Page 8 of When Worlds Collide
“I see. Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you later?” I moved to turn around to pick up my bags, but so swiftly I didn’t even see the movement, Jihoon’s hand reached out of the car and snatched my hand.
“I’m sorry, jagiya, I’m being an ass, aren’t I?"
“You’re allowed to not be perfect all the time.”
He huffed, but the twist of his lips took any humour out of the gesture.
“Am I?”
Before I could respond, he’d raised my hand to his mouth for a quick kiss to my palm, before he released me.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Dumbly, I shoved my hands into my pockets and nodded, watching as the car door was closed, and the driver returned to his seat in the front. I watched until the SUV had turned onto the main street and I couldn’t make it out anymore, amongst the stream of other traffic.
A twinge of pain alerted me to the fact I had bitten my lip, and I tried to relax my mouth. Why had I thought that coming here would erase the mess I’d left behind in LA?
TK – because I knew, deep down he was somehow to blame – had already cost me my job, why couldn’t that be the end of it?
Why did this have to drag on?
An uneasy feeling churned in my gut when I considered the potential repercussions. Sure, there was an NDA protecting Jihoon, but what was protecting me?
Chapter 4
Opting to choose my battles for when I was better equipped to fight them, I turned around, looking up at the enormous building. I could barely see the top of it from this angle, but I could just about make out the words – Grand Hyatt – from where they sat on the highest floor like a crown. I let out a low whistle. I was so not dressed for anything with the word ‘Grand’ in it.
Not for the first time since LAX, I felt decidedly out of place.
Pushing down my discomfort, I lifted my bags and made my way towards the front doors. The doorman stationed there gave me a polite tip to his cap and opened the door for me.
“Gamsahmnida.” I muttered, self-consciously, but intentionally. Practice makes perfect, right?
The lobby was bright, but welcoming and checking in was relatively painless, once we’d established I could manage ‘hello’, and ‘my name is’, but that was about the extent of my proficiency, unless the conversation called for me to name various items of clothing or fruit.
Thankfully, the receptionist’s command of the English language was far superior to my Korean, and I was soon being shown up to my room by a friendly young porter.
It was with some relief that we eventually approached a door at the end of a long corridor. I was beginning to feel in earnest the effects of a day of travel, to say nothing of the mental gymnastics it had taken to get to this point.
So, when I followed the porter into the room and then immediately froze, I feel I could have been forgiven.
I hadn’t really been paying attention in the elevator, but looking out of the floor-to-ceiling windows, it was clear we had gone most of the way up the tall building, because spread out in spectacular panoramic view was a vista that was as breathtaking as it was wholly unfamiliar.
I didn’t even realise I’d moved across the room until my hand was tentatively reaching out to touch the glass, so cool under my hand. Discretely, I heard the door close behind me and spinning back around, I discovered I was alone. Turning back to the expansive view, I tried to make sense of it with my rudimentary knowledge of Seoul. Laid out beneath me, like a model city, were clusters of more built-up areas, with some high-rises, but the bulk of the city seemed to be further away and on the other side of a wide river – the Han River, presumably. Beyond even that though, was a range of mountains I had no name for. They must be of some significance though, they spanned so much of the view.
Being from Cumbria, in the north of England, I was no stranger to mountains, but these made the ones back home seem more like bumps in the road. For all the rugged beauty of the Lake District, these were like imposing sentinels overlooking the vibrant city. Such a strange juxtaposition of land and construction.
I made a mental note to ask Jihoon what they were called, whenever he came back.
Turning away from the window, I took my first real look around the hotel room. It reminded me of the hotel where I’d had breakfast with Jihoon in LA, all those months ago. The morning of our first date.
The room I was in now was a living room, with a full sofa suite facing a massive flat-screen TV mounted on the wall to my right. Directly ahead was the front door, set in a wide hallway lined with cupboards. To my left, behind the sofa, sat a dining table set for four. Floor-to-ceiling windows ran the entire length of the room.
Opposite the windows, a mirrored wall reflected the sofa and the view behind me. Across from the dining table, a sleek kitchen-style counter and bar featured a sink, a Nespresso machine, and shelves stocked with cups and mugs.
I wandered over, grabbed a glass from the shelf, and filled it with cool, clear water, only then realizing how dry my throat was.
Feeling more refreshed, I poked around in the cabinets under the counter and found the mini fridge – fully stocked with everything someone staying in a suite like this might need for a weekend – water bottles, fizzy drinks, snacks, fruit, even a couple bottles of wine.
