by Nadia Lee
I drive to the Aylster Hotel. Since I have no clue which room she’s staying in, I pace around the lobby.
My phone is finally charged, so I send Yuna tons of texts, saying I’m at the hotel and I’m sorry.
I try calling her numerous times.
My texts stay unread. My calls go unanswered.
The front desk clerk is a young lady with her hair up in a professional ponytail. I ask her to connect me to the guest room where Yuna is staying. The clerk says there is no guest under the name of Yuna Hae.
“Well, how about anybody with the last name Hae?”
The clerk shakes her head. “Sorry, we can’t do that. It’s for our guests’ privacy and comfort.”
“Do I look like the type to violate somebody’s privacy and comfort?” I ask in my most charming voice.
The clerk merely shoots me an awkward smile. Naturally, the one time I really need to trade on my looks, this woman is immune.
I’m really tempted to make a scene, but I don’t want to give Yuna another reason to be annoyed with me. And have her mom nod and raise her eyebrow and say that I thrive on scandals and publicity. All of which is far, far beneath Yuna and her family.
Fuck.
After a couple of hours with no progress, I drive home to Malibu. I tell myself it’s going to be okay because Yuna’s going to show up for work on Monday, and I’ll get to apologize for screwing up. Then I’ll offer to teach her how to drive. Or get her a new gift, something she can use without any extra training.
I toss and turn all night, so getting up early the next morning is easy. I shower and dress nicely in long black slacks and a dark gray silk shirt that brings out my eyes. Anxiety flutters in my gut, and my palms grow damp. I wipe them dry with a paper towel. I’ve never been this nervous, not even when I went to my first audition.
Finally, the door opens and Ms. Kim walks in.
I wait a beat, but she’s alone.
“Where’s Yuna?” I ask, swallowing a ball of disappointment stuck in my throat.
“Ms. Hae is indisposed. She wanted me to give this to you.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a white envelope.
My mouth dries. Is this a “fuck off” payment? I clench the envelope, leaving creases on the pristine paper. “I don’t want money.”
Ms. Kim looks at me like I’ve just lost my mind. “Fortunately, Ms. Hae has no desire to give you money.”
Then what is this? It can’t be an angry letter. It’s too thin. I rip the envelope open. It’s a single sheet of paper.
I’m resigning, effective immediately.
–Yuna
She signed and dated it yesterday.
I didn’t know such a short sentence could express so much anger and hurt. I look at Ms. Kim.
“Is Yuna okay? Did she cry?”
“Ms. Hae does not cry.” Ms. Kim’s politely bland, but I can hear the judgment in her tone.
Yuna probably cried. Even if she didn’t in front of others out of pride, she would have privately. A hot fist clenches around my heart. Damn it. I screwed this up so bad.
“Is she at the hotel now? I’ll go with you,” I say.
“You aren’t on her agenda. She doesn’t see anybody without an appointment.”
“Then I’ll make an appointment now. You’re her assistant, right?”
Ms. Kim’s face is an impassive mask, her tone icy smooth. “She’s unavailable for the rest of the month.”
“It won’t take long.” I actually don’t know how long it’s going to take to properly apologize, but I need to get on Yuna’s calendar.
“She’s unable to spare a minute for this for the rest of the month.”
There’s only one week left in the month. “How about next month?”
“She’s unavailable for the rest of the year. Have a good day.”
She turns around and leaves.
Oh no, you don’t.
I go outside to jump into my Lamborghini. The sight of the pink convertible in the driveway is like a sucker punch, but I don’t have time to register this new pain because Ms. Kim’s already driving away in a black Mercedes.
I follow her because I can’t reach Yuna otherwise. I don’t bother to be subtle. I want her to know no matter what bullshit excuse she gives me, I’m going to see Yuna and apologize in person.
But Ms. Kim doesn’t go to the hotel. She goes to a movie theater and spends the rest of the day there. I wait. She’s going to have to go back to the hotel and report to Yuna that she did her job.
