Page 1 of Signed, I'm Yours!
CHAPTER 1
SEOJUN
“More champagne, sir?” I look up at the pretty Korean girl offering to top me up. Shaking my head, I touch the rim of my glass.
She holds my gaze for a moment before I say, “Screw it,” and let her refill my flute. She smiles, nods, bows, and walks away, leaving me to stew in my thoughts.
Where are they? Why can’t I find them? I’ve searched for them high and low. I’ve searched everywhere and found nothing.
I miss them so much. I thought maybe Korea was the answer. That perhaps I had been mistaken all this time. Maybe they’d returned home, and I was supposed to follow them there. But they weren’t there either.
I’m not giving up. I’ll search every country if I have to and Iwillfind them.
“Mr. Walters, please fasten your seatbelt. We’re about to land at JFK,” the captain announces.
I follow his instructions, turning to the window as New York looms closer and closer, bringing me back to my failures. Back to the place I lost them. Back to haunted memories of how badly I screwed up.
Naturally, the captain is top-notch, so we land with minimal bumpage. I get up, sip the last dregs of my champagne, take my fur coat from the stewardess, and walk out of the private jet.
I barely take two steps before airport security surrounds me, guns aimed.
“Get down!” they shout in unison like a terrible choir.
“Me? On the floor? Darlings, I don’t do that unless there’s a pretty good incentive.”
I scan the crowd of armed men and women, but no one tickles my fancy, and I am the Sinister Seomyeong. I don’t get on my knees for just anyone.
“Get down now!” shouts someone behind me, and I turn to look at the man approaching.
“Have you seen these pants? Dior leather pants. Do you know how expensive they are?” I ask.
He’s a big, burly man with more hair on his face than head, and oh girl, I would have him on my bed any time of day. If only he wasn’t pointing a gun at me and was pointing something else.
“You are under arrest. For theft, violating international aviation laws, unlawful use of aircraft, and customs violations,” he shouts, and I flinch.
“Who? Me?” I ask. “And do you have to be so loud?”
“I’ll be as loud as I want. Are you Derek Walters?” he asks, approaching me with caution. As if I’m a terrorist threat or something. But I’m no threat. I’m just a small, innocent boy with a gorgeous fashion sense and a rather unfortunate fake name.
“I am indeed.”
“Then I hate to inform you that you’re under arrest.”
“Yeah, yeah, you said that already.”
A man walks up behind me, handcuffs at the ready.
“Ooh. Restraints, already? Kinky. We haven’t even met yet,” I say, but neither man I’m sandwiched between laughs.
Handcuffs guy tries to…well, cuff me, and I can’t have that. Not only because I can’t risk him scratching my perfectly good wrists, but also, the last thing I want after a fourteen-hour flight is to drag this charade on any longer than it has to be.
“Hang on!” I start and bring my hands forward to avoid Handcuffs Guy. “I own this private jet. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t steal anything.”
I lie, of course. I am the Sinister Seomyeong. I lie and steal and cheat. As supervillains do.
The man narrows his eyes, looking me up and down with disapproval.
I guess he’s straight, if the dismissive grimace is anything to go by.
