Chapter 8
EIGHT
KIJA
“Yes, that will be all,” I say, giving a tight smile to the server, who is stalling, looking for an excuse to hover around the table. “Thank you. We’ll let you know if we need anything.”
“So attentive. Such a doll,” Chaeji simpers, causing the waitress to blush and scurry off. “You just have to give them what they want,” she adds, raising her wine glass to tap against mine before she takes a sip.
“You must get that a lot,” I mention, picking up my own glass to swirl the deep red liquid around, but not drinking any. As much as I might want some alcohol to take the edge off, I think staying sober is very much the right move for me tonight.
Chaeji bats her eyes at me in a way that I think is supposed to be sexy, but ends up making her look like she’s got something in her eye. “I’m so happy you contacted me. I’ve been wanting to see you again.”
“I know. And I told you that I didn’t think we had quite the same things in mind.” I want to choose my words carefully as we speak, to make sure I am not giving her the wrong idea. I’m trying to think of this as business—like I’m working out a deal that is beneficial to both parties.
From the moment we sat down at this table—deliberately picked for the very visible location, I’m sure—the confidence and self-possession radiating off Chaeji has been both impressive and a little suffocating.
She’s clearly got a plan of some sort, a mission to convince me of something since texting me hasn’t gotten the results she wanted.
She shifts in her seat, leaning onto one hip and drawing attention to the way she crosses her legs, the slit in her skirt pulling apart to reveal more of her thigh.
It reminds me of Yung-Sun perched on my desk, the intentional way he moved. But he’d been casual about it, almost nonchalant. This feels like she’s pulling out all her best moves to tempt me into something. So similar, but so different somehow.
I want to tell her I’ve seen it all before. Maybe never quite like this, so meticulously calculated. Part of me expects some sort of presentation with charts and graphs to make her case, but maybe that’s just a result of sitting through so many meetings that feel like they’re just for show.
“How have you been?” she asks, folding her hands demurely in front of her.
“I’m well, thank you,” I reply. “I don’t think we’re here for pleasantries, though. Whatever you have to say, I’m giving you the chance to say it to me, rather than dropping cryptic hints or telling stories that aren’t true in interviews.”
Chaeji perks up immediately, obviously pleased that I saw or heard her interview, as if this is an indicator of my interest in her or desire to keep up with her. “So you’ve been reading about me,” she practically purrs.
“My assistant mentioned it,” I correct. “She had some questions. So did I.”
“Ask me anything. I’ve got no secrets.” She leans over the table toward me. “And no shame.”
“Obviously,” I mumble, looking up and away from the cleavage she’s trying to show off. “How about you just tell me why we’re here? What do you want from me?”
“What don’t I want?” Chaeji counters, sitting back up as the server appears out of nowhere with a much more expensive bottle of wine than the one currently between us.
“Compliments of the owner,” the girl says, swiftly pouring a new glass for each of us. “Your food will be out momentarily.”
I wait until she leaves again. I can feel the frown trying to settle on my face as I tell her, “I’m going to need you to be more specific.”
“Kija. Oppa,” she begins, finger slipping around the rim of her wine glass. “Look at us here together. Everyone wants to be us. It’s perfect.”
Glancing around the room, I do see far more eyes on us than I am comfortable with. “I think they’re just curious.”
“Of course they are. They want to know what we’re going to be eating. What vintage the wine is. Where we’re going after this,” she pauses to smirk. “What we’ll be doing later tonight.”
“Okay… So let them wonder. But you need to tell me what’s going on.” I have to stop my foot from tapping against the table leg in annoyance. “Just lay it out, Chaeji. What’s your goal here?”
She sighs, like she’s aggravated I won’t play along with her.
“Look, you’re the ideal boyfriend. Handsome.
Smart. Not a complete unknown, but you’re not some drama actor that everyone is already in love with and wants for themselves.
” She pauses as though she’s setting up her next words for maximum impact.
“Most importantly, you’re well respected. ”
“And?” We’re interrupted again, this time by a whole team of servers bringing out a multitude of plates and dishes I know we didn’t order.
When I raise an eyebrow in question, one of the waiters bows deeply and explains the chef wanted us to sample some of the best he has to offer.
