Page 124 of Ruthless Touch

Love it even more when she wanders our space in her t-shirt and panties. For obvious reasons like the fact she looks damn delicious so stripped down and on display, bare thighs and curvy hips all within view.

But also because it shows the intimacy we’ve developed. The blushing is part of that too.

“Throw in breakfast in bed and you’ve got a deal,” she quips, entering deeper into the dining area.

“Sit down,” I command, my grin broadening. “I’ll bring it to you.”

She rolls her eyes, both hating and loving when I give her commands. It’s a rarity for a dominant woman like her, which is part of why she seems to secretly enjoy it.

She settles into one of the wicker chairs like I’ve asked, but does so almost defiantly, stretching her limbs like a lazy cat in the morning sun.

I carry over the mugs first and then the plates loaded with rice and the rolled omelets.

“You know, you could learn a thing or two in the kitchen from me,” I tease some more, taking my seat across from her.

“The only time I’m good with knives is when I’m assassinating someone,” she retorts. “Trust me, you don’t want me anywhere near the stove. Not if you don’t want the place to burn down. When every other girl asked for an Easy Bake Oven for Christmas, I wanted a bazooka.”

I pause mid-sip of coffee to laugh. “That doesn’t surprise me one bit. My memories are scrambled in my faulty brain. But I vaguely remember my favorite playmate being rough.”

“Funny you say that, because I’ve thought a lot about that time. I still can’t remember you. Not clearly.”

“Childhood trauma does that to you. You must’ve blocked out that whole period.”

“At least you have an excuse. Your accident affects you to this day. How’s your head today?” Her gaze flicks to the barely visible scar along my hairline where my head trauma originated all those years ago.

“Better lately,” I admit, then I grin again. “Probably has to do with nobody headbutting me recently.”

“I’ve apologized how many times for that by now? You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance, feline. You fought viciously and almost killed me. I’m milking it ’til we’re old and gray.”

“Who chased who though?” she counters, both brows raised. “Don’t start nothing won’t be nothing.”

“Spoken like a true sexy assassin.”

After breakfast, we migrate to the shaded patio that overlooks the beach and sea waves. The cool breeze blows steadily, adding to the scenic atmosphere. We watch the waves crash at the shore, Elise’s head on my shoulders.

“Are you still conflicted about your father?” she asks, her tone pensive.

I let the question hang unanswered for a few seconds as I consider how I feel.

“He always undervalued me,” I say finally, watching a fishing boat sail across the blue waters. “Always treated me like I was mediocre and unworthy of the family name. Like everything I did was a disappointment compared to what Ho-seok accomplished, or what he expected from a son.

“But that didn’t mean he didn’t love me. That was just his brand of love—harsh, conditional, wrapped up in expectations I could never meet. That he couldn’t even meet himself. I think...” I slant my head to meet her gaze. “I can miss him without missing how he treated me.”

Elise’s lips quirk in a small knowing smile. “I feel the same about Uncle Jerald, even now that I know everything he did. A part of me still misses Unc—the man who taught me how to ride a bike and helped with homework. But I don’t miss the manipulation or the lies or the way he shaped my entire life aroundhisrevenge.”

“That’s the interesting thing about people,” I say. “We all have a duality. And good and bad pieces of ourselves. Some worse than others.”

She nods along. “Probably a little too true for my liking. I keep thinking about my dad and how I knew him as this teddy bear. This loving, fierce protector. But he was a criminal mastermind, Gun. He was one of Korea’s most successful arms dealers.”

“I know. He was supplyingmyfather with them,” I joke darkly.

“I’ve spent my whole life avenging him. Trying to make his death mean something. It was my life’s mission. Unc made sure of it. But you know I’ve never thought about myself. What am I supposed to do now?”

“You’re still you. You were always more than what he made you. That’s the duality of you, Goyangi-ne.”

She sits up from where her head rests on my shoulder and peers into my eyes. “And what about you?”