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Outside, the loud torrential rain hit everything hard. My ears boomed with the sudden silence when I made it inside the entrance and hurried up the stairs.
The man sat on the stairs outside Tai’s apartment door, a cigarette dangling carelessly between his long fingers. Four crushed stubs loitered in the space between his expensive polished shoes. He looked at me like the stubs were my fault, like I’d kept him waiting, the smoke from the cigarette moving like a slowly dancing snake between us.
One glance was enough. The sharp pressed creases of the pants, the tailored dark suit, dark silk shirt, dark silk tie. I knew who he was. Choi Mujin, the boss.
I pulled a tight blank expression on my face and pretended I didn’t. Tai was the boy my father had ordered to keep an eye on me. Especially during the times I refused to talk my father. Someone to keep me safe.
Tai, the gangster wannabe, who was too sweet, and gambled too much, and who did not like girls the way he liked bad boys. Maybe my father wanted Tai to wisen up. To get out of a life he wasn’t cut out for. The friendship was a surprise to both Tai and me. Now, Tai was in trouble. He needed time. I’d give it to him. I’d promised.
Sure, I had heard the rumors. I’d listened to Dad’s and Tai’s stories. You’d think there be a warning in there somewhere. Something to let me know about Choi, the boss. About that lean coiled build that filled out the suit. A mention of the sharp angles of his cheek bones, the dark expressive eyes and the scruffy beard that combined carelessness with perfect control. Time had etched some hard lines into his face, but the result was vintage, not worn.
Then again, mostly it was the way his presence filled the space effortlessly. Any space, I bet. I sensed him like a force field, like a dangerous electric current.
Someone from Choi’s crew waiting would have been bad. Finding the boss here in person was worse. It meant he wanted answers. It meant he knew.
I fished the key out of my skirt pocket and headed for the door’s lock like a missile on autopilot. The key eased into the slot with a click, but the bolt wouldn’t budge. I leaned closer to the lock and tried turning the key again. Nothing. Rain dripped from my long hair. My top and skirt were soaked and my footing felt slippery, like my flip-flops had sold me out, too.
He put the cigarette out of its misery, crushing under the heel of his shoe. I hid behind my curtain of wet hair.
I didn’t hear him rise or move. My whole focus was on the lock; getting the bolt to turn and getting to the relative safety behind Tai’s door.
He eased in behind me, not touching but so close the normal space between strangers was violated. His sleeve brushed my shoulder when he put his hand on the door in front of my face. The fingernails of those long, elegant fingers whitened on the gray paint. He pushed.
“Try it again,” he murmured, his lips close to my ear.
His voice was part of it, I realized. All deep rumble, all authority.
He’d been here before. He’d been here with Tai. Dread pooled in my belly. Tai hadn’t told me.
I twisted the key. The bolt retracted with a loud, hard click.
I opened the door and slipped inside. I tried to close it behind me, but there were those long, strong fingers again, holding it open while he followed me inside with a big cat’s easy liquid gait. The kind of big cat that will have you for dinner, or maybe just play around to see how long you’ll last.
I shot him a blank glare and lead the way. Fear trickled down my back. I had no choice. I had to try to steal the USB drive right in front of him.
“You know who I am.”
That voice again.
Even if I hadn’t known, I’d be tempted to lie to agree, to keep him calm, even keeled. I knew without a doubt that every violent story was true. He looked cool and detached on the outside, but there was no mistake, there was a raging firestorm inside fighting every second to break out.
I nodded, playing a cool I didn’t feel. I wasn’t afraid. Not for me. I was very afraid for what would happen to Tai if I didn’t fix this.
The place was tiny and cluttered. It smelled of Tai. Cigarettes and sweaty boy. The smell of him grew my heart and shrunk my brain.
I could do this.
I slipped out of the flip-flops and hiked the tote bag higher on my shoulder. The closet door in the tiny hallway was ajar. I grabbed a towel from Tai’s total stash of three. Drying myself off gave me a way to hide my nerves. I walked to the single window and peered between the slats of the shades.
The rain still poured outside. A big black car with tinted windows was parked at the corner. I wrapped the towel over my shoulders and sighed. Choi had back up, I was on my own.
“Girlfriend.” Again, not a question. But this time he was wrong.
I turned to look at him. “Friend,” I said. “I promised to feed Freddy.” I nodded at the glass bowl on the messy bedside table. “The goldfish.”
“Freddy.”
“Federico. Like the poet.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. His eyes softens. There’s a hint of a different man, dangerous in a whole other way. “Tai knows poets?” he says.
“I do.” I saunter over the bowl and pick up the tin with fish food.
He follows. He makes a sound and holds out his hand. I give him the tin. He shakes it. Nothing rattles inside. But he knows. He knows it’s here. He already suspects that’s why I’ve come.
A cellphone chimes. Wary eyes on me, Choi picks it up with a gruff “Yeah?”.
