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“I’m going to pay you back.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t think about that now, aegiya.”
“Okay,” I say. I know in the back of my mind I’ll pay one way or the other. Or maybe I already did by falling for the unattainable mafia asshole with a kind heart. I sit up and clutch at my chest. Where the fuck did that come from? Can I really like him? He pretends he doesn’t care, but I know he does on some level. Maybe I’m a plaything for him for the time being, but there is also a part that cares, I think, I hope. Fuck, I don’t know. My mind and my heart are a mess.
“What else do you want to know? I might not answer, you can at least ask,” he says, studying me and frowning at the same time.
“How do you know I want to know more?” I ask, my voice small.
He pushes his finger against the tip of my nose. “Your nose scrunches up when you’re thinking about something you want to ask me.”
“It doesn’t,” I gasp, covering my nose with my hand.
He grins. “Yes, it does.” He chuckles. “So what do you want to know?”
“Where did you grow up?” I ask, going for something safe.
He laughs. “Down south of Seoul, until I moved to the city and met the guys.”
“Are you all friends?”
“Yes. And each has his own part of the company,” he tells me, looking into the distance.
“And you are part of something bigger?” I hint, following his gaze to the view outside.
“Let’s say we are the biggest off-the-books companies in Korea, with branches all around the country, even in Tokyo and Vegas.”
“That is scary and impressive at the same time,” I say, swallowing hard. That also means he can find me anywhere. Nowhere to run.
“It should be,” he says, all serious and proud. The man has an arrogant streak about him. And an anger underlying everything he does. And I like it when I know I shouldn’t.
“First, I started in this business when I was sixteen. The people around me didn’t believe I could accomplish anything in my life. And I wanted to prove them all wrong. I was angry back then.” He pauses, lies back, and stares at the ceiling.
“And now?” I ask, leaning my chin on my palm.
He laughs and shrugs. “I don’t know, kitten, you tell me.”
I study his face. The man looks the part, but there is also a kindness to him.
“So, what about you?”
“Me?” I croak.
“Yeah, I want to know more, so tell me,” he says, his dark, deep voice intoxicating as the paintings I aspire to make. The man is an enigma, one who doesn’t express his feelings. But Summer hasn’t told me he likes me, only he wants me, and those are two different things.
I swallow hard and turn on my back, studying the ceiling too. Trying not to think about the mess I got myself into again. It’s totally quiet here in this room, except for our breathing. I guess that’s what you get when you buy a multimillion-dollar home. Where I live there are always sounds. People fighting, the toilet upstairs flushing, people shouting at night, and birds chirping in the morning.
He pushes his finger under my chin and makes me face him. He cracks a smile, it’s a little lopsided, showing me he really doesn’t smile often. And lust so deep courses through my body. I shiver and he lets me go. Danger hangs around him, and he’s arrogant as hell, probably used to getting everything he wants once he pays for it. Including me, flashes through my mind.
“Tell me about your paintings, kitten,” he says, his voice soft while he runs his fingers over my arm.
“There isn’t a lot to tell. My grandfather taught me, and I went to school in Paris for a while.” His brows shoot up. “Don’t look so surprised,” I say, pushing my fist against his chest. He flinches, and I reach out and caress his side.
“I’m so sorry, I forgot.”
“I’m joking, kitten, continue with your story,” he says and winks, but the way he clutches his ribs again and grimaces tells me it still hurts.
“You are a real son of a bitch, you know?” His brows draw together, and his dark stare takes my breath away.
