Page 7 of Fallen Starboy

Chapter

Four

JUN

I hated everything about this arrangement.

Hated that I was stuck with Arista as my assistant.

Hated that I didn’t know where anything was in this town.

Hated that the guys had already been called back to Korea for an impromptu meeting with the label.

Hated that I had to share a house with my mortal enemy. Hated that she’d be so close to Yejin?—

Fuck. I had to explain the situation to Yejin.

She’d never seen the idol side of my life in person. All she knew was her daddy was a star, and sometimes she saw me on the tv, dancing and singing on a stage in front of thousands of people. She’d never been subjected to the lifestyle of a celebrity, since she’d grown up in secrecy.

Now, though, she’d be facing it head-on, with no warning. I needed to explain the changes to her before they overwhelmed her.

The company car Arista spoke of felt cramped, with just the two of us occupying the interior. I tried desperately to ignore her presence, but it was quickly proving impossible.

Her scent filled the air, forced its way into my nostrils, teasing my brain with the slight familiarity.

She still wore the perfume brand I’d bought her as a birthday gift all those years ago.

Her hair, once pin-straight in an effort to fit in, was tied back in a severe ponytail, wisps of her bangs hanging in the front to accentuate the shape of her face.

I still noticed the way she chewed her bottom lip when traffic got heavy on the freeway.

She still gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white when she was fighting the urge to yell at idiots who cut her off or swerved too close.

I hated it all.

Hated the way it reminded me of better times. Hated how it made me want to turn back the hands of time and make her stay. Or go with her. Hated how weak I felt, especially as the urge to touch her rose inside me.

I hated her for making me forget I was supposed to hate her still.

The silence was deafening. I had to say something, anything, or I was going to go crazy. Even if it was just arguing with her, it would be better than the stony lack of sound echoing in my ears.

“You stop listening to music in the car or something? Sheesh, adulthood really sucked the fun out of you.”

Her hand darted out and switched the radio on, her eyes glued to the road as she fiddled with the controls by memory until she found what she was looking for.

“The high today is a stifling ninety-five, folks, so make sure you’re staying hydrated and staying cool out there.

Next up on our rotation is a local band from here in Nocturna Beach, Daytime Darkness.

Their new hit single, Follower, is climbing the charts fast, and critics are raving. But I’ll let you decide for yourself.”

The band was good, their song even better. I found myself tapping my toes to the beat, in time to the way Arista’s fingers tapped the wheel as well. When the last chords echoed in the cab of the car, she smiled wistfully and turned the volume down a hair.

“What do you think?” she asked slowly, absently, her eyes still forward.

“It’s music.” My eyes trailed to the window on my right, everything passing us in a blur as we merged onto an exit ramp. “They’ve got potential if they keep putting out bangers like that.”

“They’re a new talent with kNight Records. Signed last year. One of the members writes all their songs. She used to submit lyrics and songs to our label as an anonymous lyricist. We hired her on and found out she had a talent for singing, too.”

“Good for you,” I snapped, not wanting to hear about all her success stories. “Did you seal the deal with them too?”

She shrugged, not picking up on my emotions. “I recruited the bassist from Spain, and the drummer from Sweden. Both very nice fellows, too. Still don’t speak a lick of English, though, so they have a permanent translator on their team.”

“You didn’t volunteer to translate for them, too?” The worn leather of the armrest had a hairline crack down the center, and I picked at the fissure absently, needing to do something with my fingers. “Shocker.”

“I don’t volunteer to translate for just anyone.”

The urge to roll my eyes was strong. “Right. Just ex-boyfriends.”

There it was.

Her grip tightened so much on the wheel that I could hear the leather cracking under her fingers. “I was given the job, I didn’t volunteer for it. And had I known who I’d be working with, I likely would have run in the other direction.”

Wow.

Turned out she hadn’t changed a bit. She was still running away from me, even now.

Not that I wanted her to stay.

I didn’t want her. She only brought pain. And pain and disappointment were the last things I needed right now in my life. I opened my mouth to say so, but what came out instead was?—

“I told her you were dead.”

Arista nearly rear-ended the car in front of her at the red light. My neck ached as my head snapped forward and then back, the brakes clearly working in this damn vehicle.

She threw it in park in the center of our turning lane and twisted in her seat, looking at me—no, looking through me, as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Dead?” she said slowly, softly, like there was no fight in her anymore. “You told our daughter I was dead?”

“Seemed like the best option at the time.”

And I didn’t plan to correct that misconception.

Not now, not ever.

To me, the woman I’d planned to give up everything for, she was dead, in the truest sense of the word. She killed everything I ever felt for her when she disappeared, had my child, and then abandoned us both in Korea when she ran home with her tail between her legs.

For a few years, I hired a PI to watch her, keep tabs on her. I thought maybe she’d eventually see the error of her ways and reach out. I thought she might change her mind.

After the third year with no contact and no hint of change, I told him to drop the case and swore to myself that my memories of us were dead and buried.

That my feelings were dead, too. I put it all in a little box in the back of my memory and locked it away, refusing to entertain my own delusions anymore.

