The Billionaire and the Runaway Bride by Nadia Lee

Chapter Six

Yuna

Kim takes out her laptop and boots it, while the men go off to shoot pool on Tony’s new billiards table. I look around and find a white wall to stand in front of. Then I stretch my arm out and take a selfie.

The lighting is sort of sucky. It casts too much shadow on my face, making me look wan and haggard. Nobody wants to hire someone who looks like a piece of old lettuce.

“What are you doing?” Evie asks.

“Trying to take a decent photo for the résumé, but it’s not working. I’ll have to do it tomorrow morning when we have better light.”

I put my phone away and go back to the table. Eugene hasn’t replied. Probably too pissed off to come up with a good response. Heh.

“Why would you need a selfie?” Ivy says.

“Uh…for my résumé?” Why are they asking me this? Aren’t they the experts? “I can’t use a picture with a busy background. It wouldn’t look professional.”

“It isn’t professional to attach a selfie to a résumé, either,” Kim says.

“It isn’t? But every résumé I’ve seen had one. Not necessarily a selfie, but a good headshot.”

Evie looks at me curiously. “Really?”

“Yeah. In Korea, they always do.”

“You sure you aren’t mixing up dossiers with résumés?” Kim asks.

I spread my hands. “Possibly?” Maybe the personnel files I saw for the employees at the Ivy Foundation weren’t really résumés. But how am I supposed to know?

“Okay, let’s just write it the way an American company would want it.” Kim starts typing. “So. Your job experience?”

“The Ivy Foundation. But other than that, nothing. I didn’t even run the duty-free shopping division for the company.”

I say it with more regret than I ever thought would be possible. Hae Min has a very profitable duty-free shopping division, which is part of the department stores we own. It’s one thing I could’ve managed with some help. But I never wanted to run any part of the Hae Min Group. If I’d shown any interest in management, Dad would’ve definitely stopped me from going to Curtis, free tuition or no.

“So you did exactly what at the foundation?” Kim looks up, a hopeful expression on her face.

“Um…” I think for a second, wondering if I’m going to end up letting her down with my answer. But I don’t want to lie to her, either. “I usually tell people what to do…?”

“That sounds…bossy,” Ivy says with a small frown.

“We need to make it sound more résumé-y,” Evie says.

The women look at each other for a moment, their eyes calculating.

Kim says, “How about ‘Brainstormed and finalized strategic vision’?”

“Ooh, nice. ‘Steered the foundation in the direction that maximized its potential to serve our stakeholders,’” Pascal says.

Kim starts typing.

“Wow. That sounds really good,” I say. And totally fictional, but hey, whatever works. Getting a job comes first. I’ll worry about the rest later.

Besides, I’m going to work for a boss, so it won’t be my duty to come up with “strategic vision” or figure out how to “maximize potential.” I’ll just do whatever my boss wants me to do.

Jo nibbles on her lip, thinking. “Languages?”

“Right. Do you speak anything other than English and Korean?” Kim asks.

“French, Japanese, German and Italian,” I say. “And some Spanish and Mandarin. Very little Latin.”

Jo stares at me in shock. “I thought you studied piano.”

“I did, but I also had to learn other languages.”

Even people who go through an average Korean public education get at least six years or more of English as a second language. Maybe Americans don’t study foreign languages…?

“So you could read music notation?” Evie asks. “That’s in Italian and stuff, right?”

“Yeah, but the languages aren’t for that. They’re just something you learn because it makes it easier to do business overseas.”

“But isn’t that what translators are for?” Ivy says. She’s seen my mom’s translator in action.

“Yeah, but it’s easier to handle it yourself if you can. And also, it’s helpful if you want to, you know…keep someone out of a conversation.” As I say it, I’m mildly embarrassed that all the effort and time spent on mastering those languages were for something so shallow.

“What do you mean?” Kim asks.

“So, um…” I clear my throat, while telling myself I’ve never done it so I have nothing to be ashamed of. “Let’s say somebody who doesn’t belong wants to be part of a conversation, and everyone else is chaebol.”

“What’s a chay-bul?” Jo says.

“Korean conglomerates that are controlled by families,” Pascal says. Everyone looks at her, and she goes slightly red. “What? We do a lot of business in Asia.”

“Right. And chaebol families are like royalty. It isn’t like being a billionaire in America.” I give a small sigh. I wish it were like being a rich person in America, where it’s okay to just seek love and personal happiness. “Anyway, let’s say there’s one person, who’s outside the family, and everyone else is chaebol. If we don’t want that person to participate in the conversation, we’ll simply switch to English.”

I frown a little, remembering a scene at one party. A wife of some executive, who one of the snotty chaebol scions hated, came to say hello to a group of chaebol women, and how quickly they shifted from one language to another until there were tears in the woman’s eyes. It left a bad taste in my mouth. I might’ve gone over and said something if it weren’t for the fact that my mom had her arm looped through mine and was doing her best to introduce me to Dossier #74’s mom.

“At least we’ll be able to join in the convo,” Pascal says lightly.

“Yeah, but lots of Koreans can manage English these days. So if that doesn’t work, you switch to French. Or German.”

“A lot of effort just to ostracize somebody,” Evie says.

