by Nadia Lee
Which is crazy, because he didn’t smile at me like that. It’s like my brain is making stuff up to drive me nuts.
At least I didn’t dream about him with his glow-in-the-dark bulge. That’s a curse reserved for Eugene’s eyes only.
Thankfully, I can’t give in to a random impulse to call Mr. Hot Underwear Model because I threw out his card. It’s like my gut knew that card was going to be trouble.
But what fun, delicious trouble he would’ve been!
Nope, nope, nope. Not going to think about that. I am not going to regret tossing the card.
I did my best not to dwell on a man whose name I don’t know and whose number I’ll never recover. Then I spent over an hour fussing with my appearance until I was satisfied. My hair’s pulled back into a sleek French twist, and my makeup is mostly coral, with a hint of brown to bring out warmth and feminine sweetness in a professional way.
The outfit was the hardest to choose. I don’t have a suit. I’ve never had a reason to wear one, so I never wasted money on anything like that. I settled on a pale cream lacy Monique Lhuillier structured dress that ends an inch and a half above my knees and has long see-through sleeves. With a pair of super-cute nude Dior stilettos and an oversized Chanel bag, I look professional enough, even though Eugene’s scoffing remark plays in my head.
Your bag costs more than what Ms. Hong makes in a month.
Whatever. Stop thinking about Eugene and focus on the interview. Kim told me—after her friend’s approval—that the boss is a model and actor. He’s also into real estate, liquor, collecting art and cryptocurrencies. A big portion of his fortune came from early investments in cryptocurrencies, rather than just modeling and acting. She said knowing something about his interests might help me score points.
Real estate is all about location, location and location. And tax advantages, according to my dad.
As for liquor, I know what’s good when I taste it.
Art collections can be about art, or investment, money laundering or some other illicit stuff. I heard how a rival chaebol’s heiress got into trouble over that, although she got away with a minor slap on the wrist. I doubt this model/actor is into the bad stuff, because if he were, Kim wouldn’t have sent my résumé to him.
Cryptocurrencies… They’re not something I’m familiar with, but nobody’s perfect.
Besides, this is my first interview. It’s entirely possible that I might not get a job at all. And that’s okay, I tell myself. Just consider it a practice session.
Although…if I do get a job today, I’ll have some champagne to celebrate. And rub it in Eugene’s face.
I smile at the man who opens the door to my potential boss’s suite. He’s got brown hair and brown eyes, and a slightly lanky frame that’s wrapped in a pale green shirt. The overall effect is of a tree in spring. He smiles back, all friendly and slickly professional. “You must be Yuna. I’m Benedict Brown.”
The perfect last name to match his hair and eye color.
“Come on in. Declan’s waiting for you,” he says, gesturing at me.
I walk inside the huge suite, barely noticing the luxurious furnishings. I’ve been to the Aylster a few times before.
My gaze falls on the man sprawled on a couch, and my smile freezes in place.
It’s the man from the airport. The underwear model.
I blink, wondering if I’m simply hallucinating because I’ve been thinking about him. But nope. It’s really him.
His eyes run over me in close scrutiny. There’s an X-ray intensity in his gaze that makes me feel like I’m not wearing anything.
My toes curl with something between anticipation and apprehension. This interview is definitely going to veer off into uncharted territory.
Chapter Ten
Declan
Benedict brings Yuna to the couch opposite mine. Still not quite believing what I’m seeing, I stand up and gesture for her to take a seat.
She sits down, knees together like she’s doing a photoshoot on how to sit like a lady. I reclaim my position, but sit up straight, since it’s hard to do an interview while draped over a couch like a strip of limp bacon.
“So. You’re Yuna,” I say.
“Yes. And you must be Declan.”
“Declan Winters.” I extend my hand, hoping she’ll give me her full name. If she doesn’t, I’ll just look at her résumé later.
“Yuna Hae.”
She takes my hand and gives it a couple of good pumps. Her fingers are long, strong and incredibly soft and warm, like velvet left out in the sun.
Electric jolts more intense than I felt at the airport seem to shoot from her palm into my arm and the rest of my body. My heart beats funny—and a little too fast. Excitement pumps through my system, just like it does every time I spot something and decide I want it.
And I want Yuna Hae.
Hell, I’ve wanted her since I heard her play the piano in Incheon.
“How come you didn’t call?” It’s the most urgent thing on my mind and requires an immediate answer.
She gives me a light shrug. “I don’t have your number.”
“But I gave you my card.”
“Yeah, um… I don’t have it.” She gives me a small smile. I think it’s supposed to be apologetic, but it doesn’t feel sincere. If this were an audition, she wouldn’t be getting a callback.
“Did you lose it?” I should’ve gotten her number, instead of letting her rush off to catch her flight. It’s just that it never occurred to me. Women have never, ever lost my number. I suppose there’s a first time for everything, though. Now my I-lost-your-card cherry’s been popped.
Then something else occurs to me: even though she lost my number, we got to meet anyway. It’s like fate, which is kind of cool.
“No.” She clears her throat. “The fact is, I threw it away.”
