by Anna Premoli
“Good evening!” Mark’s grandmother says. “You look splendid, my dear. What a shame Mark isn’t here to see you.”
My lips twist themselves into a rather tense smile as soon as my boss’s name is mentioned. I restrain myself from letting her know that, if he had been here tonight, I would have thought twice – or ten times – about accepting the invitation. Mark’s mother, with her ethereal, ageless, annoying beauty, looks me over from head to toe without uttering a word. She is wearing a beautiful dark blue dress which, whilst not revealing a centimetre of flesh, clings very tightly to her body, revealing her enviable figure. Her stern gaze falls upon my décolleté and stays there for quite some time. The message reaches me loud and clear. What the poor woman doesn’t know is how lucky she is – if I’d thought I could have got away with it tonight, I would have come in a bikini, so she should consider herself very fortunate indeed!
To compensate for his wife’s complete lack of friendliness, Mark’s father makes a real effort to greet me as he should, beaming cheerfully at me and trying to keep me entertained with some actually quite amusing anecdotes, but I’m saved from this embarrassing moment thanks only to the dancing. I’ve never felt happier spinning around on my heels.
I have always considered the way high society organizes its charity events rather strange. What does it all mean? Wouldn’t it still be considered charity if you collected money dressed in jeans and a shirt? Do we really have to swallow gallons of expensive champagne?
“You know, I didn’t think your family would have been the type to appreciate this sort of social event,” I whisper to Tae Min.
He shrugs resignedly. “Unfortunately we have to. Not only do you need to do charity events, but you also need to force others to do them too,” he explains.
But something confuses me. “What do you mean, you have to?”
He looks at me in a surprised fashion. “Unfortunately, having money also brings with it many obligations…”
“You mean your parents’ money, right?” I ask, alarmed. I’m beginning to guess where this is leading.
“Of course, my parents have control of the biggest lump. But there’s more as well – my grandfather left us something else,” he says, looking somewhat surprised. “I thought you knew about it.”
“No. What is it you thought I knew, exactly?” I ask, sounding slightly resentful.
“Well, when Mark turned thirty he got a pretty big stake in it. Didn’t he tell you that he is the richest bachelor in town? I am still too young, fortunately, but he is basically the target for all the single girls in Korea. And dare I say it, even some of the married ones too,” he adds, raising his eyebrows ironically.
I stop to think for a moment. Good thing Mark is far away this evening, because something tells me that I would probably have ended up strangling him if he had been here. He never trusted me with this piece of information. He didn’t tell me everything. What does he think I am, someone who only cares about money? Mark ought to know me better than that by now and realize that all my jokes about his trust fund are just that – jokes.
If I had wanted to be a kept woman, would I have moved halfway across the world to work fifteen hours a day cooped up in a bloody office?
This discovery has made me very, very, very annoyed. I hastily accept another glass of champagne. To hell with moderation, better to have a drink.
Just as I am imagining all the insults that I would hurl at Mark if he were here, the lord of the manor in person strolls majestically into the room. He is wearing an annoyingly perfect tuxedo that looks as though it were sewn onto him, and he seems to be giving off a kind of glow that makes everyone stop to look at him. All the female heads snap round in his direction with mechanical precision, but I am certain that it’s not the money that is having this effect on these women. Unfortunately.
Mark pauses for a few moments in the middle of the room, quickly looks around at everyone then walks towards me. Now that I think about it, he doesn’t seem at all surprised to see me there.
I, on the other hand, just stand there with my mouth wide open, like a fish out of water.
I watch him coming over towards me and then stop just before he reaches me. He has an enigmatic look on his face that I can’t quite figure out. I need him to open his wonderful mouth and say something. Anything. But he does nothing except look me over. Wouldn’t it be more polite, at least on his part, to say ‘hello’ to me? Of course – like mother like son, I think resentfully.
The prompt arrival of Tae Min breaks the tension. “Hello Mark, I’m pleased to see that you managed to get back in time,” he says, greeting his brother. He doesn’t seem particularly surprised to see him, now that I come to think of it. Yet he still managed to drag me here. I’ll get my revenge on him for this, and it will be slow and painful.
“I had to rush just to be able to get here,” he says. Then his eyes return to me. What the hell is he trying to tell me with that searching look?
“Have you seen how beautiful Maddison looks?” Tae Min says. I would like the ground to swallow me up at that moment. God, the sheer embarrassment of it all.
Mark says nothing, he just coughs. Is that a yes?
“Hello, Mark, I’m glad you managed to make it.” His grandmother has materialized behind us. He greets her with a kiss on the cheek.
“Why don’t you have a dance with this beautiful girl?” The old lady suggests with a smile. As cunning as a fox.
“No thanks,” I hasten to answer.
Mark notes my look of panic and sighs. “See, Grandma, the lady does not want to dance with me.”
“Of course she doesn’t – you haven’t asked her properly! Go on.” She pushes him firmly in my direction.
“Would you like to dance, Maddison?” Mark asks me.
I remain silent trying to think of a suitable answer. Seeing my indecision, he takes my hand and leads me into the middle of the dance floor.
