The Billionaire and the Runaway Bride by Nadia Lee

Chapter Forty

Yuna

I pick at my oysters. The conversation is strained, with lots of gaps, which is unusual, because Mom can engage on any topic she wishes with ease. She’s a consummate dinner party hostess, after all. I’m pretty sure she’s doing it on purpose to increase the awkwardness. And it doesn’t help that I can’t think of any other topic for conversation right now. I really want to talk to Mom about what’s going on with the family and the company, but I can’t with Declan around. Plus, I think Mom offended him when she scoffed at his fame and what he can provide for me. Declan’s a proud man, and he’s worked hard to build his career. You don’t get to star in two hit shows on Netflix by lounging around by a pool all day.

Mom could’ve been more tactful, even if she isn’t crazy about his choice of occupation. And really, it isn’t like he’s one of those wild-child celebrities who go to orgies and snort drugs and drink alcohol until they need to have their stomachs pumped.

I’m proud of him because Hollywood is super competitive. You need more than just a handsome face. And I hope Mom sees that, too—and soon.

After dinner, we exit the restaurant.

“I have to go to Ivy’s,” I say as Mom and her entourage get off one floor down from Angelina. Hopefully, I can have Declan drive me home. His home.

“But I thought you were going to stay with me now,” she says.

Normally I would, but I don’t want to spend the rest of the weekend fighting off Mom’s attempt to match me with one of the three dossiers. Or be forced to listen to Ryu Taejo’s violin performance and hear her gush like we’re a match made in heaven. If I wanted to marry a violinist, Curtis had plenty of prodigies to choose from.

“I’ll see if I can come by tomorrow,” I say instead.

“You will come by because we have a facial appointment.” She strokes my cheek affectionately. “You work too hard. It looks like you’ve aged ten years since I saw you last month.”

I laugh. I swear, there must be a secret society of Korean moms where they exchange the best over-the-top lines to use on their children. “I doubt that.” Although if I look ten years older now, maybe the dossiers will lose interest. They want a young and pretty wife, not some hag. On the other hand, I don’t want to look old and haggard just to avoid marrying my family’s choice. The love of my life deserves the fresh, beautiful me!

Hell, I deserve to be fresh and beautiful, just because it makes me feel good about myself.

“Good night,” Declan says.

“Good night,” Mom says politely, thank God. It is, however, a good sign she didn’t speak in Korean the entire time and have Ms. Lim translate for her. She does that sometimes with people she doesn’t feel like talking to. Talk about awkward.

Declan and I walk out of the hotel. Mr. Choi and Ms. Kim follow.

“You’re coming with me now?” I ask Mr. Choi in Korean, doing my best to hide my annoyance, since he’s probably just doing what he’s been told.

“Yes, Ms. Hae. Your mother’s orders. She’s worried about your safety. She’s going to ask more members of the security team to fly over to join us.”

“That’s such an overreaction. You’re more than capable of protecting me.”

Mr. Choi flushes a little, but Ms. Kim steps in. “She read the latest crime statistics for Los Angeles and is concerned.”

I sigh. Mom thinks people in American cities go around snarling, “Make my day,” and having shootouts in broad daylight like in Dirty Harry. Hollywood needs to make more realistic movies.

“So. Who are these two?” Declan asks, eyeing my small entourage.

“My bodyguard/chauffeur and my assistant. Mr. Choi and Ms. Kim. They’re great people, but they report to my mom. They speak excellent English, if you’re wondering. And they really report everything to my mom, right down to when I sneeze.”

Mr. Choi and Ms. Kim smile at Declan.

Declan smiles back, although it doesn’t have its usual sparkle. He looks a bit puzzled. And apprehensive. “Are they driving you?”

“No. You’re driving me.” I angle myself so that Mr. Choi and Ms. Kim can’t see my face. So we can talk, I mouth. “They can follow in another car.”

“Ms. Hae, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Mr. Choi says.

“Declan’s an excellent driver,” I say, although I know what he’s really worried about. He thinks Declan and I might do something inappropriate that will upset Mom.

I feel slightly sorry for Mr. Choi. He’s too late, for one thing. Declan and I already did it. And I’m too old to be chaperoned, and this is the twenty-first century. He really has a thankless job.

The valets bring out Declan’s Lamborghini and a black Mercedes for Mr. Choi and Ms. Kim. I climb into the passenger seat, and Declan takes off.

I let out my first easy breath. It’s just comforting and safe to be around Declan. I adore my mother, but she can be a bit much, especially when something’s bugging her. I just wish I knew what it was so I could figure out the best way of dealing with her.

“So, where are we going? Your place or mine?” he asks.

“Mine,” I say morosely. “Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it from Mom because Ms. Kim will tell her.” And right now, I’d rather not have a battle with her, especially when I’m going to be seeing him on Monday anyway.

“Is Ms. Kim the one your mom was talking about? The one who’s supposedly going to replace you?”