My happy illusion shatters like a broken mirror.
Benedict starts coughing, then pounds his chest until the fit passes.
I start to open my mouth to respond, then stop. There’s no way I heard Yuna right. “You did, um…what?”
“I threw it away at the airport.”
I wiggle a finger in my ear. “Sorry, it sounded like you said you”—I laugh—“threw it away.”
She nods. “Before boarding my flight.”
The words are difficult to process. “And why would you do that? Did you get it confused with a used tissue, or…? Maybe a gum wrapper…?” Although my card is made with stiff paper. Nothing like a gum wrapper. But she might’ve lost the feeling in her fingers after playing Schubert with such vigor. I’m sure it happens.
“Well.” She pulls her lips in for a moment. “I figured that’d be the wise thing to do.”
“So keeping my card, maybe going on a date…that would’ve been unwise?”
“Something like that.”
“But showing up here is wise,” I say slowly to make sure I understand her non-logic.
“Yes.”
“Because even though you claim you don’t want anything to do with me—like calling me—you want my money.” I give Benedict a look. See? The Loch Ness Monster isn’t real.
“Not for free,” Yuna says. “I’ll be working. ‘Just compensation for my labor.’ If you want something that sounds more lawyer-like, I’m sure I can—”
“I don’t think a lawyer is going to help.” I’m still stuck on the fact that she threw away my card. My own fucking phone number!
What’s wrong with a date? I make a far better date than a boss, especially if the woman is intriguing. And Yuna is intriguing. And infuriating. The combination’s something I’ve never seen in a woman. I should hate it, but no. I like it even more. Like dessert that isn’t just sweet, but sweet and tart. And juicy.
“If this is too awkward, that’s okay,” Yuna says in a neutral tone. “I can go to another interview.”
“How many have you lined up?” I ask, then shake my head. “Actually, how many have you had already?”
<
br /> “This is my first, but I’m sure I can line up a few more. My friends are helping me,” she says.
“Your friends. Like Kim, who works for Salazar Pryce?” The woman Benedict spoke of with respect. I’ll bet Kim has lots of people in her figurative rolodex.
“Yes. You’ve heard of her.” Yuna beams, happy I know who one of her friends is. But then, the only thing terrible in the world is anonymity. “One way or the other, I’m getting a job in the next couple of weeks.”
It annoys the hell out of me that she isn’t begging me to hire her or give her a chance. It’s obvious that being my assistant isn’t her number one dream job. Okay, so it’s only for eight weeks, but she’d get to see me every day. Call me every day. Even come over to my house.
She doesn’t give a shit. She threw away your number.
Damn it. No woman has ever treated me like this before, even when I wasn’t an internationally seen underwear model. That’s how any guy knows he’s got the it factor. Girls fawning over you ever since you’re old enough to know what that means, which means starting in elementary school if you’ve got it.
I’ll be damned if Yuna works for some other less hot asshole in the city.
“Do you have any job experience?” I haven’t read her résumé and have no clue what the hell is on it. Now I wish I hadn’t cut Benedict off earlier.
“You mean, have I ever worked as an assistant?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Ah… So no job experience.”
“But everyone has to have a first time, right? Otherwise, none of us would have any experience.”
“And you like to argue.”
“Pointing out basic logic isn’t really arguing.”
And she says it with the prettiest mouth. I wonder what else she can do with it, then quickly rein myself in. I’m not getting a hard-on with Benedict in the room, and certainly not over a woman who thought it was a good idea to toss out my number.
I want to show her how bad an idea that was.
“Can you make coffee and answer phones?” I ask. “That’s mostly what the job entails.”
Benedict makes an outraged sound.
“Sure,” she says.
“And manage my calendar?”
“I’m sure I can figure it out. But really, if you’re having doubts, I can just find somebody else who’s willing to hire me.”
And have you spend your time with someone else? I don’t think so. “It’s fine. You’re hired. Sign the NDA.” I turn to Benedict. “Email her a copy, plus whatever else she needs to start.”
She purses her mouth as she considers. “Um. Should I have it reviewed by a lawyer?”
Reviewed by a lawyer? So she can toss the damned agreement, too? I don’t think so. “If you like. But if you don’t sign it as-is, you don’t get to work for me. And nobody in town’s going to hire you without an NDA.”
“Hmm. Okay. How about my salary?”
I name her the figure I pay Benedict. That should ensure she’ll be eager to work for me, even though the temp position doesn’t come with the usual benefits.
But she sighs like she’s torn between disappointment and relief. I don’t know what she’s got to be disappointed about. I pay Benedict really well. And she’s not going to make that much anywhere else without any experience.
She seems to be taking an awfully long time to decide.
“Do you have any objections?” I ask finally.
“No, it’s fine,” she says.
“Great. You start tomorrow. Benedict will send you the details.”
Her entire demeanor shifts. Her posture straightens with confidence, and her soft, full mouth curves into a lovely smile. But the best is her eyes. They sparkle like carefully cut dark brown garnets, but with more warmth and fire. They suck me in, and I can’t look away.
