Loving The JEON

CHAPTER 30:-

When I open my eyes again, Jungkook is regarding me closely, a dark prince. It must be the dinner jacket and bow tie, but he looks older, sophisticated, a devastatingly handsome roue with licentious intent.

He simply takes my breath away. I'm in his sexual thrall, and if I'm to believe him, he's in mine. The thought brings a smile to my face, and his answering grin is blinding.

"So what can we expect at this event?"

"Oh, the usual stuff," Jungkook says breezily.

"Not usual for me," I remind him.

Jungkook smiles fondly and kisses my hand again. "Lots of people flashing their cash. Auction, raffle, dinner, dancing - my mother knows how to throw a party." He smiles and for the first time all day, I allow myself to feel a little excited about this party.

There is a line of expensive cars heading up the driveway of the Jeon mansion. Long, pale pink paper lanterns hang over the drive, and as we inch closer in the Audi, I can see they are everywhere. In the early evening light, they look magical, as if we're entering an enchanted kingdom. I glance at Jungkook. How suitable for my prince - and my childish excitement blooms, eclipsing all other feelings.

"Masks on," Jungkook grins, and as he dons his simple black mask, my prince becomes something darker, more sensual.

All I can see of his face is his beautiful chiseled mouth and strong jaw.

Holy fuck... My heartbeat lurches at the sight of him. I fasten my mask and grin at him, ignoring the hunger deep in my body.

Taylor pulls into the driveway, and a valet opens Jungkook's door. Sawyer leaps out to open mine.

"Ready?" Jungkook asks.

"As I'll ever be."

"You look beautiful, Lalisa." He kisses my hand and exits the car.

A dark green carpet runs along the lawn to one side of the house, leading to the impressive grounds at the rear. Jungkook has a protective arm around me, resting his hand on my waist, as we follow the green carpet with a steady stream of Seattle's elite dressed in their finery and wearing all manner of masks the lanterns lighting the way. Two photographers marshal guests to pose for pictures against the backdrop of an ivy-strewn arbor.

"Mr. Jeon!" one of the photographers calls. Jungkook nods in acknowledgement and pulls me close as we pose quickly for a photo. How do they know it's him? His trademark, unruly copper hair no doubt.

"Two photographers?" I ask Jungkook.

"One is from the Seattle Times; the other is for a souvenir. We'll be able to buy a copy later."

Oh, my picture in the press again. Leila briefly enters my mind. This is how she found me, posing with Jungkook. The thought is unsettling, though it's comforting that I am unrecognizable beneath my mask.

At the end of the line, white-suited servers hold trays of glasses brimming with champagne, and I'm grateful when Jungkook passes me a glass - effectively distracting me from my dark thoughts.

We approach a large white pergola hung with smaller versions of the paper lanterns.

Beneath it, shines a black and white checkered dance floor surrounded by a low fence with entrances on three sides. At each entrance stand two elaborate ice sculptures of swans. The fourth side of the pergola is occupied by a stage where a string quartet is playing softly, a haunting, ethereal piece I don't recognize. The stage looks set for a big band but as there's no sign of the musicians yet. I figure this must be for later. Taking my hand, Jungkook leads me between swans onto the dance floor where the other guests are congregating, chatting over glasses of champagne.

Toward the shoreline stands an enormous marquee, open on the side nearest to us so I can glimpse the formally arranged tables and chairs. There are so many!

"How many people are coming?" I ask Jungkook, thrown by the scale of the marquee.

"I think about three hundred. You'll have to ask my mother." He smiles down at me, and maybe it's because I can only see his smile that lights up his face, but my inner goddess swoons.

"Jungkook!"

A young woman appears out of the throng and throws her arms around his neck, and immediately I know it's Somi. She's dressed in a sleek, pale pink, full-length chiffon gown with a stunning, delicately detailed Venetian mask to match. She looks amazing. And for a moment, I have never felt so grateful for the dress Jungkook has given me.

"Lisa! Oh, darling, you look gorgeous!" She gives me a quick hug. "You must come and meet my friends. None of them can believe that Jungkook finally has a girlfriend."

I shoot a quick panicked glance at Jungkook, who shrugs in a resigned I-know-she's-impossible-I-had-to-live-with-her-for-years way, and let Somi lead me over to a group of four young women, all expensively attired and impeccably groomed.

Somi makes hasty introductions. Three of them are sweet and kind, but Rema, I think her name is, regards me sourly from beneath her red mask.

"Of course we all thought Jungkook was gay," she says snidely, concealing her rancor with a large, fake smile.

Somi pouts at her.

"Rema, behave yourself. It's obvious he has excellent taste in women. He was waiting for the right one to come along, and it wasn't you!"

Rema blushes the same color as her mask, as do I. Could this be any more uncomfortable?"Ladies, if I could claim my date back, please?" Snaking his arm around my waist, Jungkook pulls me to his side. All four women flush, grin and fidget, his dazzling smile doing what it always does. Somi glances at me and rolls her eyes, and I have to laugh.

"Lovely to meet you," I say as he drags me away.

"Thank you," I mouth at Jungkook when we're some distance away.

"I saw that Rema was with Somi. She is one nasty piece of work."

"She likes you," I mutter dryly.

He shudders. "Well, the feeling is not mutual. Come, let me introduce you to some people."

I spend the next half hour in a whirlwind of introductions. I meet two Hollywood actors, two more CEOs, and several eminent physicians. Holy shit... there is no way I am going to remember everyone's name.

Jungkook keeps me close at his side, and I'm grateful. Frankly, the wealth, the glamour, and the sheer lavish scale of the event intimidates me. I have never been to anything like this in my life.

The white-suited servers move effortlessly through the growing crowd of guests with bottles of champagne, topping off my glass with worrying regularity. I must not drink too much. I must not drink too much, I repeat to myself, but I'm beginning to feel light-headed, and I don't know if it's the champagne, the charged atmosphere of mystery and excitement created by the masks, or the secret silver balls. The dull ache below my waist is becoming impossible to ignore.

"So you work at SIP?" asks a balding gentleman in a half-bear - or is it a dog? - mask.

"Heard rumors of a hostile takeover."

I flush. There is a hostile takeover from a man who has more money than sense and is a stalker par excellence.

"I'm just a lowly assistant, Mr. Eccles. I wouldn't know about these things."

Jungkook says nothing and smiles blandly at Eccles.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The master of ceremonies, wearing an impressive black and white harlequin mask, interrupts us. "Please take your seats. Dinner is served."

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