Temporary Wife Temptation

by Jayci Lee

  He slapped his cheeks like a drowsy driver fighting the sweet temptation of sleep. Having the sudden hots for an employee was inconvenient and messy. Their HR director, at that. As a rule, Garrett never dated anyone in the company.

  And the timing was diabolical. A scandal so close to his CEO appointment could have consequences more dire than mere personal humiliation. It could destabilize the entire corporation, and sabotage his plan for a partnership with Vivotex, the largest fashion group in the world. His family had worked too hard and sacrificed too much for him to risk the company’s reputation and the livelihood of thousands of employees over his libido.

  And his grandmother. The eighty-year-old was still as sharp as a surgical knife but she was growing frailer than she let on. If she lost face because of him, she would give herself a heart attack by sheer force of will. A small one, just enough to cram a healthy dose of guilt down his throat.

  Damn it.

  His self-control had shifted as he held Natalie’s eyes. He’d wanted to kiss the woman with a white-hot lust he couldn’t comprehend. As far as he was concerned, Natalie Sobol was the devil incarnate sent to toy with him, and he planned to avoid her at all costs.

  He arrived at his family home with fifty minutes left until his meeting with a potential business partner, Clark Nobu. He was the backbone of Vivotex’s board of directors, and earning his trust would boost Hansol’s chances for a partnership.

  “Hey, Gare. Colin’s taking me to one of his new clubs.” His sister, decked out in a black sequined dress that was six inches too short, skipped down the staircase and pecked him on the cheek. “Bye, Gare.”

  “Good seeing you, too, Adelaide,” he said dryly. Their cousin Colin ran several successful nightclubs in Koreatown and Hollywood. A self-made man. Garrett respected that, but the family branded him as the black sheep. “I’m rooting for Colin but he can’t avoid Grandmother forever.”

  “I know.” A somber shadow clouded Adelaide’s eyes. “And I’m rooting for you, oppa. Good luck with Grandmother.”

  “Yeah, thanks. Have fun, kiddo.” He frowned at her back as she hurried out of the house.

  After their mom died, Garrett had done his best for his baby sister, but there was only so much a fifteen-year-old boy could do for a seven-year-old girl. By the time their dad emerged from years of grief, Adelaide was a petulant high-school kid who switched boyfriends like pairs of old shoes, seeking affection and comfort from superficial relationships.

  Adelaide was smarter than him, though. Watching his father fall apart after his mom’s death hadn’t been enough to teach him the destructive force of love. It had taken Samantha to nail home the lesson and bleed him dry of sentimental delusions. Even years after their breakup, the mere thought of her singed him with a flash of betrayal and humiliation.

  Garrett knocked and entered his grandmother’s room. It didn’t contain any Western furniture, such as a bed or chairs. Rather, she sat with her back ramrod straight on a thick floor mattress with her Samsung laptop set up on a low table beside her in a fusion of the old and the new.

  “Hal-muh-nee.” He bowed at his waist, then kneeled in front of her on a bang-suk, taking his usual position on the comfortable floor cushion. “How was your day?”

  “The usual. Incompetent idiots running around like their asses were on fire.” She was fluent in English but she spoke to him in Korean. An outsider would be thrown by the conversation conducted in two different languages—as though there was an invisible translator between them translating English into Korean and Korean into English at lightning speed. “Did you eat?”

  “I had dinner at the office.”

  “Good. Sit down more comfortably.”

  That was code for him to settle down for a long conversation. Garrett shifted to sit with his legs crossed in front of him and waited for her to speak.

  “We have half a year until you’re appointed CEO. I trust you’re diligently preparing for your new duties.”

  “Of course, Grandmother.” They both knew he was ready to run the company. He’d been trained for the job since he was a child.

  She nodded and breathed deeply. If he didn’t know better, Garrett would’ve thought she was hesitating, but that was preposterous. She wielded her authority with unwavering confidence.

  “When we announce you as Hansol’s new CEO at the press conference, we will also announce your engagement.”