They’re playing something slow or at least that’s what it sounds like. I’m still not a great expert on the local music so I will not hazard a guess.
Before I can change my mind and run away, Mark takes me by the waist and pulls me closer to him, and my nostrils are suddenly filled with his scent. I’d love to be indifferent, but I suspect that my wish isn’t destined to be granted that easily. This chemistry is much stronger than me.
“Everybody’s watching us,” he whispers in my ear. “At least pretend you’re enjoying yourself.”
With a quick glance around the room, I notice that he is right. Ok, he is always right, I think – but that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.
Fairly helplessly, I let him lead me around the dance floor. Not that I really want to resist but I don’t want to seem too enthusiastic about it either. I don’t like the idea of dancing together and I want him to know that without a shadow of a doubt.
“You do look beautiful, though,” he adds, as if nothing has happened, spinning me round.
This is so sudden and unexpected, I’m speechless. I just don’t understand why he said it, so I stammer a ‘thank you’. Things between us are complicated enough without having to fake it as well. I have absolutely no intention of being nice to him.
“You know I would never have agreed to come if I had known that you would end up coming, don’t you?”
He smiles like a bandit. “Of course I do.”
I stamp on his foot. It appears to be an accidental gesture but I want it to be completely clear that it was done in cold deliberation.
“You’re still the same poisonous old viper,” he whispers in his schoolmaster voice. Finally, here’s the Mark I know and love, I don’t know where he had been hiding all this time.
“And you’re the same liar as usual,” I say. “When did you decide not to tell me you’re a millionaire?”
For a second I see genuine astonishment appear on his face. He pulls me even closer as he prepares to defend himself. “I’m not a millionaire, my parents are. That has got no
thing to do with me.”
Excuse me, who exactly does he think he’s talking to? My eyes are full of hatred as I look at him without saying anything.
Luckily for me, the song ends quickly. I immediately pull myself free from his grasp and with a decisive step I head for the bar. I know I shouldn’t, but really, how on Earth can I make it to the end of this maddening evening without more champagne? The Korean people are well known for their love of alcohol and being in their company has transformed me, too. Not that I’m particularly proud of the fact.
Mark comes up to me right away. “I don’t want to insist, because it’s none of my business, but how many glasses have you already downed?” The question is already a rude one, and he asks it in the rudest possible way. He’s deliberately trying to offend me.
“As you said yourself, it’s none of your business,” I reply, using his own words.
“Seeing as everyone here thinks you’re my girlfriend, you might as well be.”
Sometimes I really don’t understand his twisted reasoning. “But I’m not your girlfriend, so keep away from me,” I warn him, waving my hand theatrically for him to go away. For a moment he pauses to reflect on what to do, but then decides to go all the way and irritate me hopelessly. He grabs the full glass from my hand and looks at me teasingly. What does he want from me?
“You have no intention of giving up, then?” I ask him.
“No,” he replies instantly, and I sigh resignedly while I watch him knock back my champagne. And I’m supposed to be the one who’s as stubborn as a mule.
“To be honest, I almost feel like going home. Now that you’re here, no one will notice my absence. The prince has arrived,” I tease him.
“No way. A prince isn’t a prince if he doesn’t have a princess at his side.”
I could almost be taken in by what he says – the words might sound sweet, but I understand that the tone in which they are spoken does not bode well for the evening.
“What if we make a truce?” he says, with a hint of exasperation at my attitude.
“Okay, fine. Seeing as this is a war that I didn’t start…”
“Do you always have to waste your breath by coming out with such absolute nonsense?”
Touché. When does he come up with these phrases, in his sleep?
“No, only when it comes to explaining something to a windbag like you. But I know it’s a waste of time. Imagine his royal highness understanding humble concepts like that…”
Suddenly I am overcome with a great weariness. I am so tired of this situation and I hate the constant arguing, I just don’t have the energy. I don’t have years of training behind me and I don’t even have a natural inclination for it in the first place. Arguing with Mark all the time tires me out and depresses me and part of the blame, I know, is mine: I knew from the beginning that we had nothing in common, I knew that we would never understand each other and that starting ‘something’ with him was stupid. My sixth sense tried to warn me many, many times. But I didn’t do anything… I didn’t want to listen. Or I couldn’t listen. Whichever it was, however, has brought me to the same place.
I press the empty glass that Mark has just given me to my chest and reflect sadly on how I can end this tragic affair of ours once and for all. He watches me suspiciously. I’m not usually the silent type, except when I’m a bit tiddly.
Without saying a word I move away from the bar, not deigning to even look at Mark. Slowly but decisively I walk to the cloakroom.
“Are you leaving?” asks Mark, who must have followed me.
“I think it would be for the best, given the circumstances,” I reply.
“Better for whom?” he demands, blocking my way with his body.
“Come on Mark, don’t make it more difficult than it needs to be. You know very well that it is best for both of us. For once, act like the wise man you are, if being in my company hasn’t burnt out your brain cells entirely.”
His lips are narrowed in anger – I sincerely hope he’s not going to actually explode.
“Please,” I beg him with a very different tone of voice this time, “let me go. It’s what I want, really.”
