Chapter 2 Elise
TWO
ELISE
“It’s not safe.”
I meet KD’s gaze in the mirror as I smirk and screw on the cap to my tube of lipstick. “Coming from the guy who thinks motorcycle helmets are optional and red lights are suggestions? I’d introduce you to my friend Self-Awareness, but I’m pretty sure she blocked you.”
KD lets out a low scoff under his breath like I’ve just disrespected his honor. He folds his thick arms over his broad chest and raises both brows as if he’s my father.
“I’m an excellent rider, EQ. Have you forgotten all the times you begged to ride on the back of my bike?”
“Begged or agreed with a resigned sigh after you asked fifty-eleven times?”
“Hey!” he says in offense, dropping his arms to his side. “Must you mock every moment we dated? Those were good memories! Besides, Cilla loves going for rides on my bike.”
I’ve moved on from my makeup to spritzing on perfume. The light notes of white amber and jasmine linger, just potent enough to be noticeable but delicate enough not to be overpowering.
“Priscilla is your girlfriend, KD,” I say with a smirk. “She loves riding something, but I hate to break it to you—it ain’t your bike.”
“I heard my name!” comes Priscilla’s squeak from the other side of the cramped apartment. “What was that about riding what now?”
“Nothing, baby! Just Eli being Eli,” KD shouts back.
I’ve slid into my sandals and snatched my wristlet off the bed, stepping toward the doorway that KD’s half blocking.
“You’re going to have to move out of the way, Black Onyx.”
“I’m not doing shit. Not ’til you at least agree to let me come with you.”
“This is a solo thing. You know that already. Now move or prepare to be flipped on your ass.”
A moody expression crosses his face like a young boy. Nevertheless, he steps aside and lets me slip by.
The apartment is only eight hundred square feet, with a small kitchen and a living room so compact we can barely fit a loveseat.
But it’s the place I’ve called home for the past four months, so I’ve got no regrets.
I found it when I moved to Seoul on assignment and came across an ad from a fellow American expat.
The description read in messy cursive:
small but clever layout. Just enough space to move without bumping elbows. Second highest floor in mid-rise building with lived-in charm. Beautiful sights and sounds of Itaewon. One shared bathroom but private balcony for each bedroom. Perfect for cats & plants!
It sounded so modest and wholesome even a hardass like me couldn’t resist.
When Priscilla Daniels opened the door and revealed she was a five-foot-three Black girl with afro puffs, a Sailor Moon tee, and glasses she was blind without, I knew I had found my spot.
She was bubbly and accommodating and a student studying medicine at SNU, which all seemed like things I could tolerate.
But I never expected my coworker and my roommate to… hook up like they have.
It’s made it so that whenever I’m at work, I’m dealing with KD, and whenever I escape to home, there he is, chilling on our couch with a bag of seaweed crisps.
It wouldn’t be so awkward if KD and I were just coworkers and not exes.
So I’ve quickly found myself in possibly the most awkward situation of my life.
All my own doing but all by accident.
KD, otherwise known as Kangdae Han, is Korean American and one of Vanguard’s best. The director sent us together for this job for a reason.
We were the ones that made the most sense.
We briefly dated a few years back before we realized we worked much better as friends.
Still a little weird to wander into the kitchen and hear sex noises coming from the other room, knowing Priscilla’s getting her back blown out by my ex.
As I emerge from my bedroom, she and KD meet halfway for a kiss. As if they haven’t just seen each other five minutes ago.
“What was that about?” she asks in her soft voice.
I grab my leather jacket from the hook on the wall and shrug it on. “Nothing. Just your boyfriend being a worrywart.”
“Isn’t he so cute?” Priscilla giggles, then stands on tiptoe to plant another kiss on his cheek.
I almost gag.
KD beams, damn near puffing his chest out. “Tell her, baby. Tell her she shouldn’t be going out alone.”
A bemused frown comes to Priscilla’s round face. “Is this more work stuff? It’s after ten.”
“Which means don’t wait up,” I say from over my shoulder. I wave my hand in the air as my final goodbye and then see myself out.
If I’d stayed any longer, KD probably would’ve insisted Priscilla throw on some clothes so they could come with.
But the truth is, I work better alone. I’m in my element when it’s just me, myself, and I, and I don’t have to worry about relying on anyone else.
In a matter of seconds, I’m on the ground floor. The elevator doors glide open, and I cross the lobby with a quick glance at my phone.
Twenty after ten.
Perfect.
I’ll get there right on time. Then tonight can really begin.
The pulse-pounding music fills the neon-lit club as I sit at the bar counter and sip on my drink—a black plum tonic without a drop of alcohol.
Unlike the writhing bodies on the dance floor, I can enjoy myself sober.
I need to be sober if I’m going to pull off what I have to do.
My hand drifts up to my throat, fingers tracing the metal ring that dangles from my chain like a pendant. The smooth band is made from tungsten with meteorite inlay and once belonged to my father.
Now I wear it around my neck as a reminder why I’m doing what I’m doing.
Dad never saw justice twenty years ago. But I’ll make sure to get vengeance on his behalf.
Only then will he be able to rest easy, and I’ll be able to finally move on from what’s become my life’s mission.
Soon, Daddy. Very, very soon.
I exhale a slow breath and sip on more of my black plum tonic.
