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prologue
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It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...
Isn't that how the Charles Dickens novel starts?
You remembered reading that in school and loving it, thinking it was genius. How life could be at its best and at its worst at the same time; how you could struggle, but still love and laugh and be happy. How bad times were never truly all bad. You'd devoured the book, and then the rest of Dickens' repertoire, because you were nothing if not an overachiever with a desperate need to see things through to the end.
But here, in your father's sixtieth floor office in the heart of Seoul's industrial district ten years later, you couldn't help hoping that Charles Dickens had died in some sort of freak accident.
Because this, truly, was just the worst of times.
"I really don't think this is a big deal," your father was saying now, reclining regally in his plush leather chair. Behind the gigantic desk, he looked tiny, not at all the powerful CEO of the largest interior design company in Korea - the one he had conveniently secured you a job in two years' prior.
"Not a big deal? Are you kidding?" you whined, gazing at him in disbelief across the desk. "You're not keeping your promise."
"I promised you a promotion after two years, sweetheart," your father pointed out. "That's exactly what you're getting."
"Yes, but you didn't quite mention this particular caveat to the promotion, did you?"you hissed, jabbing a thumb towards the man sat in the chair beside you.
Jaewon, Associate Director at Min Design. Your father's right hand man.
And, if your father had his way - your new fiancé.
"You seriously expect me to marry him," you asked your father incredulously. "I don't even know him! We're not even friends!"
"Aw, come on," Jaewon almost purred, flashing you a shit-eating grin that accentuated his mean beady eyes. "We can be friendly, if that's what you want."
You blinked, deadpan. "I'm sorry, I think I was just a little bit sick in my mouth."
Jaewon's smile faltered.
Take that you chauvinistic asshole, you triumphed internally. He really was revolting. In the last two years of working for him, he'd hit on you and every other woman in your department countless times. You couldn't understand why your father still employed him as his assistant director - he was utterly incorrigible.