  “My what?” His heart lurched as he studied his grandmother’s face. Did she have a stroke without anyone noticing? “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Of course I’m all right.” She waved aside his question with an impatient shake of her head. “As I was saying, we will announce your engagement to Jihae Park of the Rotelle Corporation in Korea.”

  His blood chilled as disbelief turned to outrage. Every minute of his life had been micromanaged to mold him into the perfect heir. Edges that didn’t fit into that box were sliced off without mercy. Skateboarding was for hooligans. Golf was more appropriate. Basketball could get too rough. Tennis reflected higher culture. Now she wants to decide who I marry?

  His parents’ marriage had been a union of two wealthy Korean-American families and their businesses. They had found love and happiness in their arranged marriage, but when his mother succumbed to cancer, the warmth and laughter in their home had faded away. Garrett and his sister’s childhood had been dominated by the sterile, suffocating demands of upholding their family name.

  “Am I being married off to the woman or the corporation?” He forced his voice to remain calm.

  “You...” Her eyes widened to reveal an unnatural amount of white around her irises. “You dare talk back to me?”

  A stab of guilt pierced his heart, but Garrett clenched his fists and pressed them onto the hard floor in front of him. His grandparents had built Hansol from the ground up, working sixteen-hour days in front of sewing machines, their eyes going blind and their fingers deteriorating with arthritis. After a decade of single-minded determination, Hansol opened its first retail store and took its place as an up-and-coming fashion retailer in mainstream America, but his grandfather passed away too soon to see his dream realized. To Grandmother, Hansol was more than a company. It was her late husband’s soul.

  “I’ve obeyed you without question my entire life because I know of the sacrifices you’ve made for our family, but an arranged marriage is out of the question.” He’d rather crawl across sizzling lava than become a bartered stud for the Song family. “Please reconsider, hal-muh-nee.”

  “Min-ah.” As his grandmother addressed him by his Korean name, her stern features softened imperceptibly. “I arranged the match with your best interest at heart. Jihae is a lovely, accomplished child from a well-respected jae-bul family. She will make a good wife and mother.”

  “My best interest? And it has nothing to do with having a jae-bul granddaughter-in-law who will bear you jae-bul grandchildren?” The only way to obtain the power and authority of a jae-bul—the rich, pseudoroyal families in Korea—was through birth or marriage. No matter how successful, the Songs were still part of the nouveaux riches, not a jae-bul family. “Grandmother, I respect our heritage and want the best for Hansol, but I could uphold our family name without a jae-bul wife.”

  “Such insolence. Defying your elders.” She bowed her head and shook it slowly as though she was too ashamed to hold it up. “This is my fault. After your mother died, I did my best to raise you and your sister right, but it’s obvious I failed you.”

  Garrett swallowed a roar of frustration. Reasoning and pleading wouldn’t get him anywhere with his grandmother. She was ruthless and obstinate, and she would hold her ground until it crumbled beneath her. It was time to reclaim his life.

  “You haven’t failed. You raised us to stand up for ourselves and to fight for what we believe in.” His voice shook with colliding emotions. Taking a deep breath, he straight
ened his back. He wasn’t the scared young boy who’d lost his mom. He was a grown man and it was time his grandmother accepted it—even if he had to lie to get it across to her. “I’m already engaged to another woman, and I will fight for her.”

  For the second time that evening, she was at a loss for words, but only for a moment. “Well, you need to tell the other woman the engagement is off. There is no harm done, yet. The press is unaware of either engagement.”

  “No harm done? I was taught that honor should be upheld at all costs. Casting aside the woman I love to marry another with wealth and power is not honorable.”

  “I am your grandmother. Do not presume to lecture me about honor.” Her slight figure trembled with outrage. “If you do not marry Jihae, I will stop you from ascending to the CEO position. Don’t forget I am the majority shareholder.”

  “And I’m the most qualified CEO candidate, and the only one who could deliver the Vivotex partnership. If you vote against me, you’ll be voting against the company.” Garrett stood and bowed to her. “I’m keeping my promise to my fiancée. I trust you to act with Hansol’s best interest in mind.”

