The Billionaire and the Runaway Bride by Nadia Lee

Chapter Eighteen

Yuna

On the way back to Malibu, Declan stops by a Starbucks drive-through and buys coffee for both of us. I sip my soy latte and sigh.

“This is perfect,” I say. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He swallows a mouthful of iced macchiato. “And sorry about the scene after lunch. Hopefully Jessica won’t do that again.”

“It’s no big deal. I enjoyed it, actually.” I can feel myself grinning with perverse excitement. It was like starring in a train-wreck K-drama with all sorts of crazy tropes. I should wait for the cliché of all clichés: the Secret Behind Somebody Important’s Birth. K-dramas like this are so popular, there’s even a word for them: makjang.

I wonder which one of Witches Jessica is. Definitely not Witch2, because her texts made her sound like a really old ex. Maybe Witch8. Or maybe she isn’t important enough to rank that high. I should ask Benedict when he gets back.

As we get to the gates, I enter the passcode. Declan drives up the winding road and parks in front of the main entrance.

We enter the nicely air-conditioned mansion together. Just as the door’s about to shut, there’s a hair-raising cry from behind me. Somebody rushes us from outside. I stop to see what’s going on, and Declan bumps into me.

The coffee I’m holding slops around, but the lid prevents it from spilling, thank God. I would’ve been annoyed if it stained my Dior.

“What the fuck?” Declan says, turning around.

I do the same, quickly positioning myself behind him. I’m an assistant, not a bodyguard. And I feel quite protected behind his wide shoulders and strong, muscled back.

A tall woman with dark brown hair pulled into a low ponytail is standing with her feet braced shoulder-width apart. Her eyes are too closely set on her face to be pretty, and she has a feral, angular look that makes her appear rather skeletal. Her breasts are full, although I’m pretty certain they’re fake. They aren’t quivering, not even a little, even though she’s breathing hard enough for me to see her chest rise and fall.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Declan’s voice is murderous.

“You can’t do this to me!” she screams, apparently oblivious to Declan’s mood.

Is this another ex-girlfriend? How come her security code still works?

“Who is that?” I ask. God, I love watching real-life drama. Now I wish I had a tub of popcorn.

“My…sister, Ella,” he grinds out.

“That’s your sister…?” Wow. I thought any sibling of his would be absolutely gorgeous. Maybe God ran out of gorgeousness after he got done with Declan. Besides, she isn’t outright ugly. It’s more like a complete lack of any sort of attractiveness.

The frothing at the mouth doesn’t help. Maybe God also ran out of “normal and sane people” genes, too.

“Half-sister,” Declan says.

Oh. I think half means they have the same father. Or is it the same mother? I can’t remember. Regardless, nobody would believe they’re even half related. “So how did she get in?”

“I climbed over the wall! This is important!” she yells.

“Isn’t that illegal, no matter how important ‘this’ is? What’s she really doing here?” I ask Declan.

“Stop talking to me, bitch!” She speaks like she’s the one who owns the mansion, jabbing her finger at me.

“I wasn’t talking to you. I thought that was super clear.”

“It was,” Declan says with a sigh that tells me he’s torn between murder and screaming. But there’s also a hint of amusement.

Regardless, I hope he opts for screaming. Murder is complicated, even with the best attorneys. I don’t think I can be his alibi, either, because Hae Min’s lawyers will be pissed if I perjure myself. Plus, Declan doesn’t pay me enough for perjury.

“Who the hell are you to talk back to me?” Ella screams, apparently focused on me for some reason.

“My name is Yuna, and I’m Declan’s assistant.”

I glance at the latte in my hand. I could throw it at her—coffee stains are a bitch to get out. But Ella’s Versace is from a collection that debuted three years ago. It’d just give her an excuse to update her wardrobe.

“Do you know who I am?” Ella says.

“I do now.” I wouldn’t want her to think she wasn’t special and start crying. Crying crazy women are harder to deal with than frothing crazy women.

“Are you Declan’s latest skank?”

“What is it with the people around here? I don’t think this Dior radiates skank vibes. It’s a classy piece from the latest collection.”

Ella takes a better look at my clothes, then swings her attention to Declan. “I cannot believe you bought that dress for her but can’t spare a little bit of money for my wedding!”

“He didn’t buy it. I did,” I say, but I don’t think she hears me from the way she’s breathing. It’s like she’s just climbed Mount Everest in heels. Mr. Choi, when I’m back in Korea, I’m going to give you a pay raise.

“You bitch!” Her face mottled with anger, Ella rushes at us. Which isn’t easy to do in high heels and a tight skirt.

Declan spreads his arms like a wall, standing between me and her, while I watch in lurid fascination.

Ella runs right into him, and ends up bouncing off and sprawling on the ground. Why didn’t she slow down or stop? Did she think Declan would blink and move out of the way? I mean, that would’ve been hilarious, too…as long as I moved with him. Because she would’ve slammed right into a heavy potted palm and probably knocked herself out.

Man, this is like American football! Except you do it in a mansion and in nicer clothes.

I clench my teeth to try to contain my laughter. But a small giggle escapes anyway.

“Are you laughing at me?” Ella starts to push herself up, then changes her mind and lunges on all fours. Her hand slashes out, and then she starts wailing. “My nails!”

I feel a stinging sensation on the side of my ankle. Ow. I take a few steps back. It better not get infected! Actually, forget infection. It’s a minor thing. But if there’s a scar? Ugh. I’ll nail her face to the wall with my stiletto.

“Stop hiding behind him and face me!”

“Just stop,” Declan yells.

“No,” I say almost at the same time. “I don’t face mad dogs on my own.”

“Mad dogs?” Ella says.

“Mad, rabid, whatever,” I clarify in case she’s dimwitted. “You’re literally drooling.”

“I deserve more money for my wedding!” Ella wails. “I need the dress of my dreams!”

“Why the hell would I pay for your dress when I don’t even plan to attend the ceremony?” Declan says.

He isn’t going to his sister’s wedding?Granted, she’s a half-sister, and she’s embarrassing, but I’m sure some sedatives will help control the excesses. In Korea, you would only fail to attend a sibling’s wedding if the other person was dead to you. And based on the tight set of Declan’s shoulders and his flinty voice, it looks like Ella’s deader than an ancient Egyptian mummy.

Ella’s face turns red, then white, then back to red. “Because… Because if you don’t, I’m going to sue this bitch!” She points at me. “She broke my nails!”

Is she serious? “You broke your nails scratching my leg. And I’m going to have you charged with assault,” I say with all the contempt I can muster. Eugene might have taken Ms. Kim and Mr. Choi away from me and frozen my account, but if Mom and Dad hear about the attack, somebody’s head will roll. Definitely Ella’s and maybe Eugene’s as well.

“What?” Declan immediately turns to me. “Are you all right?”

“Not particularly.” The lawyers at the Hae Min Group trained me well over the years. Always overstate the damage. “She attacked me viciously enough to break her own nails off. Look at her frothing.”

“Get the fuck out. Now.” Declan’s voice is as hard as iron as he grabs one of her arms and drags her toward the gates like trash about to be tossed into a Dumpster. “I’m calling the police and filing reports for trespassing and assault.”