Dang, it’s good to be home again.
Getting up, I brush my teeth before I head out of my room. Wearing the t-shirt and sweatpants I slept in, I make my way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
I’m greeted with the sight of Mom making gyeran-mari, a Korean-style omelet.
“Mmh… yummy,” I murmur.
After pouring myself some coffee, I take a seat at the kitchen table.
“I thought I’d get as much food into you as possible before school starts again,” Mom mutters. She pins me with a frown. “Did you eat at all while on the trip?”
“Of course,” I chuckle. “You worry too much.”
“A mother can never worry too much,” she grumbles.
As I take a sip of my beverage, Dad walks into the kitchen with someone behind him. When my eyes lock with Tristan’s, the coffee goes down the wrong pipe. My hand flies up as I dart off the chair to get to the sink while I cough my lungs out.
“Eomeo!” Mom gasps. “You almost sprayed coffee all over our breakfast.”
I’ve just managed to catch my breath when a hand begins to pat my back, and a paper towel appears in front of my face. I feel the tension coming off Tristan in waves as he leans into me, whispering, “Don’t worry, I seem to have that effect on people.”
I grab the paper towel from his hand and quickly clean myself. Moving around Tristan, I throw it in the trash and then mumble, “Excuse me while I change.”
The moment I’m out of the kitchen, I take a deep breath. Feeling frazzled, I rush to the safety of my room.
What is Tristan doing here? Is it for business?
I was shocked out of my mind when he asked me to have dinner with him the night before, but I thought I made it clear I’m not interested?
He might be attractive, and I love a bad boy as much as the next girl, but… Tristan’s like the godfather of bad boys. The apprehension I felt when I was near him is a clear warning he’s dangerous.
With my father being the attorney for CRC Holdings, I’ve overheard conversations I’ve never shared with anyone else. There have been many occasions, Dad and a fellow attorney, Mr. West, had to bail Tristan out of trouble.
Two months ago, Tristan almost got arrested for beating a guy half to death. If I recall correctly, it was someone who dared to date Tristan’s sister, Danny.
Yeah, my answer will remain no. Mom raised me the Korean way, which means I’m reserved when it comes to dating. Right now, all my focus is on completing my senior year with flying colors. I’m going to study law like Dad once I attend Trinity Academy, and I can’t afford any blemishes on my record.
Changing into a pair of jeans and a cashmere sweater, I contemplate staying in my room until Tristan leaves.
“Hana!” Mom calls. “Come eat.”
Letting out a sigh, my shoulders droop. “Coming,” I yell back.
Even though I have zero interest in dating Tristan, I still go to my dresser, and sitting down, I quickly pull a brush through my hair. Putting on some lipgloss, I rub my lips together.
I take a deep breath before I get up to go back downstairs.
When I find the kitchen empty, I mutter, “Don’t tell me we’re eating in the dining room.”
“Your parents moved the food to the patio,” Tristan suddenly says behind me.
I swing around, and then I back peddle into a counter as Tristan comes right at me. “Morning, Hana.” His gaze drifts over me before meeting my eyes. “I trust you slept well?”
He stops an inch from me, way too close for comfort. I take in the faultless suit he’s wearing, sans the jacket.
He’s too attractive.
Too intense.
“Morning.” My voice sounds raspy, and I quickly clear my throat. “I did, thank you.” I try to duck to his right so I can go to the patio. “We should go eat.”
Tristan moves to block my way, and his fingers clamp around my wrist. He tilts his head, and the moment I look up, his breath fans over my lips.
My heart skips a beat before it begins to hammer in my chest. Somehow I manage to say, “I said no. My answer isn’t going to change.”
The corner of his mouth curves up into a panty-melting smirk. “Reconsider.”
I shake my head as I twist myself free from his grip on my wrist. “No, Tristan.” My eyes lock with his, and I drop my voice to a whisper in case one of my parents is nearby, “I’ve overheard my father’s calls.”
Tristan pulls back, and his eyes narrow slightly, making him look downright scary. His voice is deceptively low as he asks, “You have?” He tilts his head. “What have you heard?”
Refusing to cower in front of him, I force my chin up. “You almost beat a man to death.”