  With those last words, he left the house with long, fast strides. There was rebelling and there was rebelling. He was surprised his grandmother hadn’t passed out. Then again, she wouldn’t be Grace Song if she showed weakness in the face of adversity.

  Garrett planted his hands on the hood of his car as vertigo blurred his vision. Not only did he now have to find a fiancée, but he also had to marry her. If not executed flawlessly, his plan could split his family apart, and Hansol could take a blow. There was no room for error.

  Once he secured the partnership with Vivotex, his grandmother wouldn’t oppose his CEO appointment. She would never put her personal agenda ahead of the good of the company. Hansol meant too much to her. But Garrett wasn’t safe from her interference with his personal life until he married his imaginary fiancée.

  Where can I find the perfect bride? He slid into the driver’s seat with a mirthless laugh. Now there’s one question I never thought I’d ask myself. His brief dalliance with self-pity and panic ceased as he focused on how to pull this off. His partner in crime had to be someone discreet, practical and desperate enough to agree to a fake marriage. Simple. Raking his hand through his hair, he stepped on the accelerator and made a sharp left, heading toward Melrose.

  A real marriage was the last thing Garrett wanted to inflict on himself. It made little difference whether it was an arranged union or a love match. Marriage was a senseless gamble. He would never risk the kind of love that could break a man and his family.

  When Garrett drove onto Melrose, the traffic stopped, killing any breeze he was able to enjoy. As soon as he saw the club’s valet sign, he shot out of his car and tossed the key to the parking attendant.

  He grimaced as he stepped into the meat market known as Le Rêve, and headed for the private VIP room. Garrett usually steered clear of places like this, but Nobu was a widower who thrived on the kind of excitement Le Rêve had to offer.

  Garrett was relieved the VIP room was empty. But the civil war he’d instigated with his grandmother wrapped him in a fog of anger. How had it to come to this? He pinched the bridge of his nose as tension built in his temples. When his phone buzzed in his back pocket, he sighed with resignation, knowing it was Nobu canceling.

  I’m tied up in a work emergency. Not getting out of here until past midnight. My apologies. I owe you one.

  Garrett was officially off the clock. He huffed a humorless laugh. If he married that Korean heiress, he would never be off the clock. Even the most intimate aspects of his life would be intertwined with Hansol. He was tempted to grab a stiff drink, but he didn’t get drunk in public and rarely did so in private. Control was much too valuable, but tonight, his was dangerously close to shattering.

  Where the hell would he find his convenient bride?

  Two

  The cool silk of the dress caressed Natalie’s bare skin as she inched forward in line. She winced at the reminder that a slip of fabric was all that stood between the world and her rear end. Sighing, she crossed “going commando” off her bucket list.

  “You. Lady in red.”

  When no one stepped up, she craned her neck to peer behind her. Maybe the bouncer meant the blonde in hot pink? After three seconds, Natalie realized he meant her.

  “Come on through, gorgeous.” His smirk was a tooth short of a leer.

  According to her internet research, Le Rêve’s Hulk look-alike bouncers upheld the less-is-more philosophy. Her dress was definitely less. The strap of her scarlet mini flowed into a bodice that exposed a third of her right breast, and the back of her dress... Well, there wasn’t one. Natalie didn’t recognize herself in the mirror, especially with her dramatic eye makeup, but she couldn’t afford to be modest. Getting in mattered too much, especially as it was a Friday night and everyone was dressed to kill.

  Forcing a smile, she sashayed past Hulk Number One and ascended the steep staircase in her four-inch stilettos. Natalie reached the top without falling on her face or mooning the crowd. Yes-s-s. She pulled back her elbow in a discreet fist pump.

  Lily Davis had called at 4:00 a.m., sobbing and hiccupping a jumble of words, including “Sophie,” “high fever” and “vomiting.” Natalie had instructed Sophie’s grandparents to take the baby to the nearest emergency room from their hotel and rushed over to meet them. By the time the doctor explained that it was a twenty-four-hour virus a lukewarm bath would’ve eased, she’d missed her interview for the VP position.

