Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
“Nuna Bea!” Han came barreling across the room in a dress shirt one size too big, the hem flapping above his knees. “I did my own tie!”
“It’s the fanciest I’ve ever seen,” Bea praised, crouching to inspect the blue satin clip-on her cousin had jammed under his collar with six-year-old confidence.
“I look like I’m the boss,” he declared. “I’ve been practicing walking in a straight line, too.”
“With the tie and the walk, you might be the best of all our page boys,” she whispered.
He puffed up proudly, then took off again at full speed to impress his next audience.
The hotel bar was low-lit, gold-glassed, just the right side of swanky.
They’d corded off the back half and ordered catering so her arriving family and friends had a place to mingle before settling in for the night.
Bea had been warned the hotel security team had tightened the guest list twice that afternoon.
Apparently a “travel blogger” and someone claiming to be a florist had both tried to wander into the welcome event.
The hotel manager had assured her it was handled.
Still, she’d noticed the extra staff at the entrance.
“Bea!” Maya said, sweeping her into a hug. Her friend from the University of Toronto pulled back and eyed Bea’s high-necked, scarlet-lace mini dress. “You look unreal.”
“Thank you.” Bea smiled. Red always made her feel confident. “I’m so glad you guys could come.”
“Of course. We would’ve come even without the free flights,” Logan said, holding onto Maya’s hand. “Business was something else.”
Claire had her arms around Felicity and Hannah, whose lockers had been beside theirs, and who had therefore been roped into the majority of their high-school adventures.
“Your fiancé is generous.” Felicity gestured around at the opulent setup.
“And he keeps checking you out,” Hannah added, eyes bright.
“And he’s not even trying to be subtle about it,” Claire cackled.
Bea laughed and searched for Rafael. Found him with her uncles at the bar, swapping stories.
He wore a white shirt that hinted at every good thing underneath, elbows braced casually on the counter, completely at ease with a beer in his hand.
A faint flush touched his cheekbones, and dark stubble shadowed his jaw, rough enough to catch the light.
In less than two days, she’d be his wife. The thought landed low in her body. She wanted it sealed. Locked in. It surprised her how fiercely, and yet it didn’t, considering she was painfully, distractingly deprived of him. They’d been counting weeks. Now it was hours.
His green eyes lifted. Found her instantly, as if he’d been aware of her across the room the entire time.
He excused himself with a hand to her uncles’ shoulders, and then he was moving toward her with that quiet, stalking confidence that made her pulse spike.
Rafael didn’t drift through rooms. He hunted what he wanted.
“I’ll be back in a sec, guys,” Bea said, like she’d been summoned. There were men who were attractive. And then there were men who lit up your amygdala in ways that made you forget your feminism. Her man was the latter.
Claire clocked the reason for her haste. “Beya Slaya. You’re marrying him in less than forty-eight hours. Play it cool.”
Bea ignored her.
They were, regrettably, intercepted.
Elias tapped Rafael’s upper arm. “Dae jang nim, any chance you need more groomsmen? Because I clean up extremely well.”
Bea’s jaw actually dropped. Dae jang nim. The Boss? Nico and his cohort who had recently left for military service used to call him El Jefe. Now her cousin had bestowed the same nickname in Korean. The man radiated international kingpin.
“You still owe me twelve dollars from poker at Christmas,” Rafael reminded without missing a beat. “I don’t elevate debtors.”
Bea snorted a laugh.
“I was going to pay you back, but then I remembered you ate the last polvorones after I called dibs.”
“You called dibs on everything,” Rafael said dryly. “Someone needed to end your dessert dictatorship.”
Lavender tulle exploded into Bea’s peripheral vision.
“Nuna Bea!” The twins bounced in unison, glitter barrettes flashing. “We love our dresses. They sparkle!”
“And we’re going to drop flowers gently,” one said.
“And not fight,” the other added, head swinging.
“Show me,” Bea said with a smile.
They demonstrated with imaginary petals and enormous seriousness.
Meanwhile, Joon slid in beside Elias. “Dae jang nim,” he said loudly, “what’s your net worth? Just ballpark.”
Bea’s head snapped up. “Joon.”
Two months ago no one had seemed particularly interested in Rafael’s exact net worth.
Now entire comment sections were devoted to it, specifically its impact on their wedding.
Bea had made the mistake of reading an article that morning that confidently explained the ceremony would take place on a private island that had been “towed” into position, followed by a reception in an underwater ballroom Griffin Ventures had apparently constructed.
“It’s for my financial literacy, Nuna,” he said, unfazed. “I need to know what’s possible.”
Umma appeared at Bea’s side, orange juice in hand. “Where’s Halmoni?”
A cold jolt of agitation went through her. She’d been in the UR for ninety minutes and her grandmother was lost already? She scanned the room. Halmoni was four foot eleven on a good day, and prone to wandering.
After tense seconds that felt like hours, Bea saw Halmoni emerge from the kitchen corridor.
She had no idea why, unless there was a Korean serving person she’d terrorized back there.
Her grandmother swept back into the party like a tiny empress, navy hanbok glinting with gold embroidery, hair pinned severely.
The crowd parted as she headed straight for Rafael.
“Go,” Umma urged. “He’ll need translation.”
“Come with me,” Bea said under her breath, taking her wrist.
