I just nod because I have no idea what Dior’s new collection looks like. Yuna should talk to Jo if she wants to discuss that sort of thing.
“Anyway, I know it’s really sudden, and it’s a huge imposition. But I’m a great roommate,” Yuna says. “I’m neat, and I can give you free piano lessons. Or I can play. I’ll buy you a piano if you want.”
Ugh, no. Most people who claim they can play are so awful that their “music” feels more like screws being drilled into your ears. Maybe Yuna has an inflated sense of how good she is. She’s undoubtedly surrounded by sycophants.
Yuna laughs. “I can see what
you’re thinking. But I’m actually really good. I went to Curtis. You’ve heard of it, right? They offer you a full scholarship if you’re accepted. Only the best of the best go. And I love dogs, so I can help you take care of this big guy. If you like parties, it’s even better, because I throw the best parties. And I’ll lend you my clothes. But not my shoes. I think sharing shoes is gross, don’t you? Feet just aren’t very hygienic in general. So what do you say?” She looks at me, her eyes bright. “I’ll pay half the rent and utilities, obviously.”
“Um… Look, I don’t know. This is really sudden.” Should I say yes? What if I get tangled up in some crappy family drama and get screwed in the process? But I don’t want to upset Yuna, either. I need to find a delicate way to turn her down.
“It’s just… I just don’t want to get more dossiers to review,” Yuna says with a forlorn sigh, the corners of her mouth drooping.
“Dossiers?” This really is starting to sound like a spy novel. Or maybe she’s just got the wrong word…
She opens an outer pocket on one of her suitcases and pulls out a thick manila envelope. “Have a look.”
I take it and pull out the papers inside. The first page has a picture of an impeccably groomed Asian man. There’s a chart, which I assume it has stuff like his name and so on. I flip to the next page and stare at an enormous, detailed stock portfolio—ticker symbols, share price when acquired, share price at the moment, the number of shares and so on. “Wow. This is…thorough.” It really is a dossier.
Yuna takes the document and starts flipping through pages. “Medical history. Family tree. High school and college transcripts. And so on and so on, blah blah blah. It’s in Korean, but trust me. It’s all here.”
“Who is this man?” I ask, wondering why she has such private information about anyone.
“One of the guys my mother wants me to consider marrying. He’s the oldest son in a cosmetics empire in Korea. It’d be a great merger, because Hae Min always wanted to go into cosmetics, but it’s highly competitive, you know?”
Merger. Oh, man. I start to feel terrible for her. I thought only somebody like my mother would tell their children to marry rich. I always assumed rich parents didn’t bother their kids with stuff like that. Why should a rich woman have to marry for anything but love? But…apparently not.
Yuna’s case actually seems worse because she doesn’t need a man’s money or position. And unlike my mother, her mom is sending dossiers—it really is the only word—to review.
If Yuna just needs a break from having to deal with her matchmaking mom, I guess there’s no harm in that. And maybe it’ll force her mom to lay off a bit, especially since Yuna is obviously not interested in marrying any of the dossier men.
“Okay,” I say. “You can stay here for a while.”
She brightens. “Really? Thank you! You won’t regret it! I’ll be the best roommate you’ve ever had!”
Her enthusiasm makes me smile. For somebody with enough power and wealth to make some of the heiresses I set Wyatt up with look homeless, she’s awfully easy to please. And I’m not sensing any entitled brat attitude. I just hope I’m not making a mistake by taking her in.
Chapter Thirty
Wyatt
Potential roommate.
I keep thinking about that guy. He’s the right age. Seemed confident. Well dressed. And as much as I hate to admit it, he isn’t that bad looking. Okay, fine, he’s pretty. I can see a woman going for that.
Is he Kim’s type?
The moment the question pops into my head, I force it out. Who the hell cares? More importantly, why should I care?
He said potential roommate. He didn’t say he was the roommate. Kim will probably say no. Most women don’t want to share a space with some guy.
Unless they’re involved…
My phone pings with a text.
–Kim: For the wedding, we’re going to keep our story simple. You and I met when you moved in next door. We started chatting and got close. We decided to date. And that’s why we’re going to the wedding together. If anybody asks, I’m fond of Vi.
Not what I thought she’d say after our…unpleasant encounter this evening. Can she actually fake it?