Page 2 of Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

This whole thing was never about love and marriage.

It was about profit and loss.

If I said no, my father would be furious, and my mother would say that I couldn’t afford to be choosy, because apparently at twenty-eight, my childbearing ability was rapidly deteriorating. More importantly, our collective business ventures would go up in flames, because the rejection would be an enormous scandal. I could already picture the number-one trending YouTube video of the month:Marriage Proposal Gone Wrong! Daughter of prominent businessman rejects the country’s Most Eligible Bachelor!

No.Pigs, turtles, and rabbits would fly, and hell would freeze a thousand times over before that happened. Maybe I should accept now, sparing our families the painful embarrassment, then quietly break the engagement after a few days. Just be kind, respectful, and honest, and everyone would understand.

Yes.Brilliant plan.

Then I opened my mouth, and my brain must have buckled under the pressure, because what came out was, “Nope, but thank you for asking.”

George turned beet red, while gasps from shocked guests echoed around the ballroom, the loudest (and angriest) coming from my parents. I took a few steps back, ready to flee, when my heels knocked over the wineglasses.

Yep, the ones with the lit tealight candles merrily floating inside.

Horrified, I watched helplessly as the glasses tumbled over each other and crashed like dominoes and nightmares, setting the roses ablaze. The shocked gasps escalated to panicked shrieks, and right there and then, I knew one thing was certain.

My life, as I knew it, would never be the same.

Two days later, there was a knock on my apartment door. I ignored it, willing whoever it was to supernaturally receive my message and go away. My abysmal attempt at telepathy failed, because the knock got louder, followed by my brother’s voice. “Ellie, I know you’re home.”

Sighing, I got up and peered through the security peephole before unlocking the door to let him in. “What do you want?”

Instead of my brother, another figure launched herself at me. My best friend, Naomi Park, squeezed me in a tight hug, doing her utmost to cut off the oxygen supply to my lungs. “Oh, thank God you’re alive!”

Naomi and I had met on the first day of kindergarten, when we reached for the same wooden block at the same time, both refusing to let go. The wooden block was quickly forgotten when we saw we both had the same cute mermaid T-shirt on, and it wasn’t long until we were laughing in the sandpit, building the greatest sandcastle ever known to five-year-olds. The sandcastle led to a playdate the weekend after, and we’d been inseparable ever since. We’d gone to the same schools, spent almost 24/7 together when we were teenagers, and had done the same finance degreein college. When she started dating my brother last year, both our families were thrilled.

Well, hers was—mine was slightly disappointed that the Parks “only” owned two very successful restaurants in Koreatown.

“Keep this up and I won’t be.” I pried open her suffocating embrace and nodded at my brother, who stood behind her. “Just the two of you? No cavalry?”

Although two years older than me, Eric was often mistaken for my younger sibling. We had the same chocolate-brown eyes and jet-black hair, only his was cut short, while mine was shoulder-length and slightly curly at the ends. He was the Golden Child: the chosen heir to the Pang Food Industries empire, the reliable one who put out fires and emergencies whenever and wherever needed.

Which was, apparently, right here, right now.

Eric closed the door behind him, a small frown on his face. “Just us. You’ve been ignoring our calls. We wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“As you can see, I am.” I collapsed on the sofa and picked up the remote. “Thanks for stopping by. Can you lock the door on your way out?”

“Ooh, you made brownies!” Naomi plopped down next to me and grabbed a piece from the plate on the coffee table. She bit into it, her eyes closed in bliss. “Mmmh. Seriously, El. Working in corporate finance is a waste of your true calling. Not to mention those pastry classes that you’ve been taking.”

“Not working in corporate finance is a waste of my expensive college education.”

“And we all know that’s a cardinal sin.” Eric’s eyes swept my living room, his frown deepening when he saw the pizza box. “Pizzaandbrownies? Really?”

“Really.” I flicked through my Netflix queue. “I’m starting a rom-com movie marathon, and pizza and brownies make it perfect. FYI, the brownies are carb-free, so they don’t count.”

Eric folded his arms, giving me a disapproving look. “You know what pizzas can do to your glucose levels, right? This is worse than I thought.”

I snatched my phone from the table and waved it in his face. “Nothingcould possibly be worse. Have you seen the video? Seven million views and counting. Tens of thousands of comments, ninety-nine percent of them laughing at me. Hundreds of texts from everyone and their grandmas wanting to know how I’m doing, while implying how ridiculous I was to have turned down the proposal. And don’t ask me how many friend requests came in from random strangers.” I shuddered. “It’s creepy. The only silver lining was the firefighters got there in time, or I’d probably be in prison right now for burning down an entire ballroom.”

“But you’re not.” Naomi reached for another brownie. “Can I take some of these home?”

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