Fuck.
I open the door halfway and examine my uninvited guest. She’s wearing a simple denim dress that looks fantastic on her. Her hair smells fresh and clean and it falls smoothly to her shoulders. She’s in heels, but still far from tall, and she is painfully beautiful.
“What are you doing here?” I grouch, not even bothering to hide my deep hatred of surprise visits.
“I wanted to thank you. I got the highest mark in my class, thanks to you.” She waves her grade sheet in front of me.
“You could’ve thanked me on the phone. It certainly would have sufficed,” I say unemotionally, and colors begin to shift in her face.
“Oh…” she looks at me, her eyes confused. “You’re… right. But there was something else. Can I come in?” I block the doorway, determined to keep her outside.
“Look, I don’t know how you got this address, but you can’t be here.”
“That’s odd. Are you sure? Quite the illogical assertion, given the fact that I’m standing right here.” I do not find her asshattery amusing.
“What I mean is that you are unwelcome,” I say bluntly.
“Are you hiding a body in there?” she tries to peek past my shoulder, but I’m blocking most of the space between the door and the wall.
“I sincerely hope she’s still breathing,” I say. Maybe she’ll leave if she thinks I have company.
“Oh!” she blushes violently, and this time she really does seem mortified.
“I suggest that you leave now. There are reporters everywhere. If they get a photo of you on my doorstep there’ll be rumors. You’ll get in trouble with your boyfriend,” I persist, but she doesn’t flinch.
“My boyfriend? Oh, you mean that text you saw?”
I say nothing.
“I wanted to talk to you about that, actually. And… what happened earlier. In your office.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. What happened in my office was a mistake. You’d do well to forget all about it. I have.” Fuck me, I am just barely keeping myself from doing the exact same mistake again.
“I… I see,” she falters. I had to go full asshole, but she’d finally lost some of the confidence that carried her right up to my sinking ship.
“Still, I felt obligated to explain that text you saw.”
“You owe me nothing,” I make my voice cold, harsh. “I honestly don’t care.”
I manage a shrug. She looks up at me, wounded.
“You’re right, I shouldn’t have come.” She combs her hand through her hair. I know enough now to recognize the gesture as a reaction to nervousness or discomfort. Both, I think, in this case.
“Excuse me. You have company, and it’s bad manners to keep you. I’ll be leaving now.”
She turns her back to me and I grab her arm and turn her back toward me.
She raises big, startled eyes at me and nibbles on her lower lip. I want her, Christ, I want her so much.
“Bad manners?” I actually laugh. “You show up in the middle of the night at the apartment of a man you hardly know, and you want to talk about manners? There’s no one else here. Feel free to come in and check if you like.”
I have no idea why I said that dumb fucking sentence. Her presence is turning my brain into mush.
She locks her gaze onto mine. Neither of us yields.
She wouldn’t dare.
Her eyes are defiant as she takes a step forward. They never leave my face – she is searching me for a reaction to her movement. I move back and let her step forward, where no woman has gone before. Alarms go off in my head.
There is a woman in my apartment
It is not just any woman
Mi-Ok is in my apartment
I need her to leave
Right now
She takes off her heels when she enters and looks around. I stand there, paralyzed, watching as she invades my private territory. She stands in front of the glass display that holds my swimming medals and awards. She seems impressed by that crap.
“Have you seen enough? Would you like to check the bedroom, as well? It’s at the end of the second-floor corridor,” I tilt my head in the appropriate direction. “Feel free to take your clothes off and wait in bed for me. I’ll be along when I’m done watching this fascinating TV show you so annoyingly interrupted me in the middle of.” I’m being vulgar. It’s intentional.
She raises a petrifying gaze at me.
“You’re good-looking, clever, rich – but you behave like a dick. You were spoiled as a child, I’m guessing, and now you’re an entitled brat of an adult,” she snaps at me, and I lose it and charge at her and press her against the wall. Her eyes grow large and startled. I don’t care. She shouldn’t have come here. She shouldn’t have entered my apartment just to prove that she could.
“You think having money makes for a spoiled childhood? Let me tell you how well that turned out,” I bite back. “When I was seven years old, my father got himself a lover and so my mother shot herself in the brain. So if you thought your mother was being innovative, you should know mine did it first.” Her face contorts in pain, and I am hating every second of it, but still I can’t stop. “After my dad married said lover, she made my life miserable. Domineering. Overbearing. I swam for six hours every single day. At school I had to bribe other kids with snacks so they’d want to be friends with the kid whose mom killed herself. And that’s still happening, only today they use me for booze and women instead of snacks – and the women?” I choke out a bitter laugh. “They couldn’t care less about me. They just want to be rich. Famous. So I actually have pretty good reasons not to trust anyone. Not that I owe anyone, including you, a goddamn explanation. So why don’t you just get the fuck out of here,” by this point I’m no longer talking to her, but barking at her; and while I’m pointing at the door, I realize that I’ve actually trapped her between me and the wall without noticing.
I’m not sure, at this point, which of us looks more terrified. I back off and rake both of my hands through my hair, frustrated. I’ve never confessed like this to anyone.
