Page 79

I laugh. “But I want to see that Black woman’s curls. Why do you hide them when you sleep?”

My question is genuine.

I’ve never lived with a woman, nor even allowed one to sleep in my bed. But I’m fairly certain that Monroe’s satin bonnet isn’t worn by most Korean women. From what I understand, it has more to do with a person’s hair type.

Monroe isn’t irritated by my question. Instead, she seems amused by my curiosity.

“It helps protect my curls,” she answers simply. “Wearing one to bed helps prevent breakage or frizz. Curls can be very delicate, especially type four. One of my biggest reservationsabout moving to South Korea was being able to still care for my natural hair.”

“You have done well,” I say as if I’m an expert. I cup her chin and drop a kiss on her full lips. “Your curls are always shiny and defined. Not that I know much about hair.”

“And we’re back to you needing a haircut,” she teases.

“Is it okay that I touched your hair last night? I got aggressive.”

She giggles. “In case you haven’t noticed, Jin, I like it a little aggressive. If I didn’t want you to touch my hair, I’d let you know. Maybe if I had a sew-in or wig, but if it’s just my natural hair? Nope.”

“Keep it like this. I like the curls.”

It’s true. She has a whole headful of them. There’re probably thousands of little coils that cover her head, each seemingly full of life. In a way, it’s much more interesting than the flat, straight hair that grows out of my head.

Monroe seems to read my mind and sense what I’m thinking. Her hands slide along my jaw, careful at the bruising, and she asks, “Am I the first Black woman you’ve been with, Jin? Be honest.”

“Yes,” I answer candidly. “Dating other races isn’t common in Korea. And as I’m sure you can imagine, I haven’t dated often.”

“Jin, have you ever had a girlfriend?”

“Once. When I was a teenager.”

“And?”

“It was terrible,” I say to her laughter. “She was clingy and expected to see me all the time. Her family wanted to meet me. Then they found out I was a gangster and forbade her from seeing me. That didn’t stop her. She wanted to sneak around behind their backs. But I broke it off with her.”

“Ouch.”

“It was for the best. She drove me so crazy, I might’ve ended up throttling her.”

Monroe shakes her head, half amused, half disapproving. “So you’ve only used women for sex?”

“Yes. Occasionally. When urges arise. Does that bother you?”

“A little,” she admits. “I like men who can commit.”

I appreciate the honesty. She’s not telling me what I want to hear. She’s sticking to her convictions and beliefs. I reach up and stroke my thumb over her cheek.

“It wasn’t about being unable to commit, Tokki-ya. I am a disciplined man who has committed himself to the oath I took in the Baekho. Icancommit. But only when it’s something worth committing for.”

“This could’ve been a mistake, Jin,” she mumbles. “You’ve put your position in your gang on the line. If they find out what you’ve done?—”

“I’ll accept the consequences when they come.”

“But they’ll kill you—and me.”

“You’re not dying,” I tell her. “Monroe Ross isalreadydead. But you? You’ll live another life. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll make the preparations.”

“But what about…” She nibbles on her bottom lip as if to stop the question from spilling out.

“Us?” I ask.