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“And that is why you aren’t married.” My mother sniffed. Dami Song was a woman used to getting her own way, and my defense was a token one. She’d wear me down. We both knew it.
Dami fixed me with her winning smile and tilted her head to the side in a patented move. “I already told the Kims you would go. It would be so embarrassing to cancel it now,” she said with a forlorn look.
My will to resist her and my patience with the conversation wore out at the same time. “Fine, tell my secretary,” I snapped and turned away so she wouldn’t see my expression. “Now, can I get back to work?”
“Of course, you can.” Dami’s voice was full of victory.
I felt her hand land on my shoulder. Her fingers were thin and bone-like, and she’d always favored huge, hulking rings that made her grip feel like a clawed bird when I was young. She’d had about the same amount of warmth for her young as that clawed bird might have had, pushing them out of the nest and forcing them to fly.
She left in a cloud of Chanel, and I was alone with my thoughts again. It was my preferred way. In my family, Suna was the burning ball of energy, Hana was the ray of sunshine, and I was the cold, reserved one. The oddball. I’d never fit anywhere, and I’d gotten used to that.
What wife wanted a cold, emotionally stunted husband? I didn’t know, but Dami seemed determined to push me onto someone. Of course, the mercenary, power-hungry women who wanted to be wife to the boss, even if he was a cold, violent man, didn’t tend to be the kind of women I could feel anything for. That didn’t mean I denied their appeal. My body had needs, but marriage was something else.
My phone vibrated on the desk. It was a private burner, and only a handful of people had the number, so I always answered.
“What’s happening?” I asked my second in command, Min.
“He’s secured a return trip for the girls. They’ll go to the same port they came from. He won’t do much more than that, but he’s not planning anything else as far as I can tell.”
“Good. I want you there, at the port. Make sure he isn’t planning to sell them on. I want them walking out of there under their own steam,” I told him. It wasn’t ideal. Those women had clearly been struggling in their lives to believe Seo Jun’s promises of a better, shiny future, but I couldn’t see each of them rehomed.
They weren’t cats. They were people. My mind immediately drifted to the woman who’d stared at me hard—the one with the pale jade eyes, glittering and utterly fearless at that moment. I couldn’t get those eyes out of my head.
“Will do,” Min said and hung up. One thing I always liked about Min? He kept it short and sweet.
I turned my attention to other things on my plate. Running one of the biggest criminal empires in New York and controlling the port activities kept me plenty busy. How Dami imagined I’d have time to take care of a wife and future children, I didn’t know. She didn’t think that far ahead. She wanted her eligible oldest son married and to bounce grandkids on her knee. Sunas’ kids weren’t enough, as she didn’t live with the rest of the Song family, and Hana was still young. Dami didn’t care much that the children wouldn’t see their father often. It had never bothered her when she’d been a young mafia wife. I’d barely known my father growing up. He’d taken an interest in me when I was old enough for him to teach me the business.
An intercom buzzed on my desk.
“Jae, just to let you know, I’ve made a reservation for tomorrow night at the East Point Club for your date,” my secretary said.
The fucking date. I pushed it forcefully out of my mind and let my thoughts wander back to the eyes of that nameless woman. She’d been so fierce, despite her circumstances. In that second, she’d been worth a million tepid fortune hunters who liked the East Point Club. But she didn’t belong here. She’d been stolen from her life, and now, I’d make sure she was returned to it.
* * *
I leftthe offices and headed to the warehouses to check in with some men who’d returned from a long-haul trip. The drugs we brought in through the port were some of the best industrious, far-flung locations had to offer. I paid handsomely for them and made a good profit. It was business, like any other.
Was I a terrible person? A blackhearted scrouge of society?
Maybe, but my world was a perfectly contained ecosystem, and that’s how I liked it. I didn’t force anyone to buy our wares and never hurt innocent bystanders when conducting business. Sure, I could make my millions legitimately and screw the masses with a government-approved method, but this was my birthright, and it was all I knew.
The offices in the warehouses by the docks had multiple uses. Separate from the dark underground storage rooms where Seo Jun had kept the women, there were offices, a few beds for men to bunk down in if they ended up working all night, and even a kitchen.
I walked inside, leaving my security outside the doors, and moved through the dimly lit halls. I hated the smell of the warehouses. Old water, rising damp and salty, male sweat. A soft tinkering sound to my right stilled me as I wandered through the halls, looking for the two men I’d come to talk to. There were a lot of noises in places like these, but few were so soft and delicate. I stood completely still and strained my ears, my hand reaching for my gun. In the near silence, there came the soft pit-pat of bare feet on the creaking, salt-soaked floors.
I advanced along the hallway, heading toward the makeshift kitchen. Inside was empty, but then I saw the shape of small, slightly sticky-looking footprints leading to the tiny pantry. It was only hip high, and I couldn’t imagine what size of person could crawl in there, but there was no mistaking where the prints led. I leveled my gun at it and stopped, pushing the door cautiously with my foot.
The little door swung into darkness and bumped against a body. A petite body pressed up against the shelves.
“Come out with your hands where I can see them.” My voice was glacial, a tone that few would fuck with.
The figure remained in the shadows a beat longer. I cocked my pistol, and the sound was like a whip cracking.The person moved, shuffling out, hands held aloft. It was the hands that gave her away first. Pale and dirty, with ragged fingernails and torn nail beds. The blood on them was so old, it was brown. Next came her narrow shoulders and dirty hair. Where it had once been blond, it was now a matted brown. She inched out. She didn’t hurry. Even in the face of such indignity, the strange woman was regal somehow.
“Let me see your face,” I commanded.
Her limp, dirty hair barely moved when she tilted her head back. Her eyes met mine and shocked me. A zip of electricity pinged through my body and down my legs, grounding in the earth.
A lightning strike. A once in a lifetime thing.