“Yup. And she isn’t wrong about Ms. Kim being amazing. She’s very thorough.” Which is why I like her even when she’s spying on me. Sloppy assistants are the worst.

“Yeah, but she’s never going to be as amazing as you are.”

I smile. He doesn’t sound too peeved about Mom’s high-handedness. “Thanks. And thanks for being patient at the restaurant. My mother can be very stubborn.”

“She cares about you.”

“Yes, but…” I sigh. “She wasn’t kind about your career. Sorry about that.”

“Does she have some kind of issue with celebrities?”

“It’s not really her, it’s the family. In Korea, high-profile families like mine don’t like celebrities. We value our privacy too much. Media attention is generally undesirable because most of it is just clickbait headlines, which means most stories tend to be negative. We like to control what goes out and what’s said about us. But celebrities are different. Even if you don’t care for it, you need the attention and spotlight. You want people to talk about you and write about you.”

“But that’s Korea. We’re in L.A., and the tabloids aren’t going to be writing about you.”

“Not the American tabloids. But the Korean media is going to be very, very interested.” A slight headache is developing. It always happens when Mom and I discuss the dossiers. “And they won’t be kind to you, because they want sensational headlines. I should’ve thought about that.”

Declan’s life isn’t for public consumption for amusement and advertising money. Just like mine isn’t.

“No, you shouldn’t. You should always do what makes you happy.”

His left hand is clenched around the steering wheel, but he reaches out with his right and takes mine gently, like it’s a flower. He threads his fingers through and squeezes.

The painful ticking at the base of my skull eases. I’m used to people giving lip service to “You should do what makes you happy” and then turning around and wanting me to do something that makes them happy. And Mom’s no exception. She wants me to marry for love, but ideally from the dossiers. When I told her I was dating Declan and I like him, she said he wasn’t from the right level or class.

It’s so ridiculously medieval. I know about all the dirty scandals of the people from the “right” class. I doubt Declan’s done even five percent of their crap.

“It doesn’t feel like anything right now, but it’s going to be a problem as you spend more and more time together,” she said. “He’s never going to fit into our world. He’s never going to understand the restrictions and norms.”

Well, obviously. Chaebol is a world of its own even in Korea. And Declan being a model and actor is a huge deficit. Chaebol people almost never marry a celebrity. Even when they do…

I can’t think of a single chaebol-celebrity union that ended well. And I don’t recall any of them marrying foreigners, either. So a foreign celebrity is exponentially worse.

But then again, so what? That’s them, and I’m me. Just because I’m a chaebol heiress doesn’t mean I have to live my life a certain way to suit the chaebol norm. Screw that. I’ve only got one time around the track, and I’m not going to waste it trying to make someone else happy.

“Thank you,” I say. “I’m glad you’re on my side.”

“My pleasure. And are you going to quit early for real?” he asks.

“I don’t want to. But I have to warn you, if I continue to work for you, Mr. Choi and Ms. Kim are going to tag along. Plus, Mom apparently asked for more bodyguards. They’ll be here in the next day or two.”

“Why do you need so many? Are you in some kind of trouble?” His voice grows taut. “A stalker or something?” He should know all about stalkers and freaks. Just look at his dumb ex and that sister of his. The half one. Given how ugly and foul she is, I don’t think she should count as even half a sibling, really.

“No. She’s just being overprotective.”

“Because of me?” Declan asks. “She wants to make sure you and I maintain a respectable distance?”

“No, it isn’t about you. She’s always like this when I’m in the States.” Not that it always works. I’ve ditched them before, and I can probably ditch them again.

He sighs. “I feel like I’m back in high school with the girl’s parents hovering around and making sure I don’t do anything.”

I laugh at the image, then pull my hand away and pat his arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to get rid of Mr. Choi and Ms. Kim so we can have some private time.”

“How?”

“Oh, they can pick things up for me. Go get groceries. Whatever. Trust me.”

I press a peck on his lips to reassure him, because we’re already at Ivy’s place. Not because I don’t want to give him a real kiss, but because of Mr. Choi, who’s probably giving Declan a glare like Declan just stole my virginity. As far as Mr. Choi’s concerned, if I’m with a man my family hasn’t approved of, it’s his job to show disapproval.

I climb out of the Lamborghini and wave at my bodyguard.

He lowers the window and sticks his head out, angling it toward Declan.

“Be nice. There’s no need to give Declan a death stare,” I say in Korean before Mr. Choi can start, then blow a kiss at Declan. “I’ll see you tomorrow or Monday at the latest.”

Declan looks like he wants to argue, but he nods with a small sigh. “Okay.”

Mr. Choi watches until Declan’s gone. He’s taking his job way too seriously. Then again, I’m sure he doesn’t want to go back to internal audit.

Regardless, I need to brainstorm some ideas to get him and Ms. Kim off my back. And talk to Mom about what’s really going on with the family tomorrow when we’re in private.