracts on Monday.

  My head hurts, but thinking about Yuna makes the throbbing recede. Hopefully, the party’s still going on. Or at least Yuna’s still there. I want to tell her how sorry I am. Hopefully my present made her feel better.

  After sticking my uselessly dead phone into the charger, I speed through traffic and reach the Blackwoods’ home in under thirty minutes. I use the guest code Tony gave me for the gates and park in front of the mansion. No pink Rolls. Did someone move it to the garage?

  Or maybe Yuna took it out for a quick drive. Who wouldn’t, if they got a car that sweet?

  I climb out of my Lamborghini and go to the door. Many of the windows are dark, but the party’s happening in the piano room, like Ivy said. The door’s locked. I ring and wait, trying not to pace to burn off the nervous energy.

  After a moment, the door opens and Ivy and Tony appear on the other side.

  “What are you doing here? The party started over three hours ago,” Tony says stiffly.

  Ivy is glaring at me like I’m some sort of human cockroach. “And now it’s over. It’s been over for an hour.”

  Damn it. I bite back a curse. I fucked up bad. “I’m so sorry. I got caught in a meeting. It wasn’t supposed to go that long, but things went out of control.”

  “Yuna waited for you,” Ivy says, pointing a finger. “Do you know what it felt like for her to have you not show? And that car!”

  What’s the problem with it? It’s a great vehicle. “Yuna doesn’t have a car yet. I thought she’d like her own, and pink is one of her favorite colors.”

  “Oh my God! You’re an idiot!”

  Since she’s right about me being an idiot tonight, I let her rant on. I have no excuse for missing the party. It’s the first birthday of Yuna’s that we were going to celebrate together.

  Tony stands next to her in silence. But his disapproving face is eloquent enough.

  “She can’t drive!” Ivy yells finally.

  “She can’t drive?” I ask, dumbfounded. “How can she not know how to drive?”

  “Because she just doesn’t, okay?”

  “But she has a driver’s license…” I thought she said she had one. Or I could be misremembering, but… How can someone not know how to drive and live in L.A.? It’s so inconvenient.

  “In Korea, yes! Which she doesn’t use. She has a chauffeur for a
reason!”

  I thought Mr. Choi was mainly for her safety. “Ah… Shit.”

  The monumental nature of my fuck-up is beginning to become apparent. I cover my eyes with a hand. The car is as useful as a chunk of rock to Yuna.

  Ivy steps forward and jabs me in the chest. “I’m going to spell it out for you, since obviously somebody has to. Yuna just wants someone to be there for her and care about her, the way she would for them. That’s why she’s refusing to marry any of the men her family selected. She doesn’t see that happening with them. I feel like an idiot for cheering you on because I thought you really cared about her. When you volunteered to help with the party prep, I thought it meant you are willing to put in the time, which is priceless.”

  “Is she here?” I need to talk to Yuna in person. Now.

  “No.”

  “Where is she?”

  “At the hotel with her mother. Who, by the way, was here to see the entire fiasco in person.”

  Shit, shit, shit. Lady Min already thinks I’m unworthy, and this will only reconfirm her opinion. But what I hate more than that is how much I must have hurt Yuna. I should’ve just told Tim I couldn’t see Josh Fields today, no matter how much my agent wanted me to or how busy Josh is next week.

  Because that meeting wasn’t worth missing Yuna’s birthday party or making her think I don’t care about her.

  “Yuna tried so hard to act like it didn’t matter, only because she didn’t want to ruin the party for the rest of us. You don’t understand what kind of an angel she is. What a privilege it is to be in her tight circle of friends. You could’ve been one of the closest people in her life, but you threw it away over a meeting.” Ivy’s voice is vicious as she pours it all out.

  She’s doing a great job of cutting me down. And I deserve it.

  “Okay. I get it. And thank you for letting me know.” I take a step back. “I need to go talk to her. Right now. Excuse me.”

  Ivy looks at me like she can’t decide between anger and pity. “Don’t be shocked if she refuses to see you!”

  Chapter Fifty

  Declan