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“I want to go to a nightclub.”
“You set up a meeting at a nightclub? Why would you do that? Don’t those sleazeball businessmen usually take other men to those places to have ‘hostesses’ sidle up to them and pour their drinks? Ew.”
“I never said I had a meeting. I want you to go clubbing with me,” Jihae said rather clumsily. She’d never uttered the words go clubbing before. “Not to a Koreanized club. That’ll be too risky. More people are likely to recognize me there. I want to go to a hot, American nightclub.”
“You—you want to go to an American nightclub? A ‘hot’ one?” It took June a couple seconds to close her gaping mouth. “Who are you, charlatan, and what have you done with my bestie?”
“Oh, shut up.” Jihae blushed, regretting her impulsive request. This was so unlike her. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. You can’t back out now.” June rushed to her and wrapped her in her arms. “I can’t believe you waited until you’re close to thirty to rebel against your father a little.”
“Hey, I’m only twenty-seven. Besides, I’m not rebelling...” Wasn’t she? Was she captivated by a newfound hunger for adventure, or was she lashing out against the punishing rigidity of the life that her father forced on her? No. She had found peace with her life, and she counted herself lucky to have a job she loved. “Really, I’m not. I think I’m bored of working nonstop. Of work being the only thing in my life.”
“You’re finally talking sense. Work should never be your everything. You need to let your hair down and get a bit sloppy once in a while. Where is the fun in being so flawless all the time?” Her friend stood back and studied Jihae from head to toe. “I know the perfect place for tonight. All the staff went clubbing a couple weeks ago—it was your treat, of course—and we had such a great time. I think you’ll love it, too. Alas, I can’t let you just walk into a club looking like Princess Jihae.”
“But all my clothes look like these. Or there are the floor-length dresses. I don’t want to draw attention to myself, especially not as a weirdo wearing a white ball gown to a nightclub. My other alternatives are purple, pink or baby blue sweat suits. Even I know that I won’t get past the bouncers in those.”
“Are you forgetting how filthy rich you are? Your stylist isn’t here, but you don’t need her. Instead, you’ll have your best friend pick you the hottest, tiniest dress you’ve ever worn. Rodeo Drive is only twenty minutes away.”
They rushed to the parking structure and hopped into Jihae’s flashy sports car. As soon as her seat belt was secured, June scrolled through her phone until “Oh, Pretty Woman” blared from the speakers.
“You’re like Julia Roberts except you don’t need a man to pay for your clothes,” June shouted over the music.
“Girl power. Woo-hoo,” Jihae hooted, and sped toward Rodeo Drive. Everything around her looked sharper and even the air tasted fresher. It was the taste of freedom.
As the theme song of Pretty Woman played in a loop in Jihae’s head, she tried on every outrageously seductive dress that June piled onto the salesperson’s loaded arms. She felt like she was living a different person’s life, and it felt wonderful. But distress niggled at the back of her mind. If she loved someone else’s life so much, what did that say about her own?
June wouldn’t let Jihae look in a mirror until she’d poked and prodded her for an hour. Thank goodness she was used to being poked and prodded for hours by her stylist. Otherwise, she might’ve shoved her friend to the ground and run to the streets screaming for help. She couldn’t breathe properly in the shimmery silver mini dress they’d chosen, and her butt cheeks were asleep from sitting in the same position for too long.
“There. Go ‘mmm,’” June said, smacking her lips together. Jihae did as she was told, hoping that was the last of it. “You’re all done, and you’re welcome.”
“Thank God. I can’t feel my bum.” Jihae stood from her seat and opened her friend’s closet door for the full-length mirror. Her reflection made her breath catch. “I look smoking hot. I’m so glad you sat in on so many of my styling sessions. I think you’re even better than my stylists.”
June laughed as Jihae twisted this way and that to see all of herself. Her simple, spaghetti-strap dress clung to her curves like magic water, transforming her rather narrow, slender body into a delectable, curvaceous one. Her dramatic cat’s-eye makeup and bloodred lipstick made her look bold and mysterious. But her favorite thing about herself right now was the long, jet-black waves that flowed down her back and shoulders. This—this was no princess. No, the woman staring back at her was the mistress of her own life. She did as she wanted and no one could stop her.
“I’ll get ready fast, then we’ll go clubbing,” June said, ducking into her bathroom.
Jihae nodded distractedly and turned her gaze back to herself. She felt as though she had shed a layer of her skin and revealed a hidden side of her. Perhaps her true self. The one that matched her red, patent-leather stilettos—the only thing on her that she’d already owned before tonight. But Jihae knew who she was. Whenever she was alone, she could be as sloppy and goofy as she wanted. But a sudden rush of melancholy hit her. Maybe the real her wasn’t a silly side character in her persona, but a powerful, vibrant woman that shouldn’t be hidden.
Enough feeling sorry for yourself. This version of her might have some aspects of her true self, but she had to acknowledge that Princess Jihae also held parts of her. Her drive to succeed and her search for perfection had never been feigned.
Her friend stepped out of the bathroom looking beyond gorgeous in her black sleeveless dress. “Let’s go party, babe.”
With a resolute nod, Jihae straightened her spine and let a wicked smile spread across her face. “I’m ready.”
Colin buried his head in work all day, but it didn’t do much to distract him from thoughts of Jihae. Immobilized by his conflicting dread and excitement about the partnership with Rotelle Entertainment, he barely finished half of the tasks he’d set out to get done.
He pulled his hand down his face then eyed his leftover dinner with a grimace. The turkey club and fries had long gone soggy, which was just as well since he didn’t have much of an appetite. He couldn’t figure out why he was so twisted up.
His door cracked open and Kimberly peeked into the office. “Staying much longer?”
“No, I’ll probably follow you out in a few,” he said, rubbing his temples. “You’re here late.”
“I was finishing up my research and presentation for tomorrow.”
“I’m looking forward to it. Selecting the right director is an essential part of our project.”
“Would it be unprofessional to say ‘Duh’?” She smiled cheekily at him. “Of course it is, and I’m excited to share my thoughts with you. So go rest up. I want you sharp tomorrow.”
