Page 35 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
Chapter Fifteen
Anthony
The next morning at around ten, I swivel in my office chair as my phone beeps with a text. I pick it up from my desk and glance at it. It’s just Harry, not Iris. How deflating.
Coming back to L.A.
I tap the edge of the phone. Mother’s been increasingly agitated recently, and Edgar asked Harry to visit because there’s nobody he can’t cheer up. Last time we chatted, Harry said Mother fainted dead away.
The old guilt is difficult to shake off. If it weren’t for me, Katherine would’ve lived. Then Mother wouldn’t have become so emotionally brittle. How’s Mother doing?
Okay now. The doc said it was just stress.
My eyebrows rise. Over what? As far as I know, the family’s doing fine. As it should. Father is semi-retired, but Edgar’s smart and driven. Sensible, too. Unlike some who want to make their mark in the world, Edgar is more about growing Blackwood Energy sustainably and ensuring it can continue to provide jobs for people in and around Tempérane. And, of course, keep the family comfortably wealthy.
No idea. Sam, maybe? I overheard them on the phone. She sounded pissed.
A falling out? Edgar said she keeps lending money to Sam. So she won’t be investing with him anymore? If she dumps him, I’ll have more options for dealing with that smarmy bastard.
Dunno. Didn’t hear much. She caught me. Got mad. Which is why she’s kicking me out.
Ah. That explains Harry’s sudden trip back to Los Angeles. Mother usually enjoys having him around. Everyone adores him because he’s like a big-eyed puppy you can’t stay upset with.
“Sir, you have a visitor,” Wei says over the intercom.
Is it Iris, here to surprise me? Nah. Wei wouldn’t have called her a “visitor.” Audrey can’t get through the lobby; building security has orders to toss her out on sight. And Wei would know better than to bother me with her in any case.
“Who? Bobbi?” I say hopefully. TJ’s cousin works as a bodyguard, and I hired her for Iris, figuring the arrangement would be more comfortable than having a man.
“No. A woman from the Hae Min Group.”
The Hae Min Group? I have business dealings with them, but the last project we did together was six months ago. A huge club and theater. Highly profitable, without any issues, as far as I know.
Still… Something must’ve gone wrong, very badly so, for the Korean conglomerate to send a representative over without notice. But…a woman? All my contacts there are men, and except for a select few, the company’s still testosterone-heavy from the mid- to top management. “Send her in.”
A woman and a man walk in together. Since they’re from Hae Min, they’re dressed well and conservatively. But while the man is in a black suit, the woman is in a pale peach dress, a black lambskin Gucci bag dangling from her forearm. Pricey jewelry glitters on her ears and throat, but there are no bracelets or rings.
From the cool power in her dark, wide-set eyes to the slightly arrogant tilt of her chin to the confident set of her shoulders, it’s obvious she’s the one in charge, even though she’s got to be a decade younger than the man. Her mouth is full and blood red against the pale skin. Long auburn hair, expertly and expensively cut, frames a small, heart-shaped face.
Nothing about her says corporate. Hae Min workers don’t dress like that—or exude wealth and privilege the way she does.
She has to be a member of the Hae family itself. But why is she here? We’ve never met, privately or otherwise. She’s not in the management. When I did the basic vetting for the family before doing business with them, Chairman Hae’s only daughter showed no interest in ruling the family empire. Have things changed?
“Mr. Blackwood,” she says, with almost no trace of accent. “My apologies for this abrupt visit. I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Polite. Cautious. Interesting. “Not at all. Please call me Anthony. Have a seat.” I gesture.
She takes an empty chair, while the man remains standing. She purses her lips, then speaks briefly to him in Korean, her voice low. I only catch his name and title—Secretary Kim. I’ve picked up a few Korean words for corporate positions because of how Koreans refer to each other at work—Director Park, Auditor Lim, Vice President Choi and so on.
The man murmurs something, his tone respectful. She waves her hand dismissively, and he bows and leaves, closing the door behind him. What is so important—and secretive—that she needs to be alone with me?
She turns to me. “Again, my apologies. He’s…sometimes overly concerned.”
“No worries. What can I do for you?” I ask. Something about her is vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“My name is Yuna Hae,” she says, confirming my initial guess about her identity. “I’m here to talk to you about a video. It has you, someone I presume is your date, Audrey Duff and Ryder Reed at a restaurant here in Los Angeles.”
Fucking Ryder.If he hadn’t shown up, or at least controlled his costar better, then none of this would be happening. He and Audrey ruined the special dinner I planned to celebrate Iris’s first job. And of course any video with him in it goes viral.