Something is up. It’s not good. “Sit tight.”
He hangs up and quickly moves to the window. He hooks a finger between the slats and peers outside. “Company,” he tells me.
I pick up the fishbowl, Freddy darting inside. My ring finger touches the duct tape under the hollow base. I head for the door.
“Leave the fish.”
“My apartment is upstairs.”
I head up the stairs, discretely pulling the USB from the bowl. Choi is right behind me. I won’t lose him that easy.
I have my hands full. I stop in front of my door. “Take the keychain from my bag.”
For a big, bad man, he takes orders graciously. He digs the keychain out in no time, the rainbow-colored lanyard crashing with the somber darkness of his suit. Two floors down the entrance door flies open.
“Blue key,” I breathe.
Hurried heavy steps coming up the stairs beneath us. There’s more than one. More than three. They speak in hushed tones.
He’s quick and quiet, timing the turn of the key to when they kick in the door below us. We slip inside. He locks the door behind us without a sound.
The walls are thin. I hear them barge into Tai’s place. They tear through Tai’s things like a tornado. A chair falls. There’s muffled thumps and screeches. Voices. Then a louder one, or one the carries more weight. I can’t make out the words, but it’s an order.
It must be all over my face. Choi’s eyes ask the question.
“My shoes,” I mouth. I’ve left my wet flip-flops behind, inside Tai’s door.
His eyes dart to my bare feet, troubled wrinkles crease the skin between his brows.
Someones—plural—are coming up the stairs.
I hold my breath. In the dim crowded space, my eyes meet his. Slowly Choi’s arm snakes under the jacket, returning with a knife.
The door handle twists. Someone is pulling at the door across the hall, too. They move along, heading to the floor above.
We don’t move. The danger makes me hyper aware. I’ve let myself get locked in with the boss I’m trying to save Tai from. Judging from the way he stands, he’d use the knife to protect us—me.
He’s so close, I pick up the scent of cologne. Something light and spicy, not sweet.
I’m all ears, listening for steps coming down the stairs again, but my eyes begin to wander. There’s a few strands of silver in his hair. I didn’t see them before. I see a pulse beat on the column of his neck, just above the crisp collar. I crush the insane impulse to put my finger there.
He’s taking me in too. I catch him looking at my mouth, probably the last pitch stop going from my bare legs to my wet clinging clothes.
There’s that almost smirk again. The one that suddenly worries me more than the sharp blade of the knife or a staircase full of thugs.
I tell myself it’s natural. It’s a dangerous situation. It’s my survival instincts at work making him more attractive by the minute. Too bad I’m a terrible liar. Too bad he’s a handsome man. Too bad he knows it.
We both freeze, startled by a sound above. Soon, bodies move down the stairs on the other side of the door.
They return to Tai’s place. There’s a hum of voices below.
As long as we are quiet, they won’t know we are here. Like he’s read my mind, he takes out his phone and sets it to vibrate. He punches in a quick text: “Got away. Go.”
He motions with his head for me to move. I take care making sure my steps are soundless.
My room is the same size and layout as Tai’s. Just tidy and clean. Choi brushes my arm and I stop. He moves in and eases the heavy fishbowl out of my hands.
Too late. Not that I’m about to tell him.
He holds it close to his face, inspecting the plastic plant, the Easter Island statue and the small temple ruin.
Another look at me, eyes narrowed. It’s a challenge. He’s waiting for me to tell him where it is.
I try to look blank and clueless but I cross my arms, and just like that my body betrays me. He flashes me a full smirk. It’s devastating. A heated bolt snakes through my body.
Somewhere under our feet, dangerous men laugh in Tai’s apartment.
Choi puts the fishbowl on my desk. Eyes on me, he eases out of his suit jacket. He unbuttons the cuff on his left sleeve and folds it up to the elbow.
Taunting, he waves me closer, tugging gently at my elbow till I’m way inside his personal space. Or he’s in mine. When he moves my hair behind my ear with that bare left hand of his, I suppress a shudder.
He leans in. “You have a name, Tai’s friend?” he whispers, his warm breath grazing my ear. I nod once, keeping my gaze on the intricate pretty pattern of his silk tie. You really can’t see it until you’re too close. Pity.
When I don’t answer, he shakes his head. He slides the tote off my shoulder. My wallet spills my secrets: My student ID states I’m Ji-woo Yoon, seventeen.
“What will we find, Ji-woo?”
He moves to stand behind me, still way too close. Looking over my shoulder close. I feel the heat from him. My stupid body is into this new closeness. My mind better not get lost the same way.
I stare glumly at Freddy. The fish shoots me a glance. The day is not panning out the way we hoped.
Choi gently takes my left wrist and guides my hand into the goldfish bowl, “The Easter Island guy seems like Tai.”
He is right. Inside the hollow miniature statue is where Tai first suggested he’d hide the USB-drive.
Choi is wrong because I reminded Tai that tech and water don’t mix.