“What happened to your mother is… terrible. And tragic. The rest is a pile of bullshit.” She places her hand on my arm and looks at me compassionately. I don’t need her pity.
“Bullshit?” I glare at her furiously.
“Yeah, bullshit. Oh no, you got sent to a bunch of swim lessons? Sounds tough.” She laughs derisively. “Do you know what I would have given, as a kid, so my parents would be wealthy enough to pay for swim lessons? You have no idea how lucky you are. Ever think maybe those women are only after money and fame because they know that’s all you’ll ever be able to give them? But wait – you are right about one thing. If there’s no one in this world that you trust, you’re even more miserable than I am. But you did this. You chose to be a victim of your past. Remember that.”
She slams the door behind her, and I stand there, stupefied. The truth is, I’m flustered – this girl really rattled me. I can’t believe she came in here. I can’t believe I let her in and told her all those dumb fucking things, those personal, embarrassing things. Thank god she’s gone – I don’t think I could look her in the eye after spewing all that nonsense.
I crumble back into the sofa I’d risen from not half an hour ago, feeling lonelier than I’d ever felt. Her harsh words cling to me and won’t leave.
I move up my flight to Taiwan in the hopes that I’ll forget she even exists by the time I get back – still, at the same time, the possibility of never seeing her again makes me feel physically ill.
Chapter Twelve
I’d barely taken my phone off airplane mode when it buzzes.
“You need to come to my hotel, now.” Jeremy sounds as if his life depends on it.
“I literally just got back from Taiwan – which, by the way, was exhausting,” I whine, without mentioning that I too
k great pains to keep Taiwan exhausting because it was the only way to muzzle the emotions I now apparently have for a certain girl, who had somehow managed to get under my skin.
These past few days have been a rollercoaster of nonstop, Jeremy-style sexual conquest, no holds barred. But none of the women involved could have calmed the uncontrollable need I have for Mi-Ok. They were like fast food – I was starving and there they were, on the way. But they weren’t the gourmet meal I crave.
“No joke. Get over here, man.” Jeremy sounds nervous. He might be in a tricky double-date situation – and, while I am momentarily tempted, sex is not a priority right now. I’ve had my share of fucking over the last few days, and I just want to get back home, take a shower and catch a few hours of sleep before another busy day begins in the morning.
“I’m serious. You need to come, now. It’s Mi-Ok.” That’s all I need to hear. I order my driver to get to the Hilltop as fast as possible. Jeremy opens the door to the suite and immediately moves aside to let me rush in. He runs his hand through his head and nods toward the king-size bed in the middle of the room.
Mi-Ok is lying on the bed, injured and bruised in a torn black dress.
“What have you done to her, you bastard,” I punch him in the face, and he reels back until he hits the wall. “Tell me what you’ve done.” I grab his shirt collar and strangle him. Unspeakable thoughts are swirling through my head. By the looks of her it’s clear that whatever he did, she did not consent to.
He pushes me back and wipes the blood from him lips. “Wasn’t me! You think that’s something I’d do? Hit a girl?”
“Tell me how this happened. Right now, before I call the police.” I glare at him, furious, meaning every word. If he had anything do with this, he will not be getting away with it.
“I was in the club, dancing with a really cute—”
“I don’t give a fuck who you were dancing with. Get to the part about why she looks like this.”
“She was there too – she came with a guy. Good-looking, tall. Goatee.” Yeah. I know the guy.
“They seemed pretty close. But the guy was all hands, and he stayed right on top of her the whole time. I could tell she wasn’t into him – she kept trying to put some distance between them. At some point I guess she wanted to leave, and they got into a fight. I don’t know what you had to do with that, but your name came up a few times. I heard something about the looks you’d given her at some ceremony, and a bunch of expensive dresses.”
Idiot – how could I be such an idiot? He must’ve seen the dresses and lost it.
Then, it was my fault. Whatever happened to her, I’m to blame.
Me.
“She took off and he went after her, looking pissed and stupid. I asked the girl I was with to wait for me by the bar – wouldn’t be surprised if she’s still there,” he cracks a grin, but it evaporates when he sees the look on my face.
“… Anyway. They were both gone by the time I got outside. Believe me, I was very close to getting back to the girl waiting at the bar and forgetting the whole thing, but then I remembered seeing him fiddle with some car keys earlier, so I ran to the parking lot. He had dragged her there. By the time I found them her dress was torn and he was trying to rape her. And he would have, too, if I hadn’t shown up.”
I throw a furious punch into the wall. My jaw is tight with anger and pain. Now the wall is smeared with my blood.
“That seems painful,” Jeremy sighs.
“This pain, believe me, is absolutely nothing compared to what that piece of shit will feel when I get my hands on him.”
“If it’s any consolation, I kicked the crap out of him. Might’ve broken some ribs, even. But helping her took precedence and I had to let him get away.”
“Thank you for your help,” she thanks him brokenly from the bed, and her eyes flutter open. She is shivering, and her eyes are full of shame when she looks at us.
