The outfit was the hardest to choose. I don’t have a suit. I’ve never had a reason to wear one, so I never wasted money on anything like that. I settled on a pale cream lacy Monique Lhuillier structured dress that ends an inch and a half above my knees and has long see-through sleeves. With a pair of super-cute nude Dior stilettos and an oversized Chanel bag, I look professional enough, even though Eugene’s scoffing remark plays in my head.
Your bag costs more than what Ms. Hong makes in a month.
Whatever. Stop thinking about Eugene and focus on the interview. Kim told me—after her friend’s approval—that the boss is a model and actor. He’s also into real estate, liquor, collecting art and cryptocurrencies. A big portion of his fortune came from early investments in cryptocurrencies, rather than just modeling and acting. She said knowing something about his interests might help me score points.
Real estate is all about location, location and location. And tax advantages, according to my dad.
As for liquor, I know what’s good when I taste it.
Art collections can be about art, or investment, money laundering or some other illicit stuff. I heard how a rival chaebol’s heiress got into trouble over that, although she got away with a minor slap on the wrist. I doubt this model/actor is into the bad stuff, because if he were, Kim wouldn’t have sent my résumé to him.
Cryptocurrencies… They’re not something I’m familiar with, but nobody’s perfect.
Besides, this is my first interview. It’s entirely possible that I might not get a job at all. And that’s okay, I tell myself. Just consider it a practice session.
Although…if I do get a job today, I’ll have some champagne to celebrate. And rub it in Eugene’s face.
I smile at the man who opens the door to my potential boss’s suite. He’s got brown hair and brown eyes, and a slightly lanky frame that’s wrapped in a pale green shirt. The overall effect is of a tree in spring. He smiles back, all friendly and slickly professional. “You must be Yuna. I’m Benedict Brown.”
The perfect last name to match his hair and eye color.
“Come on in. Declan’s waiting for you,” he says, gesturing at me.
I walk inside the huge suite, barely noticing the luxurious furnishings. I’ve been to the Aylster a few times before.
My gaze falls on the man sprawled on a couch, and my smile freezes in place.
It’s the man from the airport. The underwear model.
I blink, wondering if I’m simply hallucinating because I’ve been thinking about him. But nope. It’s really him.
His eyes run over me in close scrutiny. There’s an X-ray intensity in his gaze that makes me feel like I’m not wearing anything.
My toes curl with something between anticipation and apprehension. This interview is definitely going to veer off into uncharted territory.
Chapter Ten
Declan
Benedict brings Yuna to the couch opposite mine. Still not quite believing what I’m seeing, I stand up and gesture for her to take a seat.
She sits down, knees together like she’s doing a photoshoot on how to sit like a lady. I reclaim my position, but sit up straight, since it’s hard to do an interview while draped over a couch like a strip of limp bacon.
“So. You’re Yuna,” I say.
“Yes. And you must be Declan.”
“Declan Winters.” I extend my hand, hoping she’ll give me her full name. If she doesn’t, I’ll just look at her résumé later.
“Yuna Hae.”
She takes my hand and gives it a couple of good pumps. Her fingers are long, strong and incredibly soft and warm, like velvet left out in the sun.
Electric jolts more intense than I felt at the airport seem to shoot from her palm into my arm and the rest of my body. My heart beats funny—and a little too fast. Excitement pumps through my system, just like it does every time I spot something and decide I want it.
And I want Yuna Hae.
Hell, I’ve wanted her since I heard her play the piano in Incheon.