Taranis glares at me, his eyes flaring bright purple. If he’s drunk, I can’t tell. Despite his evident annoyance, mostly with me and only when no one is looking, he’s been a fantastic sport about all this, smiling and signing autographs without so much as a grimace. He’s even sampled everything I’ve offered him and participated in all the little games and activities.
“We should go through the Tunnel of Lights after this.”
“Sure. Whatever,” Taranis grunts, finally getting his lantern folded at the right seams. It still leans. “Ugfff,” he sighs dramatically.
“You’re such a drama queen.” He sneers but says nothing, and I can’t help but laugh. “Hey, did I thank you yet?”
He glances at me sharply. “Are you making fun of me?”
“No ...” I start, a little surprised. “I mean, I was making fun of you before, but now I’m just saying thanks. You’ve been ... really great here. Even if you are pretending about all of it.”
“I’m not pretending,” he hisses.
I scoff and say with soju-laced confidence, “You asked me earlier why I didn’t reply to your email with more enthusiasm?”
“Yes.”
“You said you were looking forward to tonight, but everything else about the way you present yourself to the world is a lie. Why would I believe you in an email?”
He makes a face, then settles it into something more neutral as another couple passes by to collect the materials needed to make lanterns of their own. I think I recognize the one man as a famous Korean actor, but I don’t get a good look as Taranis turns toward me and says, “I’m done with this.”
“Same. Let’s go put our lanterns on the lake.” I pick up my lantern and watch him pick up his. Because of the small size of the pond, all our lanterns are miniature, fitting neatly into the center of a palm. It makes his look extra tiny, and I smirk as I crouch down at the edge of the water. “Here. You’ll need this,” I tell him, handing him a little bamboo boat.
I set my boat in the water, set my electric candle in the center, and place my lantern over it. I push it out into the water.
I watch as he imitates my motions, looking strangely clumsy. It’s endearing in ways I wish it wasn’t. When he finally pushes his boat out into the water and stands, he offers me his hand. I take it and let him help me up. Heat radiates between our bodies as he looks down at me sternly and I look up at him, still feeling a little drunk. That must be why I’m suddenly not finding him so irritating.
He glances between my eyes, glaring. I smile. “Do I havetteokbokkisauce on my face?” I wipe my lips, knowing that I need to reapply my lipstick. I didn’t want to bring a purse, but the photographer in me couldn’t leave the house without my iPhone at least. Luckily, I brought a little extra makeup in my clutch too.
He doesn’t answer me, just continues to stare. He opens his mouth, but before he can speak, another voice cuts in: “Taranis, would you mind taking a picture?”
He’s stuck, staring at me another second before turning with a wide smile. It doesn’t match the downturn of his eyebrows at all. “Sure.”
They snap their shots and I grab Taranis’s hand. “Come on,” I tell him, “let’s go to the Tunnel of Lights. It’s meant to be very romantic, and if people think we’re having a moment, maybe they’ll leave you alone. We don’t have to stay much longer, I promise.”
I know it’s probably the alcohol and my overly relaxed state, but as I drag Taranis across the courtyard and watch him get attacked again and again by sycophants, the strangest feeling comes over me. I try to remember that he was perfectly happy to let me be eaten by rats, but as I pull him through the Tunnel of Lights and watch the red lights reflect over his skin as he stares up in what looks like consternation but that I’m beginning to understand is his version ofwonder, I start to feel ... sorry for him.
And that makes me worry. Because my heart is beating harder than it should be, and in this moment, it doesn’t seem to care whether he’s a villain.
Chapter Eleven
Taranis
Monika leaves me in the lantern-lit tunnel to go to the restroom. I stare at the lanterns—one of them, in particular. It’s got dragons on it, symbols for water, and Korean script, not that I can read it. I didn’t do much research before coming here, so I’m not really sure what all this means, but I noticed that Monika’s got similar designs on her dress. I couldn’t not notice. I seem to be hyperfocused on every fucking thing about her.
And she’s annoying the shit out of me.
First, she was defensive and defiant. Then she was drunk and soft. The whiplash was unexpected and makes me nervous about her wandering off alone, even if I can see the bathroom door from here.
Wait. What? She’s a human. I don’t care if she’s assaulted or murdered in the restroom, her blood leaking all over her beautiful dress and across the tiled floor. Fuck.
I take a step, force myself to remain calm, and then satisfy my next impulse to follow her when I remind myself that if she were murdered in the bathroom, it would reflect poorly on me for allowing it to happen. Yes, that’s right. I can’t let her be killed while she’s my date for the night.
Besides, what if there’s a woman in there she finds more attractive than me? Who am I kidding? Monika has seen beneath my shiningveneer, and she’s utterly unimpressed. I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much—so much that it’s giving me a headache. I’ve had turbulent relationships with all my staff before ...
I’m staring at the lantern, imagining I can see the little waves painted onto the paper surface roll, when it hits me. Usually, I can see the hatred in their eyes, the staff that finally understand who I am underneath. However, those staff all still need me. That fuels their hatred. The contracts I’ve bound them into, the rigid rules put in place to assure that they do what works best for me and nothing more, nothing less.
I’ve bound Monika up like a trussed-up cow—fuck, that’s a bad analogy, and has my mind moving to other places, other bindings ... Regardless, she doesn’t seem to be fazed. She still gives me shit. Still meets my gaze. Still does her work and performs with perfection, despite my restraints. She still seems ... calm. Like she and I are playing two different games, and for the first time in my life, she’s holding more cards.