Chaeji is preening under the attention of the staff and the idea that we’re somehow worthy of this sort of treatment.
I nod to each of them as they place the last of the bowls on our now very full table. “Thank you.”
While all the food looks amazing, and I’m actually pretty hungry, I have no desire to eat it, really. I’d much rather be at The Leafy Dragon with Jase where I can relax and slurp noodles without feeling like I’m on high alert the way I do right now, caught up in the middle of… whatever this is.
Chaeji picks over the selection, snagging bites from a few of them. “As I was saying, you are exactly what I need. You’re the kind of guy people look at and think, he’s husband material.”
I nearly spit out the tonkatsu I was chewing, about to choke at the mere mention of ‘husband.’ If she pulls out a ring, I’m making a run for it, and I don’t care who is watching.
I cough into the napkin and when I finally take a breath, I see her looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to recover. “What?”
“I like you. And I think you’re very sexy.” She nibbles on a dumpling, then sets it aside. “I made that clear when we went out. And via text, many times since then. I thought for sure you’d come back around to give me another chance. But we got there in the end, because here we are.”
The frustration is starting to make me angry. I just want to know what she wants so I can start making an exit strategy. “Chaeji. Please get to the point.”
She scowls. “Is this just business to you?”
“I’m trying to figure out what this is, period. Or what you want it to be,” I mutter, reaching for my bonus glass of wine. I’m not a huge fan of makgeolli, but I doubt anyone is going to get me a beer here. “I need to know what you want from me.”
“Probably the same thing every woman you’ve ever been with has wanted. I want your time. I want your attention,” she says. “But I also want you to walk red carpets with me and be seen places like this. A very visible boyfriend. A public relationship.”
“Why me?” I can think of a whole list of drama actors who would be much better suited for that type of role. Not a behind-the-scenes kind of guy like me.
“You’re not listening. You’re the ideal guy. Especially for someone like me.” Her voice drops, softens with her last words.
Suddenly, the pieces start falling into place.
The celebrity gossip articles Grace likes to read about Seoul’s party crowd—the actors and actresses and chaebols that are always at the clubs, in front of the cameras, and all over the internet for the general public to talk about.
Chaeji, once known for her promising career as a young actress, has become more of a “she’s so beautiful, but…
” story in the last couple of years, thanks to a lot of wild nights and a parade of dating scandals.
“Image rehab.” It’s not a question.
“With someone that I choose,” Chaeji insists, as if trying to use me will be more palatable that way. “My company says…”
I hold up a hand, stopping her before she can finish that sentence. “You know I work for a company. Obviously I know how they are.” She nods. “Let me guess. Suitable boyfriend, more roles.”
“Specific roles.” There’s a hint of sadness in her expression. “I want people to take me seriously.”
It’s almost enough to make me feel bad for her, but not quite. “So you think I’m the right guy for this.”
“Yes. We look great together! But I also think we could really be compatible, if you’d give us a chance, you’d see.” She sounds hopeful, thinking perhaps if she is impassioned enough, she’ll convince me.
Like Yung-Sun. Maybe if he tempted me enough, I’d try.
The server comes back by to grab some of the plates, her eyes darting back and forth between the two of us. I know my face doesn’t give anything away, but Chaeji is doing her best lovesick gaze.
Just as the waitress starts to turn away, Chaeji sighs. “Just think how beautiful our children will be.”
My jaw drops as the girl gasps and all but sprints away, probably to call some trash publication with the best rumor they’ve heard in awhile. “Your timing is impeccable,” I observe, borderline impressed at the sheer audacity.
“I know.” She grins and whatever sincerity she possessed a few moments ago is gone.
That’s enough for me to know I can’t be here any longer. I’m not giving her any more of my time or attention.
“I really do wish you the best, Chaeji. I’m sure you have wonderful opportunities ahead of you.” I feel like I’ve said I don’t want her in as many polite ways as I possibly can. I don’t want to be rude or aggressive, so I’ll just keep repeating myself if I have to.
She stares at me, her eyes locked on mine. “And I believe all of those things include you.”
“I understand that, but I’m just not interested in being part of this story. You’ve already got plenty of people thinking there’s something going on here when there’s not, and I don’t want to be part of a… false narrative.” I cringe a little as I say it, because it just feels so ridiculous.