It’s not until after the theater closes and Ms. Kim doesn’t come out that I realize she must’ve left some other way. Lady Min brought a team of people to Los Angeles. It wouldn’t be hard for Ms. Kim to leave without my noticing.
Fuck.
Frustration flashes through me, but what’s left behind is sheer determination. I clench the steering wheel. I don’t care what obstacles Ms. Kim or Lady Min or God himself throws in my way. I will see Yuna and say what needs to be said.
Chapter Fifty-One
Yuna
I drink coffee and munch on fresh berries, while Mom has her eggs and toast. All brought up by room service a few minutes ago.
“I really don’t know how much longer I can eat like this,” Mom complains.
“At least the chef didn’t douse everything with butter like yesterday.”
“I don’t know how anybody can be expected to eat so much grease.” Mom shudders. “My arteries will never be the same.”
“That’s why I stick to yogurt and fruit.” But I know what she really misses is abalone porridge prepared by our housekeeper back in Korea. Mom loves to have it at least once a week.
“By the way…”
“Yes?” I prompt her when she doesn’t continue. It isn’t like her to bring up something then not talk about it.
“I heard Ryu Taejo’s in the city to visit a cousin who’s attending UCLA medical school. I thought it’d be nice if you two could meet today. Maybe for lunch?”
The last thing I want to do is meet my mom’s top pick for a meal, but I did promise. Besides, it’s been three days since the birthday party. Mom’s been remarkably patient.
“Sure,” I say finally.
“Excellent.” Mom smiles.
I hope she isn’t expecting anything to come of the lunch. A meal isn’t a commitment.
She adds, “You’ll enjoy going out. You’ve been staying inside since the party. Haven’t even done any shopping.”
I just haven’t felt like leaving because I know Declan’s hanging out in the hotel lobby. I don’t want to face him until I’m emotionally ready. Losing my temper or frothing like a rabid dog won’t do, even if that does seem to be the modus operandi for most of the women in his life.
The fact is, I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to hear him apologize for missing the party. I finally read some of his texts. He doesn’t understand this isn’t about the party. It’s about the fact that I’m not his priority. That he thinks an outrageously expensive gift can make up for it.
He treated me the way a dossier husband would. And getting stuck with a man like that is something I’ve literally traveled halfway around the world to avoid. If I hadn’t had any expectations, it wouldn’t have hurt so much. But he made me dream and hope and want. And then crapped all over it.
I just can’t seem to find a way to forgive him or get over it. My heart aches so badly, and the pain is nothing like what I felt when Woomin betrayed me. This is a thousand times worse. The knife Declan stuck in me is still turning, still making me bleed, keeping the wound raw and aching.
“I know it’s been hard,” Mom says with a sigh. “I didn’t realize you cared about Declan so much.”
“What do you mean?” I ask with mild surprise. I thought I’d been acting pretty calm. And with control and proper decorum. I’d rather die than have anybody pity me and my situation.
“Because you haven’t raised your voice even once. And I know my daughter. When you’re truly h
urt, you turn cold.”
I let out a laugh of disbelief. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. You’re very much like your brother in that regard. But then, he taught you to do that.”
“Did he? I don’t remember.” I’m a warm, fun person, unlike my overly serious older brother.
“Oh, I think it was when you were in first or second grade—I can’t remember which, precisely. But you were upset about something and pitching a fit.”
“What was I upset about?”
“I don’t know. You were too busy screaming to tell me what was wrong.”
I drink coffee to hide my face behind my mug. That sounds like the worst kind of shameful behavior ever.
Mom continues, “Anyway, Eugene told you if you show how affected you are, you’re only humiliating yourself.”
I raise both my eyebrows. “I doubt I understood that when I was that young, especially when I was upset enough to be screaming the entire time.”
“Eugene put it more…bluntly and impactfully, with words that a child can understand. I’d rather not repeat it.” Mom smiles a “you know what I mean” smile.