Mark sighs, closes his eyes for longer than is necessary and then, when he finally opens them, I see that something inside him has changed, that his confidence is faltering.
“Please, give the lady her coat,” he says finally. This is his way of letting me go.
“Thanks,” is all I reply. I don’t say anything else, I just give him a tepid smile, and he turns and walks away.
I grab my coat and walk towards the exit.
Just as well, so much the better.
Chapter 13
Jeju Island
I am in such a comatose state that I barely even notice we are about to land, and that the landing is not going to be a particularly smooth one: the plane has been bouncing about plenty and when we finally touch down on the tarmac, we do so with quite a jolt. In short, if I had been my normal self I would have already died from fear – but the truth is that I haven’t been myself for quite some time now.
Oh God, how I detest myself! How the hell have I managed to get myself into this mess? I’ve hit rock bottom psychologically – me, who usually never does. Is this really me sitting in this uncomfortable aeroplane seat? For a moment I almost doubt it.
Seung Hee has become very insightful and occasionally peers up at me over her journal of economic research with a worried look on her face. I can see her struggling for a moment with the temptation to say something, but in the end she decides not to.
I know that I must look awful, I know that I can’t completely disguise the dark rings under my eyes that whole nights of restless sleep have caused me. Restless because of the terrible nightmares, to tell the truth. Ok, they’re not really nightmares. They’re mostly terrible dreams… You know… sexy ones?
And sometimes they’re even about Mark.
Oh, alright then, I admit it! I have loads of erotic dreams with Mark as the leading man and try as I might I can’t stop myself. It’s become almost like an obsession – I am slowly and inexorably losing all sense of lucidity.
And in order to avoid having these dreams I try to keep myself awake, but the sleep deprivation is driving me utterly round the bend.
“We’re here, Maddison.” Seung Hee’s voice is just a whisper but it still makes me jump.
I have to get hold of a few gallons of hot coffee as soon as possible, otherwise I will be in no state to do diddly-squat today.
We’ve just collected our suitcases and are on our way towards the taxi area when a strange feeling, a sudden awareness, hits me: I stop suddenly, blocking the passage of the people behind me and I turn my gaze to the corridor that leads to the exit. He’s here, I know that he’s here, I felt his presence instantly. My traitorous body would be able to sense his presence miles away. I’m surprised that I haven’t smelt him as well.
Mark has seen us too and nods his head in recognition. He has decided to hide behind his usual bored expression, but this time there is something different about him. I think he is even more tense than usual – I can see the deep, dark rings under his eyes that match mine and the greenish tinge to his pale face. I feel almost relieved. It is reassuring to know that I’m not the only unhealthy looking face in this place packed with enthusiastic tourists. This realisation actually makes me smile. Mark looks at me but doesn’t understand, and perhaps even thinks that I’m smiling mockingly at him. But I don’t care.
“I came to pick you up,” he says, greeting us very formally.
“And we’re really grateful,” says Seung Hee immediately, trying to reassure him.
I snort at his polite tone. Yeah, right, eternally grateful.
The snort does not go unnoticed by Mark. He takes Seung Hee’s suitcase to help her but does not even offer to do the same with mine, which, for the record, is three times heavier than my colleague’s. Certain bad habits are really hard to break.
I stride past th
em assertively – only to stop a few metres ahead, undecided as to where I’m supposed to go. What kind of car will the lord of the manor have hired? I turn to see which direction they’re heading in but see only two dark eyes glaring threateningly at me, much too close for comfort.
“Did I telepathically send you the map of the place where I parked the car?” he asks sarcastically.
I don’t really know how to get myself out of this in a dignified manner.
“Errrm, no?” I admit softly.
But he has heard me.
“Just as I thought,” he mutters, and walks past me.
I can only follow them, silently dragging my suitcase. It seems that Mark has parked the car as far away as possible. I almost wonder if he did it on purpose…
When we get to the farthest corner of the parking lot, Mark opens the boot of the Hyundai he has rented and puts Seung Hee’s suitcase inside. Then he turns to see where I am. His satisfied smirk at my exhausted face is so obvious that I can hardly believe it: so he did do it on purpose! It was all calculated, all part of a plan!
This is worse than being teased by Edward Dalton when I was four, worse even than the chewing gum he stuck to my pigtails! I’m so furious I almost suspect that black smoke is coming out of my nostrils. Seung Hee has understood what’s going on and rushes to my rescue and between the pair of us we manage to catapult my suitcase into the boot. Mark observes the scene looking completely relaxed and without bothering to lift a finger to help us.
From the moment we cross the plaza in front of the hotel, war has been declared and neither of us can do anything to hide the fact: when we unfortunately get stuck in the revolving door, I almost manage to hit him with my suitcase. Mark jumps out of the way just in time, but seeing as I’ve reached the point of no return I give him a sharp kick in the shins to which he responds by trying to pull me over by yanking on my arm. Our performance does succeed in unjamming the revolving door, but has the unfortunate side effect of also sending the pair of us sprawling onto the floor of the hotel lobby. A shocked Japanese couple even decide to take a photo of us.