“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter Eleven
Declan
The instant the door closes behind Yuna, I turn to Benedict. He’s grinning like an idiot. Probably happy I hired her.
Should I burst his bubble by telling him he’s destined not to finish his screenplay during his vacation? Inevitably, he’s going to have another great idea and have to throw everything out. And it’ll probably happen the night before he has to come back to work.
Nah. Let him dream. Besides, I have a more urgent matter for him to get to. Like the information he didn’t tell me before Yuna showed up.
But first things first.
“You told Yuna who you work for when you arranged for the interview, didn’t you?” I ask. I’m not going to fire Benedict for it, because it worked out, but I should reiterate that it isn’t a good idea to reveal the identity of the celebrity boss when you’re hiring an assistant. For one thing, they haven’t signed an NDA. For another, there are a lot of unhinged people out there, people whose crazy goes into overdrive when they think they might be allowed into the inner circle of the famous.
“What? No, of course not. You don’t like that.”
“But you made an exception for her because you really needed somebody to take over starting tomorrow so you can go write your masterpiece.”
“I most certainly did not. But Kim might have. It isn’t as if she can’t figure out who I work for. It isn’t exactly a secret.”
“Hmm.” Benedict’s never going to admit to anything beyond this. “Okay, fine. Now tell me everything you learned about Yuna.”
“What for? You already hired her.”
“So? You were going to tell me what you found out before she showed up. If you don’t fill me in, I’m going to assume you found something that says I should rescind the offer.”
“Oh my God. You are so paranoid.”
“You would be too, if somebody’d jumped you in bed.” It’s my default answer, but I’m not worried about Yuna jumping me. Actually, it’d be pretty awesome if she did…as long as she didn’t land on my ribs. Or balls.
“I dunno.” Benedict considers the idea. “I think it’d depend on how hot she was.” Then he rubs his chin and looks off into the distance. “Actually… If it was dark…”
“You’re a pig.”
“Yes, well, I learned from the best.”
“The best? You mean me? That’s defamation. You’re lucky I like you enough to not sue. Anyway, come on.” I make a rolling motion with my hand. “Yuna? The foundation?”
Benedict whips out his phone and taps a few times. “Okay, so she’s the head of the Ivy Foundation. It’s headquartered in Seoul. Completely legitimate. Over eighty percent of its annual budget is funded by the Hae Min Group.”
“What’s the Hae Min Group?”
“An absolutely enormous Korean conglomerate. Like Samsung.”
“Okay. Go on.”
“She’s the only daughter and the baby of the Hae family, which controls the Hae Min Group.”
I frown a little. That doesn’t add up. “Didn’t you say Hae Min is like Samsung?”
“Correct.”
“So the family’s gotta be rich, right?”
“That would seem to follow, yes.”
“So why is she trying to find work? What happened to her money?”
“I have no idea. But do you really need to know? You never asked why I wanted this job when you hired me.”
“Because it was obvious. You wanted money. You still do, which is why you put up with me. But she’s rich.”
“Yes. I believe her family’s net worth eclipses yours by quite a large margin.”
“You don’t have to sound so happy about it.”
“A thousand apologies. But yes, they’re like Crazy Rich Asians. Except in Korea.”
“Was she adopted?” That could be why her family decided she needed to start working. I’ve heard stories about how some asshole families return kids they adopted like an ill-fitting T-shirt, so it’s possible.
“I don’t think so. I saw a family photo, taken at some event or other. She’s practically a
carbon copy of her mother.”
“Maybe Mom had an affair.”
“Highly doubtful. If she had, don’t you think Yuna’s parents would be divorced?”
“Yeah…” I say slowly, my mind still on why she wants to work as a celebrity’s assistant, of all things. It sounds all glam, but the work itself isn’t.
“She probably just wants to be close to you, like every other woman in the world.”
“Normally I’d buy that, but she threw away my damned card.” So she doesn’t want to be that close.
“Mm. That must have stung.”
“Oh, shut up.”
I give myself a mental shake. No need to overthink this. What matters is that she’s back in my life, and this time I have her phone number, and she’s coming to my place tomorrow morning.
Chapter Twelve
Yuna
Once I’m in the lobby, it hits me: I got a job without using my family connections! And on my first try!
Yes! I did it! I showed Eugene!
But now I have certain obligations. I group-text my friends. They gave me the moral support I needed, plus helped me write out my résumé. They should be the first to know.
–Me: Guess what? I got the job!
–Kim: Woohoo! Go you!
–Ivy: Congrats! I knew you’d kill it!
–Court: We have to celebrate!
–Edgar: Tonight?
–Jo: Tonight works for me. How about you, Yuna?
–Me: You know me. Any time is great for celebrations and parties!
–Ivy: I volunteer our place. You all just show up any time in the next hour or two.
–Tony: Perfect.
–Me: Excellent. Let me call an Uber so I can get there.
Ivy insisted on getting me an account and linking it to her credit card. She told me to pay her back later if it bothers me to use her money that much, although she added pointedly, “Mi dinero es tu dinero. If you won’t accept it, I’m going to have to seriously rethink our soul-sisterhood.”
