Page 7 of Save Me

“Sir …” he greets.

I don’t hear the rest of the guard’s words because my gaze locks on Dae Kim.

He’s an up-and-coming business mogul with multiple nightclubs, lounges, and real estate ventures under his Lee Corporation. It was challenging to find out that information about the company.

The bodyguard exits, leaving me alone with Dae Kim.

He remains standing, his back to the closed door for a beat. I can’t see his eyes due to the angle of the lighting, but I feel as if he’s watching and assessing me.

He takes a step forward and another. Each movement unveils the handsomeness of his features.

The information I could find on him revealed that he’s South Korean. His square jaw, beautifully tanned skin, slanted, intense eyes, and jet-black hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck give him a slightly dangerous look.

Dae Kim is tall, around six feet two inches, and is dressed in a black suit vest, white button-down shirt, and pristinely tailored black pants.

As he gets closer, his eyes linger on me. It hits me then. Have I seen those eyes before?

Yes, here at the Black Opal, but I’ve seen that same intense glare elsewhere. That’s impossible. Aside from that one time, we’ve never met before.

Dae Kim has an unforgettable presence about him.

He comes to a complete stop about a foot in front of me, sliding his hands into his pockets.

Tension swirls around us, although neither of us has spoken one word.

I study his features.

“You’re a difficult man you get a hold of, Mr. Kim.” I speak first, more for my benefit than for his.

“Yet, here you are, Kennedy.”

The sharpest chill I’ve ever felt runs down my spine. I open and close my mouth, but the lump in my throat prevents words from coming out. I step back to put more space between us.

Clearing my throat, I meet his eyes once again.

A foolish move.

Looking him in the eye makes me feel unsteady.

I urge myself to pull it together. Dae Kim isn’t the first handsome man I’ve come across.

Dae isn’t just handsome, though. The man is a sculpture—a piece of artwork my cousin, Monique, might love to hang in her art gallery.

It’s the wild look in his eyes, however, that reveals his true essence. A combination of calm demeanor on the outside, yet a palpable danger that lingers just beneath the surface.

All of a sudden, I want to know his story.

What in his life created such a dichotomy?

It’s not strange for me to wonder what makes people tick. What is odd is that Dae Kim and I have yet to exchange more than two sentences, yet my head swirls with questions.

But I’m not here for Dae Kim. He possibly has information on the actual focus of my investigation.

“Thank you, Mr. Kim, for meeting with me,” I say.

“Is this a meeting?” he asks, lifting a dark eyebrow.

I flash him the widest smile I have. “You’re here. That’s enough.”

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