“But it might help with the job hunt. Never hurts to be multilingual, even if the job description doesn’t say you need to be,” Kim says, typing.

“But I don’t have any kind of, like, special certification or anything if they’re looking for one of those,” I say. “I never bothered because I never needed any.”

“It’s not like they’re going to test you. Unless you apply to be a translator.” Pascal grows thoughtful. “Do you want to be a translator?”

I shudder. I speak reasonably well, but not enough to do business, especially not in French. And I’d hate to be responsible for my boss losing money. He’d bury me. Then stomp on my grave with feces-covered boots and spit on the properly dirtied dirt. “Not really.”

Kim’s phone pings, and she picks it up to check the message. Her eyes brighten. “Oh, talk about serendipity!”

“What?”

“There’s this guy Benedict I’m friendly with, and he sent out an SOS to a bunch of us. He says his boss is looking for an assistant.”

“That doesn’t sound too terrible,” I say slowly. I’ve seen how Ms. Kim works. And I know how other executive assistants employed by Hae Min work. I can probably manage that, as long as it isn’t too senior a position. Or somebody asks me to make a PowerPoint presentation, because that’s always been above my skill set. Or Excel. Excel is what happens when Satan and Silicon Valley have an oopsie baby after a one-night stand they don’t want to think about.

Kim’s phone pings again. She frowns. “Hmm… This explains why he hasn’t found anyone yet.”

“What’s wrong? Is his boss the devil’s first born?” I ask.

“No. It’s a temp position. Only for two months. Who wants to cater to some celebrity’s crazy impulses, only to be discarded after eight weeks?” Kim sounds insulted.

But my curiosity is piqued. “A celebrity? Who? A guy? Somebody super hot?”

“Can’t say. It’s completely confidential. You also need to sign an NDA.”

“Ooh. So secretive.” I grin. “I can do that. Besides, eight weeks is perfect.”

“Why? How are you going to prove to your family anything in such a short period of time?” Ivy says.

“Because.” I tap the table. “The whole point of cutting me off is to get me to marry. Eugene’s not going to want me to get caught up in an actual career. What if I like it so much I refuse to come back? I’m already twenty-nine, you know.”

Jo looks at me like she doesn’t get it. “So? Twenty-nine isn’t too late to start fresh.”

“But twenty-nine is one year away from thirty. The goal is to marry me off before the big three-zero.”

“I don’t want to sound rude, but your brother’s weird,” Evie says.

“He is, on this point,” I agree. “But even if it takes a little longer than eight weeks, at least this gives me something to put on my résumé other than the Ivy Foundation experience. So I think it’ll be fine. I’m not going to be picky about it. Besides, I get to work for a celeb.”

“Just don’t fall for him,” Kim says. “Assistants falling for their bosses? Never ends well. And one of this guy’s former assistants found herself in jail.”

“Jail? Didn’t they run a background check?”

“She was fine until she started working for him. Then she fell in love and decided it would be a good idea to break into his house at night while he was asleep and seduce him. She jumped on him buck naked and cracked one of his ribs.”

“Oh my God, that’s crazy.”

“Like I said—doesn’t end well.”

“Not to mention, so unprofessional,” Nate says, wandering into the room. He puts an arm around Evie’s shoulders.

We all stare at him. He stares back. The fact that he doesn’t get the irony of his statement is stunning. But then, that’s the Sterling family for you. To them, what they want is what they’re entitled to, and logic and shame are for other people. Nate embodies the Sterling spirit well, probably even better than his brother.

“Uh, you married your assistant,” Evie points out. “Me.” She’s still normal because she became a Sterling through marriage.

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t count. I fell in love with you first.” He kisses her temple. “Totally different.”

Evie flushes, while we all look at each other and laugh. Nate just shrugs.

Tony comes into the room.

“What are you doing back?” Ivy asks. “I thought you were playing pool.”

“He lost,” Tony says, pointing at Nate.

“That’s your story. I let you win,” Nate says.

The rest of the men show up, talking trash about each other’s pool skills. Edgar wanders over to where Kim’s working. “How’s the résumé coming along?”

“Almost done. We were just talking about sending it off to somebody I know,” Kim says. “I was telling her about the issues his boss has been having.”

“Yeah, being so hot a bunch of women pant over him,” Jo says lightly. “Doesn’t seem like a problem problem.”

Kim shakes her head. “God gave women self-control and self-respect for a reason.”

“Maybe he’s hot enough to overwhelm both,” I say, thinking about that stranger at the airport. He almost made me forget myself. Actually, if I’d met him before Eugene pulled his I froze your accounts stunt, I might’ve called him…and hung out and let things go from there.

“Please.” Kim scoffs. “My boss is hot, especially given his age, and I never fell for him.”

Wyatt takes her hand and kisses the back of it. “Why would you, when you have me?”

“I mean before you popped back into my life.” Kim pats her fiancé’s arm.

A wave of pure longing pulses through me. This is what I want. It’s unfolding right here, right in front of me, played out by my friends, and my heart aches not only because I don’t have it, but because my family doesn’t think I should aim for it at all.

But they’re wrong. I’m going to aim as high as possible, even if I have to spend the next eight weeks babysitting a mystery man.