Umma shook her head. “It will be worse for him if she thinks I like him.”
Bea hurried. Her two cousins had frozen and then fled when they heard the rhythmic tapping of Halmoni’s cane. Rafael had already set his glass onto a passing tray. He stood still, waiting.
“Do not break eye contact,” Bea whispered as she reached him. His arm immediately pulled her into him by the waist. “She senses weakness.”
Halmoni stopped two feet in front of him and thumped her cane. She scanned him head to toe, twice. The fingers that had been stroking idly at her hip ceased.
There was a moment of loaded silence between them. Then—rapid-fire Korean.
“I’m sorry, I don’t—” Rafael began.
Halmoni talked over him. She pointed at his shoes. His chest. Back at his face. Another stream of Korean, sterner this time.
“She says if you sleep on your stomach, you’re shortening your life expectancy and you shouldn’t put me at risk of early widowhood,” Bea translated quietly. “And she says you shouldn’t undo so many buttons because it makes you look like a playboy.”
Halmoni narrowed her eyes.
Rafael, to his credit, simply nodded, once, with great respect. “Thank you for the feedback.”
Bea translated him in broken Hangul. Halmoni launched into another round.
“She says you seem strong, but since you’re young, you may not be wise.”
“I’m working on it,” Rafael said.
Bea translated again, lips twitching. “‘Men always are. Don’t learn too slowly, you’re responsible for my granddaughter now.’”
Halmoni huffed, apparently done, then turned toward the dessert table, already scanning for infractions. The twins squealed, grabbing a macaron in each hand and fleeing.
“She likes you,” Bea said, breaking out into a wide grin, tapping his arm.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. And then he kissed her temple, lips lingering longer than required, as though he were reminding himself to behave.
“That was her liking me?”
“She didn’t whack you with her cane,” Umma said, appearing at Bea’s side. “That’s approval.”
Papa joined them, clapping Rafael on the back. “If you can handle Halmoni, you’ll survive this family. Except your Auntie Linda’s dance moves after one cocktail.”
Auntie Linda shouted, “I heard that!”
Her parents turned to exchange quips with her auntie.
Bea clung to the normalcy of her family’s repartee.
Not long now before the wedding would be over.
Then the world would move on to something else and they could go back to being just Rafael and Bea, not The Billionaire Builder and The Scholarship Cinderella.
“I’ll be right back,” she murmured to Rafael. “Just going to the ladies’.”
She slipped away, out of their private area, smoothing her hands down her dress as she walked. The restroom off the function space was too close, too easy to get pulled back into conversation. She kept going toward reception instead, mind already running through the welcome toast she’d prepared.
And then she saw him. Oliver Fox stood near the elevator bank, speaking quietly to a man tapping onto his phone. Mid-fifties, blond hair cut close at the sides with silver threaded through it, a little broader at the waist than his earlier years, still undeniably handsome.
Oliver glanced up. His gaze caught on her for a second longer than a stranger’s would, his head tipping slightly, as if he were placing her.
Bea surprised herself by walking over. Up close, the skin at his temples and jaw was a fraction too taut. “Oliver Fox.”
“Beatriz Cruz.”
“You recognize me,” she said, suddenly self-conscious.
“Of course.” His tone was a little amused, since he was literally in the business of knowing things like this. “There aren’t many photos of you online, but that will probably change soon.”
Bea prayed he was exaggerating. She wrinkled her nose. “I hope not.” He still had his suitcase beside him. “Have you just arrived in the UR?”
“Yes. I’m only here for a week.” He grinned. “They let Canadians like us in now and then.”
She laughed, and it eased some of the tension in her body.
“This is my assistant, Blake,” he introduced.
Bea inclined her head politely. Blake returned the gesture. “I hope you have a wonderful time,” she said.
“I’m sure we will. You know, the UR fascinates us Canadians.” Oliver shrugged. “Honestly it fascinates everyone.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Bea gestured around. “Researching for your show?”
“You’ve watched my show?”
“I used to. A lot. I’m a fan. You were one of our favorite ways to procrastinate during exam season.”
“I’m flattered. Yes, I’m doing some research.
This place is still a bit of a mystery to the outside world.
You really have to be here to understand it.
” He waved some tourist booklets picked up from reception.
“But I’m also just traveling. Northgate is extraordinary.
It invites you into their culture the way few cities do anymore. ”
It was so akin to something Rafael had once said to Claire and Marco that she smiled. “You should visit St. Ives town if you have time, too. It’s more historical.”
“I will.” His gaze flicked briefly to her dress. “You must be mid-wedding obligations.”
“Oh, yes. Hosting guests.”
“Hopefully invited ones.” He chuckled. “The world seems very interested in you.”
Bea made a face. “That wasn’t part of the plan.”
“It can’t be helped. Everyone loves a fairy tale,” he replied easily, tapping the brochures against his palm.
“That’s true,” she admitted. “My umma and I woke at dawn for the royal weddings.”
“Exactly.” He gave her elbow a tap. “Well, Bea, I won’t keep you. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
Her phone buzzed in her hand. Bea glanced down. A message from a famous women’s magazine asking if she’d comment on an article they were running, titled: “From Ramen to Riches: The Billionaire Bea Cruz Finally Married.”
The wedding hadn’t even happened yet.