My heart can’t help but crack at the sight of the fresh scrapes and bruises on her pale skin. I’m slightly nauseated to spot the looks Jeremy occasionally sends at her torn bra. He’s checking her out? Now?! Is it actually possible to be that much of an asshole? I approach her and delicately pull the blankets over her, making sure she’s covered. She is still shaking, even under the covers, and I get up and ransack the closets until I discover where the goddamn maid left the spare blankets.
“Find another room for the night. And turn up the heating on your way out,” I tell Jeremy, and wait until I hear the door clicking shut behind him before I carefully gather her into my arms and carry her into the bathroom. I set her down on the closed toilet seat and adjust the water temperature in the shower.
“Take your time. Here’s a bathrobe, and later I’ll find you some clean clothes. I’ll be right outside this door if you need me.”
When she comes out, she’s in a white bathrobe which contrasts sharply with her red skin. She’d either showered in scalding hot water or rubbed her skin raw with the need to clean herself of that bastard’s touch.
“You should probably rest… try to get some sleep. I’ll watch over you,” I say from the chair, unmoving.
“Maybe lie here next to me.” It’s a statement, not a question. She gestures to the space on the bed beside her and I inhale and cautiously stand up.
“Are you sure? That might not be the best idea, after what you’ve just been through.” She nods, slightly embarrassed, and I lie down on my side next to her, facing her, making sure to maintain a reasonable distance between us.
I take a lock of her hair in my fingers and stroke it until she dozes off. When she’s fast asleep, I roll over to my back and listen to her shallow breathing. She suddenly rolls over as well, in her sleep. Her palm comes to rest on my chest and her leg slides between both of mine. If this were any other night I’d be primed for action by now, but I just lie there beneath her, still and silent, hoping she’ll be okay.
I didn’t want to be there when she woke up. So now I’m sitting in my office and staring at my phone. I set her alarm to 9AM so it should be waking her in precisely three seconds.
She will then see the aspirin and glass of water I’d left on the bedside table, and find clean clothes folded on the chair. She will read the note I’d left, explaining that I had to go to an important meeting, really I had to; and that she has the room for as long as she needs, and how livid I’ll be if she doesn’t order some room service for breakfast. I estimate she’ll be calling me in about ten seconds. I stare at my phone and count them as they elapse.
Nine. Ten… thank Christ, there it goes. “How are you this morning?”
“Hurting,” she whispers. “But mostly grateful.”
“Did you find the aspirin?”
“Yeah. Already took it.”
Good girl.
“I’m stuck in meetings until noon, but I’m taking you to lunch the moment I’m done here.”
“I have to study,” she attempts.
“And I have to work. And we both have to eat,” I try again.
“Okay… if you insist.” I’m concerned. She sounds exhausted.
“I do. Now, you have one final, vital decision to make – are you a salad person or a steak person?”
“Steak, of course.”
“Excellent.”
Despite her declaration about the steak, she barely touches it. She doesn’t seem to have much of an appetite. She also seems to be avoiding direct eye-contact with me. The silence between us soon grows awkward.
“I’d like to take you to the police station,” I break the silence after a while. “So you can file charges.” She finally looks at me, apparently horrified at my suggestion. She forcefully shakes her head, alarmed.
“I won’t be filing any charges,” she informs me, and I push away my plate, having inexplicably lost my appetite as well.
“Why would you even
say something like that? If you’re afraid he’ll come after you, don’t be. I’ve taken care of it. You’ll be protected.” She looks to the side and notices the large man in the black suit. He nods at her courteously.
“I appreciate the thought. But I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“Will you please just come to the station with me?” I ask again. “Pieces of shit like that should be taken off the streets.”
She opens her mouth to reply but closes it again. She bites her lower lip, hard, nearly hard enough to break skin. She is clearly struggling to find the words.
“He was right to be angry.” She’s taking the blame? Fuck that. I can’t sit here and listen to this crap.
“How? How is he ‘right’? Because I sent you some dresses? In what insane world is that a satisfactory excuse for what he did to you?” I need her to understand how irrational she’s being. She’s actually defending this asshole. It’s enough to make me feel slightly crazy.
“I can’t press charges, he’s… he was… my best friend.” She wipes away an unruly tear when she makes the correction to past tense. “When I lost my mom, he was there for me, supported me. And he never lied about the way he felt about me. I’m the one who led him on, I should’ve told him I could never see him as anything more than a friend. It must’ve been terrible for him, seeing all those expensive dresses.”
Oh, terrible. Like he’s some poor little puppy. I’m about to puke. Did she actually end up pitying him? Unbelievable.
“Try to imagine how that must’ve felt. You’d go crazy too, wouldn’t you?”
She’s trying to force me into his shoes, but I can’t play that game. Ever since Lee Sung there’s been no woman I cared that much about. Not that any of that matters, since I’d never force myself on anyone, ever.
She fiddles nervously with the napkin on her lap, and eventually takes a deep breath and says, “He’s been waiting a really long time.”
“Waiting?” I don’t follow.
“To be…” her hands drop the napkin and rise to cover her face. She mumbles something incoherent. I can’t make it out.
The Bubble Match Page 8