FOREVER LIES

Part 18

Lisa

"How did you find me under the bridge?" I asked as we recovered in my bed some minutes later. Taehyung lay on his back with me draped over him, my head on his shoulder as I listened to his thudding heartbeat.

"One of the security guards told me you had left the building."

"You asked a security guard about me?"

"No, he called me to tell me you'd left."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because I paid him to."

"What? Why?" I lifted onto my elbow and stared down at Taehyung, his face impassive.

"Does it matter?" he asked somberly.

"Yes, I want to know what's going on here." I searched his face, trying to figure out what to make of his admission.

"I told you I'm not like most men. When I see something I want, I go after it, whether that means an unexpected elevator mishap or coincidental meetings on the street. I'm that way in all aspects of my life. If there is a business venture I want to take part in, I ensure it happens. I will never sit by and simply hope good fortune falls into my lap."

Was he telling me he'd set up the elevator malfunction just to talk with me? And he'd ... what ... paid the security guards to keep an eye on me? Holy shit. Was I horrified or flattered? My gaze dropped from his face down to where his hand rested against his chest, his knuckles raw and bloody. Taehyung had kept tabs on me, and that had saved me. My stomach clenched viciously to think of what would have happened had he not come after me.

Getting up from the bed, I retrieved a first aid kit in the bathroom and sat cross-legged on the bed next to him. "Let me clean up your hands," I said softly as I twisted the cap off a tube of ointment and took his hand in mine.

I glanced up, and our eyes met. His obsidian gaze flashed with lust so tangible, it stirred goosebumps across my skin. I offered a shy smile, and he smirked back.

"I take it that means I'm forgiven?"

"How about you tell me where you learned to fight like that." I still wasn't sure what to think of Taehyung, but condemning him for his actions was difficult when they had saved me from what could have been a horrible nightmare.

"Growing up, I was in my fair share of fights." His eyes turned up to the ceiling as he spoke about his past. "As I got older, hitting the heavy bag became a great stress reliever. I worked with a trainer for a few years, did some sparring, but never any actual matches. Now, I mostly hit the bag on my own. I like to stay fit-you never know when you'll need to defend yourself."

His eyes dropped back to me, but I avoided his gaze, repacking the items into the kit. I'd done a great job pushing thoughts of my attack to the back of my mind, but his reminder brought them back in frightening clarity. I could taste the fear I'd felt when I was backed against that cement column. I never wanted to experience that terror again.

"I think it's my turn to ask a question," Taehyung said, drawing my eyes back to his and my thoughts to the present. "Why were you out wandering the city in the middle of the day?"

I took a deep breath and dropped my eyes down to where my hands were folded in my lap. "My boss said something that upset me, and I've been under so much stress, I just needed to take a breather. I was so lost in my head, I didn't notice how far I'd wandered."

When he didn't respond, I peered up at him. Taehyung was unrecognizable. He looked like another man entirely- someone terrifying. Those dark eyes that normally devoured me with such heat were cut shards of glass, and his angular jaw was rigid with tension. He rose up to sit across from me, his eyes boring into mine.

"What did he say to you?" The words were a menacing rumble. His ire wasn't directed at me, but it was frightening, nonetheless.

"It doesn't matter what he said. I went to HR to file a complaint, so he'll be dealt with. I don't want to rehash what happened with him or think about the incident under the bridge. Can we talk about something else?" I had misled him by insinuating I had filed a complaint, but I was going to at the earliest opportunity, so a small white lie wouldn't matter.

His eyes narrowed, but he conceded. "You said you were under a lot of stress-what else has been bothering you?"

You. Us. "My parents always stress me out."

"How so?"

"Maybe it sounds childish, but I never feel like I measure up. I have two sisters-the younger one is an artist who can do no wrong, and the oldest was taken under my father's wing a long time ago, a few years after our brother died. I've always been stuck in the middle, the odd man out. I even went to school to work at my dad's company, and most of the time, I'm not sure he notices I'm there."

"I think it sounds perfectly reasonable to want their praise, but you can't let their opinions rule you forever."

"I know, and I'm finally starting to realize their opinions don't matter. It doesn't change anything if Dad is proud of me or not. I have to live my life in a way that makes me happy- it's my life." I was pleased with the conviction in my tone, recognizing there was truth in what I said. The sentiment had been building inside of me, and it felt good to put the thoughts into words.

Taehyung smiled softly at me before his lips fell. "How did your brother die?"

In a way, I appreciated that he had asked rather than proffering the token condolences that are customary. He didn't mince words or play games; he came right out and asked what he wanted to know.

"My dad took my brother and sister to a movie one night. On the way back home, they were mugged, and my brother was killed. He was eleven." It had been almost seventeen years since I'd lost my big brother, but it still hurt to talk about it.

"How old were you?"

"Seven. My older sister and I were at a school program dress rehearsal that night. We'd been dancing and singing while my brother was murdered. After that, my family changed. We have our moments, but for the most part, it tore us apart."

He nodded in understanding.

"How did you lose your mother?" I asked quietly.

"Drive-by shooting-wrong place at the wrong time. She had just stepped out of the house to run to the market and was gunned down on the sidewalk. I heard the shots and ran outside to find her in a puddle of her own blood. Some street thug with a target on his back had been walking by at the same time-a stray bullet hit her right in the heart." His voice was so devoid of emotion, it gave me chills.

"How old were you?"

"Seventeen. Yeji was only fourteen." His younger sister -she'd still been a young girl.

"Did you have to go into foster care?"

"Only for a couple months. The second I turned eighteen, I petitioned for custody of her."

"I can't imagine raising a teenage girl when you were only a kid yourself." I thought back to what a nightmare my sisters and I had been at that age and grimaced.

He huffed out a laugh. "Nothing about it was easy, but I did my best. You deal with what life hands you, but that's why I try to ensure in every way possible that life gives me a winning hand."

When he put it that way, and knowing what I now knew about him, his actions sounded perfectly reasonable. How could I fault him for being domineering and assertive when he was taking charge of his life, trying to give himself the best chance to be happy? He had seen his mother gunned down and been forced to raise his young sister; and despite those odds, he'd picked himself up and made a success of himself. His perseverance and honour were more than just admirable; they were incredible.

"Does the stalking mean you consider me a winning hand?" I asked coyly.

"Baby, you're a royal flush." He gave me a rakish grin that was so delectable on him, I jumped onto his lap and pressed my lips to his.

There was no longer any doubt. I was in way over my head.

***

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