It’s surreal being in the middle of a crowded club and being the only person on my own. Groups of friends rush up to the bar counter to place their drink orders, flush-faced and breathless from excitement. Strangers grind together on the dance floor, the seductive beat putting them under a trance.
My gaze combs the crowds and spots locals and tourists alike downing shots and cheering to the weekend.
Every so often a guy wanders up to flirt, then gets the hint I’m not interested when I barely give him a second glance.
They probably assume I’m some lonely woman coming out to meet people and make friends. I don’t give a damn either way.
It’s none of my business what other people think of me. It’s their right to judge me, just like it’s my right to ignore them and remain unbothered.
Also a reason why I’m not most people’s favorite person—an aloof, unapologetic woman who does what she wants and doesn’t seek approval naturally ruffles some feathers.
I’m casual studying the other patrons in the purple-tinted club, making mental notes of who comes and goes, subtly watching the entrance.
Two men walk in shoulder to shoulder and pause to do the same.
They stand back and take inventory of the club, likely scoping the place out for attractive women.
I take a gentle sip from the plum tonic and use the straw to mix the fruity chunks in the glass. My expression is neutral, my posture relaxed. I’m demure and mysterious, the only woman seated alone at the bar counter.
But I don’t let them know I saw them first—I let my gaze wander some more like I don’t feel their heavy stares.
The one on the left elbows the other, his lips moving. It’s dim in the club, and the neon-purple haze damn sure doesn’t help, but I can read his lips anyway.
She must be new to the area. She’s a tourist.
More like… she’s dangerous.
The corner of my lip quirks. I take another sip from my plum tonic, deciding at that moment to go ahead and throw them a curveball.
My gaze travels over to his, finally looking right at him.
Most people find prolonged eye contact uncomfortable, especially if it’s with a stranger. But I’m not most people. I openly stare at him the way he’s so brazenly watched me, though his instincts are spot on.
I am dangerous.
My lashes flutter, and the come-hither smirk on my face renders them both speechless. I count the seconds in my head, casually placing my lips on the straw and taking a tiny sip.
Then I look away. I tear my gaze from his and pretend I’ve moved onto other things.
Other people.
Other men.
It takes exactly sixteen seconds for my magic to work. Seventeen seconds later, I see one of them out the corner of my eye.
He’s weaving his way through the crowded club, forging a path to me.
I wait until he’s about five feet away before chancing another glance.
The friend has come over. He swaggers toward me with a broad grin on his face and the kind of brash confidence you’d have if you owned the whole club.
It’s no surprise—you’d have to be confident and a little delusional to wear a lime-green windbreaker and army cargo pants with high-top sneakers and a cross dangling from your left ear.
Not who I hoped for, but I keep my cool anyway, innocently sipping from my tonic.
“Hey cutie,” he calls out in place of hello. He sidles up with his elbow propped on the bar counter. “Name’s Joon. I feel like we’re vibing already and you haven’t even let me buy you a drink yet.”
My smirk spreads, brows lifting. “That’s pretty presumptuous of you, isn’t it?”
“Look, I’m just saying… your chakras? Definitely calling mine. It’s not presumptuous if the universe already shipped us. I’m just playing my role.”
“Chakras?” I release a small laugh. “That’s a new one. A lot more creative than what’s your sign.”
“You ever hear of twin flames? ’Cuz I’m ninety-eight percent sure that’s me and you.”
“You’re very cute—and amusing—but I’m going to have to pass. I don’t think our chakras are as aligned as you think.”
Joon slides both hands through his shag of a hairstyle, then nods in defeat. “Okay, but tell me the truth: should I keep this outfit or return it to the mannequin?”
“Honestly? I’d try to get my won back.”
“Ouch!” he calls out, cringing at my polite but blunt delivery. “But I’ve got to respect a lady’s opinion. The most beautiful woman here tonight, no less—”
A hand clamps down on his shoulder from behind and cuts him off midsentence. Joon’s caught off guard for half a second as he glances over at the culprit.
I’m less surprised because I anticipated he’d walk over if Joon spoke to me long enough.
The man is handsome, with dark, almond-shaped eyes that twinkle on their own as if he’s permanently amused by a joke only he knows.
The purple lighting reflects on the shiny, smooth texture of his jet-black hair. He’s combed it in a style that’s both polished and disheveled all at once—sleek and short with an undercut and textured fringe, it fits the rest of his face.
Features that are distinguished and angular but still broad and large enough to be masculine. He’s sporting a five o’clock shadow as he interrupts his friend with a hand on his shoulder and a crooked, cocky grin slants across his mouth.
My heart gives an extra beat, my pulse racing just a little bit faster now.
“Joon,” he says. “Why don’t you leave the beautiful lady to her drink? I’m not sure she wants to be bothered.”
Joon gives off a loud laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “You’re right. I think my chakras talk put her off. But you know where to find me, cutie.”
He winks and points at me with a finger gun before he’s finally choosing to abort mission and walk away.
It only takes five seconds before he’s approaching another woman. This one a redhead out with a group of her girlfriends.
But his friend remains. He turns his attention back to me, his grin shrinking to nothing.
“Your first time here?” he asks.
“How did you know?”
“I know everything that happens in this club,” he says plainly. “And in Seoul. Which makes me wonder how you thought you’d get by.”
I blink twice, fighting hard to keep cool. I pop an innocent smile. “Get by with what?”
“Get by without telling me who you really are. Did you really think I wouldn’t know?”
…fuck.