He probably used a few bad words. I learned all my bad words from him, even though he denies it.
“But aren’t you happy I’m going to meet this Ryu Taejo? That’s what you wanted,” I say.
“Yes and no. I offered Declan money to leave you.”
Embarrassment blazes through me. “Mom!”
“What? I had to try.”
“He turned you down.” My tone is flat, but a tiny, tiny part of me is pleased he did. At least he didn’t fail me like that damned Woomin.
But he still failed, a voice inside me whispers. Maybe not like Woomin, but in a different way.
True enough. And it was a much more public way, so everyone, including all my friends, would know how little I mean to him.
“Yes, so I offered him one of the penthouses we own in Manhattan.”
I just shake my head. Mom is so shameless and persistent! “And…?”
“He turned that down, too. Apparently, he has no desire to move to New York City.”
Or leave me. The idea softens me a little, but then I remember that it probably had nothing to do with me. His career is here. In Hollywood. That’s why he didn’t want the penthouse.
If Mom had offered him a penthouse in Los Angeles… Well, who knows what he might’ve said?
“I also made my objections clear to him, but he defended himself fairly well. He was quite serious about being with you, and I thought…perhaps…” Mom sighs. “Perhaps he actually was the kind of man you said you wanted. A man who would put you first. I half wished he’d be that person even as we had the talk at Ivy’s place.”
Damn it. For Mom to come this close to accepting Declan makes everything more painful. I feel like an idiot for being such a terrible judge of character.
“I thought you’d be happy you got what you wanted,” I murmur softly, doing my best not to show how much I’m hurting.
The corners of her mouth turn downward. “No parent is happy to see their children sad.”
I look away briefly to control my churning feelings. Once I’m calmer, I face her. “I can’t cry or scream. I don’t think I could stop if I started. And I don’t want to waste my emotional energy on a man who doesn’t deserve it.” Because that’s a matter of pride.
I don’t cling, and I won’t beg for affection from anyone. Either somebody loves me or they don’t. And I’m certainly not going to cry over a man who won’t bother to show up for my birthday party.
We finish the rest of the breakfast, gossiping about the latest fashion. I’m grateful for the change of subject.
Since I now have a lunch appointment, I take a long shower and put on a brand-new baby-pink Naeem Khan dress and the cutest pearlescent nude heels. For accessories, I pick out pearls and diamonds. They’re classic.
When it’s time to go to the restaurant where I’m meeting Ryu Taejo, I put on a pair of oversized sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat that goes perfectly with my outfit. Ms. Kim carries my purse for me. Mr. Choi and three additional bodyguards follow.
Nerves jitter in my belly, and I take a deep breath in the elevator, trying hard to calm myself. It’s the first time since the party that I’m leaving the suite, and I’m probably going to run into Declan, who I know is loitering in the lobby. Why is he bothering? He should have more important meetings with his agent and Hollywood people. After all, his career is what matters the most, isn’t it?
If this is out of some misguided sense of guilt…
Maybe I should text him back and state that an apology isn’t needed over spilled milk. But there’s no sin like poor social timing.
Or I could just sneak out by myself. Use a different exit. But that’s ridiculous. I haven’t done anything wrong. Why should I inconvenience myself that way?
Maybe because you don’t know how you’re going to react if you run into Declan? my inner voice says.
Mr. Choi and his team will handle Declan if he tries to get too close. I don’t know if I can maintain control otherwise.
The elevator dings, and the doors open. My entourage and I spill out into the lobby. My chin held high, I start walking toward the car waiting outside. I keep my step deliberate and measured to hide the emotions churning in my gut. Ms. Kim walks a bit behind me, while the bodyguards move along in a half-circle, watching my sides and back.
The sound of shoes hitting the marble floor rings from my left. My stomach churns a little, and resentment and something that feels like furious love tears at me. I blink fast to get rid of the tears in my eyes.
Don’t turn your head. Don’t turn your head.