I pick up the slimy statue and let him inspect it before I put it to the side on the desk. He guides my hand back into the water. I pick up the slimy fake temple ruin. After a brief inspection, off to the side it goes. His grip on my wrist changes. Two strong fingers slide across the back of my hand. I can feel his chin lightly on my shoulder and the side of his head touching mine, like it’s a fishing game in street fair and we’re one of those couples trying their luck together.
“Only the sad plant left. You should have just told me, Ji-woo.”
I should have, but it’s too late now. My heart is beating up a storm knowing there is nothing attached to the plant.
“Breathe,” he says softly in my ear.
He guides my hand again. I pull up the fake plant. It needs no inspection. I drop it to the side. He finishes off the fishing expedition by raking through the bright blue sand, his warm fingers intertwined with mine. Poor Freddy darts like crazy while his world stirs around him.
I’m only reminded that I still have Tai’s towel over my shoulders when it’s peeled off. He moves away. A part of me is disappointed. I am disappointed I’m disappointed. After drying his hand and arm, Choi hands the towel back to me. I dry my hand and hope my skin don’t smell like fish tank.
Downstairs, someone is moving. There’s a sound from Tai’s kitchenette.
I feel Choi’s cool eyes on me again. A mix of disapproval and gleaming interest. Like he is turning something over in his mind, weighing the options. Hands in his pockets, he takes his time.
I do my best not to squirm. He is still in my personal space, standing so close.
The troubled wrinkles between his brows are back. When he skims the outline of my right arm, treacherous goosebumps follow his touch. “They’ll wait for Tai. They are not going anywhere.” He pauses. “Meaning, I’m not going anywhere.”
I meet his gaze, refusing to shy away.
“Here’s the real problem,” he says. His fingers draw a line along my shoulder, coming to a rest in the hollow of my neck. I feel his exhale as acutely as his fingertips. Is it a sigh or exasperation? He leans in, directing his next word directly to my sensitive ear. “A stubborn, quiet girl.”
His fingers are on the move again, heading back to my shoulder, then edging slowly, torturously back down my arm again.
“Clever. Coolheaded,” he murmurs. “No hesitation. Took the fishbowl. Got out.” His gaze flicks to mine. “But where did she put it?”
His gaze locks mine, he takes the towel I’ve nervously folded, shakes it lose and let it drop to the floor. He takes my hands, his warm fingers grazing my palms. His touch is gentle, but it’s an intrusion nevertheless.
I draw a jagged breath and look away.
“Are you afraid?”
I school my face in blankness. “No.”
He searches my face for clues. The mix of disbelief and hot curiosity confuses me. “You have no reason to hurt me,” I add, but my voice is breathless, with an unspoken question mark at the end.
Choi slowly shakes his head again. “Why does she not cry for help? They’d hear you.”
I won’t answer and he knows. He says it for me instead, “Because they can’t have it.”
He cups my face with his hand. “You’re right. Them finding it is worse. But now you’re here, trapped with me, and I wonder if you realize how bad that could turn.”
I blush. I hate myself for blushing under his touch, for the fire he ignites inside me. Still, I say nothing.
His eyes soften. Choi’s smile is quick and unexpected, like the sun breaking out of a thundercloud.
“Priceless,” he whispers. “So rare. People are either loyal, or they’re not. Some think it’s about who you serve, they think it’s fear keeping people in line. They’re wrong. It’s about who you are.”
His approval is as unexpected as it is nerve-wracking.
“You are loyal, Ji-woo. You’ve earned a break. I trust you to destroy the USB-drive. Next time you see Tai, tell him I was waiting. Tell him, I came here to gut him like a fish for even thinking about selling me out to the assholes downstairs. Thanks to you, I won’t look for him, but he can never return. Understood?”
I nod once.
Choi studies me. He eases from stern boss to something dangerous and darkly hungry in a heartbeat. The way his fingers grazes my cheek, my hair. The way I can sense he’s savoring the heated thing that has filled the air between us since we came here.
He says, “You’re so young, there needs to be a price to pay for you, too. You need to learn not to place your loyalty with someone who isn’t worth it.”
His lips brushes against mine. If he needs an invitation, I unknowingly grant it. I’m all tingling senses. Fingers slide through my hair, grasping the back of my head. A hand on the small of my back pulling me flush against him. The murmurs of men in the room below our feet. The silk of his shirt, his firm warm chest under the sheer material.
I have been kissed, but never like this. Never claimed like this. I moan from the taste of him, every part of me craving more.
Choi pulls away. There’s the softest smirk for me.
“Stay away from criminals,” he says.
And just like that, he picks up his jacket and slips out of my apartment, quiet like a cat.
I don’t tell anyone. I can’t. How could I tell my father I kissed his boss and liked it?
What if it could have kept Dad safe? What if he had been more careful hiding his betrayal from Choi Mujin?
Years later, not telling my father will be my life’s biggest regret.