The Billionaire and the Runaway Bride by Nadia Lee
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.