  Stupid rookie mistake. She should’ve researched the symptoms online instead of panicking like that. But the damage was done. Natalie had no luck rescheduling her interview. The hiring committee had decided staying with her sick niece in the ER rather than showing up for the interview proved she lacked the commitment for an executive position. They’d waved aside her explanation as though she was making a my-dog-ate-my-homework excuse. She gritted her teeth at the unfairness.

  What had happened this morning could ruin the one chance she had at adopting Sophie. But it wasn’t over yet. It couldn’t be over. Garrett Song was the future CEO of Hansol. Surely, he could convince the hiring committee to give her a second chance. Ambushing him at a nightclub wasn’t the most professional move, but she had run out of options.

  According to his calendar, he was having a business meeting at the club, which also meant there was a good chance of his leaving for a business trip the next day. This might be the last chance she had to talk to him face-to-face for a few weeks. There was no time to waste, so Natalie had resorted to desperate measures.

  Squaring her shoulders, she ventured deeper into foreign territory. Her lips parted at the sight of beautiful people writhing and rocking to the DJ’s mixes. They made sweaty, drunk and horny look attractive. The blinking strobe lights and reverberating bass pulsed in rhythm with her jackhammering heart. Natalie unclenched her clammy fists. Just find him, ask him and leave.

  But first, she needed liquid courage.

  Icy blue accent lights slashed artfully across the circular bar, its central column of spirits reaching high to the distant ceiling. How in the world could they get those bottles down?

  Natalie shook her head to rein in her wandering thoughts, then froze. She’d spent an hour taming her black curls, but they were already straining against the five hundred bobby pins holding them down. She had half an hour, tops, before she turned into Medusa. At the hottest club on Melrose. That’s just swell.

  Hustling through a tiny space between revelers, she managed to snag a stool, then waved for a bartender. A boyish mixologist with tattoos hugging his biceps gave her a nod and a wink, as he performed a hair-raising cocktail stunt involving two jiggers and a tumbler for another customer. After all the juggling and shaking, the pink liquid he finally poured into the martini glass was underwhelming. Even the fresh m
int and cucumber garnish—added with a flourish—couldn’t save it.

  When Biceps made his way over to her, she took a deep breath and broke his heart. “Double Scotch. Neat.”

  “Any particular brand?” he asked, pouting at the sheer uncoolness of her order.

  “Bowmore. Twenty-five years old.”

  “Nice.” His eyebrows drew up and he flashed a grin. “A beautiful woman who knows her whiskey.”

  She smiled back, glad she’d dodged the showman’s bullet, but her relief was short-lived.

  “Power up!” he hollered.

  “Power up!” his compatriots echoed.

  A few customers clapped excitedly as a small skateboard-like contraption with handlebars zoomed around the liquor column on hidden tracks and stopped where Biceps waited. He stepped on and secured a harness around his waist, becoming the center of attention as he spiraled upward. Grasping the bottle of Bowmore from the top of the column, he descended like a rock star.

  By the time he handed her the Scotch, her cheeks were burning and she seriously considered hiding under the bar. It was bad enough being at a club, not wearing much at all, without a bunch of strangers staring at her.

  Forcing herself to relax, she took a long sip. The whiskey caressed her throat and kindled a fire in her stomach. She closed her eyes and smiled at the simple pleasure. When she opened them again, Biceps was standing in front of her, sporting an odd gape-mouthed look. Then, sudden realization flamed her cheeks.

  “Oh, jeez. I’m so sorry.” She hurriedly grabbed her credit card from her clutch and handed it to him. “Here you go. Thank you.”

  Looking a little embarrassed, he enveloped her outstretched hand in his. “The drink’s on me, beautiful.”

  “That won’t be—”

  “My name’s Kenny and I get off in three hours. Can you stick around?” His lips curled into a boyish smile. It was only when his gaze lingered on her cleavage she realized he was hitting on her.