“Yuna!” It’s Declan’s voice. There’s a brief scuffle with one of the bodyguards and then his hand wraps around mine.
And I’m faced with the man I thought I was in love with.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Declan
Three days in the Aylster lobby finally pays off when Yuna comes out of one of the gleaming elevators. She’s surrounded by her people, who are in black suits. And I can’t see her eyes through the dark sunglasses covering half her beautiful face. But I can never mistake the hot awareness prickling through me, just for being in the same space as her.
I run toward her, not wanting to waste this opportunity to talk to her.
“Yuna!” One of the suits tries to get in my way, but I forcibly push him to the side and take her hand.
Mr. Choi immediately steps forward and puts a hand on my chest, murder in his eyes. The others move to create a wall between me and Yuna, who yanks her hand out of mine. Ms. Kim reaches into a bag and gives Yuna a disinfecting wipe, and she runs it over the hand I held just seconds ago. Ms. Kim takes the used wipe.
It’s the same thing she did to that ex of hers who left her for money. Having it done to me feels…eviscerating. “Yuna, I’m sorry I missed the party. I didn’t mean to.”
“This isn’t about the party.” Her cold words chip away what little hope I’ve been hanging on to.
“And the car. I didn’t know you couldn’t drive. If you want, I can teach you.”
Her lips twist into an ugly line. The sight is a slap to my face. I’ve never seen her make such an awful expression before.
“It isn’t about the car, either,” she says. “I have to go. I’m going to be late for my date.”
“Date?” I croak.
“My mother arranged for a meeting with a dossier candidate.” Her tone is hard. “You see, she didn’t think you’d care enough to show, and I told her she was wrong. We actually made a bet because I was so sure you’d come. But I was wrong. Obviously, totally, completely mistaken. So now I figure I should do as she says. She clearly knows more about men than I do, and on top of that, it’ll make her happy.”
Fuck. “Please don’t do this. You’re going to regret it. That dossier guy doesn’t love you.” Words pour out in a desperate torrent.
She shrugs.
“Apparently, love doesn’t matter.” She turns to Mr. Choi and speaks to him in Korean.
She walks toward a car outside with Ms. Kim and one of the bodyguards. I try to follow, but Mr. Choi and his buddies stop me.
“C’mon, man! What the hell’s wrong with you?” I demand of Mr. Choi. “I’m trying to make things right here! She’ll be miserable with a dossier husband!”
“You let her down,” Mr. Choi says, the words clipped. “And you don’t understand Korean culture. You can’t make Ms. Hae happy because you don’t know what makes her happy.”
The car takes off with her inside. My heart shrivels.
“It would be best if you don’t show up again. Nothing is going to change. Ms. Hae is returning to Korea soon. And if you show up in Seoul to harass her, things won’t end this pleasantly.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Yuna
The entire way to meet the man my mother has chosen for me, I think about the way Declan appeared in the lobby. He looked tired. Haggard, even. I don’t know why it bothers me. He’s nothing to me now. Why should I care if he’s not resting like he should?
I can’t believe he apologized for missing the party.
It’s so frustrating that he doesn’t get that it isn’t about the party. But maybe the fact that he doesn’t understand what’s really wrong is the problem. I thought he understood what I need and want, but he really doesn’t. I’ve been deluding myself because I was dazzled by him and wanted us to have a future.
But I know as well as anyone that that’s the surest way to screw up a relationship. And I don’t want to be with the wrong person and waste the best part of my youth on him. I learned early on that it’s best to get what I want, rather than sort of what I want. Every time I didn’t, I ended up regretting it, whether it was a relationship, friendship or something as inconsequential as a dress.
I try to breathe slowly to calm myself before the pointless lunch. There’s no way it will result in marriage, like my mother wants. But a promise is a promise. I can sacrifice one lousy meal to make her happy. We all have to eat, after all.
The restaurant is a bright French bistro near the UCLA campus. I make my way to a table in the corner that has a view of a small man-made pond.