But now . . .

Now, I wasn’t so sure I’d done a good enough job at locking all that away.

She shook her head and tried desperately to ignore me until we pulled up in front of a house bigger than anything I’d ever lived in when I was under my old label.

“What the hell is this place?”

The smug smile on her lips was a flashback to the past that I definitely did not need right now. “This is your new home,” she said sweetly, as if I were an idiot for not realizing it. “What did you expect?”

“Do all kNight talent acquisitions get houses this nice?” I whispered in awe, remembering the dorms we’d been smashed into when we signed as debut artists. “Or is the company showing off to impress their new client?”

“You should see the place they gave GirlCore. Fifteen bedrooms, and there’s only two of them.”

I shook my head and followed behind her as she led the way up the steps to the huge, modern-architectural dream home the company had seen fit to put me up in.

There was so much to take in.

Granite flagstones led up to the porch of the fancy A-frame, outfitted with a few plants and a single motion-activated light, just enough to give the sense that someone lived there and nothing more.

The yard was freshly mowed, manicured pristinely, every tree trimmed and the bushes uniform and shaped in a neat little row.

A privacy fence lined the property, which made me feel a little better about the whole thing, for Yejin’s sake.

And then she opened the door and stepped inside, and my jaw dropped.

The interior was worlds fancier than the exterior.

Leather seating in the living room area, fancy artistry on the walls, and avant-garde statues on stands and shelves made of metal and glass.

The carpet was white, the walls were white, and the backyard was visible through a floor-to-ceiling wall of glass windows, which let in so much natural light it was insane.

Someone had been by recently, it looked like, because there was a fresh pot of coffee sitting on a warmer in the kitchen. I could smell it from the foyer.

But though my nose was in the kitchen, my eyes were on the open floor plan and the half-moon staircase leading to the second floor.

I could see several doors from my vantage point, lined up on a half-hallway, half balcony design, and below the second floor was a set of double doors leading to a completely walled-off mystery room.

My curiosity was piqued.

Arista must’ve noticed, because she heaved a sigh and slipped her shoes off by the door, padding around the entryway barefoot. The second her toes hit the carpeted flooring, a smile crept over her face, and she hummed softly, breaking the silence.

“I’m going to grab a cup of joe. You go ahead and explore, if you’d like.” She waved her hand in my direction as a dismissal. “None of the rooms should be locked currently, but each bedroom has the capability to be locked, for personal privacy needs.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, already halfway up the stairs.

The rooms were easy enough to pick out. Someone had already gone through the task of picking out basic furniture.

The smallest room was outfitted with an obstacle course bed frame that Yejin would just adore, along with cute little rainbow cubbies and a window seat that would let her soak up the sunshine even on cold and rainy days.

The floor was hardwood, but had a huge area rug in the center, filled with a fantasy scene that looked like it’d been plucked right out of a kid’s novel.

The room directly across the hall from it was slightly bigger, with very sparse decorating.

A neutral toned futon couch sat along one wall, a desk outfitted with a printer, a computer, and some other odds and ends to the left, and a chest of drawers on the right.

The walls were empty, and there wasn’t much of a personal touch to the place.

I assumed this would be either a spare room after Arista was gone, or an office space for myself, should I want one.

Hell, maybe I could give it to Pujin, since he pretty much stayed with me on a permanent basis for Yejin’s safety.

But where was her bed? Or was she planning to post up on the futon? That could get uncomfortable fast.

What does it matter? Why should I care about her comfort?

I shook the unwarranted and undeserved compassion for her situation from my mind and closed the door, heading for the third.

The door beside her room was a bathroom, and it was huge—bigger than her room, actually.

It had a separate door leading to what I could only assume was the master bedroom, with a lock that was very much engaged at the moment.

The tub was huge, the vanity had two sinks, even the cabinet was outfitted with more plush towels and robes than one man could ever need.

Was there only one bathroom in this whole house?

That could get annoying.

I pushed the only complaint from my mind, opened the second floor's last door, and walked right into a room reminiscent of the presidential suite at a high-end hotel.

The bed was on a riser in the center of the room, the carpet wall-to-wall shag in a deep shade of slate grey.

There was no dresser in here, but a built-in sliding door revealed a walk-in closet as big as my first shared room at the dorms back in Korea.

My jaw dropped as I dragged my fingers over the drawers built into one wall, display cases for ties and jewelry just waiting to be filled.

Empty poles for hangers sat waiting for a wardrobe fit for a king.

A full-length mirror adorned one wall, and I imagined what it would be like to stand in front of it and try on outfits, preparing to make a public appearance in style.

And then a voice behind me caused me to jump so high I nearly smacked my head off a pole I’d bent down under.

“Not what you’re used to, is it?”

I spun on a dime and nearly came nose to nose with her, standing there with her hands behind her back, a shit-eating, proud grin on her lips.

For a second, I didn’t breathe. I didn’t blink; I couldn’t even think past how many nights did I dream of what I’d say if I ever got her alone again ? —

“Appa?”