The Contract: Sunshine Read online

It was his fault that she thought he was a willing participant; but Yoon thought after the third woman he dismissed as a potential suitable bride, his mother would get the hint that he wasn’t ready to give up his freedom yet. It has been this way since he’d turned thirty. Now that he was thirty-two, his mother obviously was getting desperate.

  His mother, Hye Da Young, wanted grandchildren and Yoon had hope the pressure would be taken off of him once his younger sister Sa Rae married Leslie’s brother, Bong Tae, but because she was having difficulty conceiving, the pressure was on him once again.

  His mother was always in the state of “dying” and the older she got, the more she used her age and pending death to control him. Of course there was absolutely nothing wrong with her health. During her last physical, her blood pressure was lower than his; but that was understandable considering he wasn’t harassing her every day on the phone.

  For him, the struggle with his mother started at age ten when he started to exert independence by refusing to take dance lessons. “Yoon, you must take dance lessons,” his mother had crooned... “Before I die, Yoon, I must know you are gracefully inclined so that you can guide your bride—my future daughter-in-law—across the dance floor. I would be a bad mother if you don’t do this.” Yoon had taken three years of dance classes.

  When he quit and played soccer instead, being athletic wasn’t good enough for his mother. Her son needed to be musically inclined and once again she cried...“Before I die, Yoon, I must know you are musically inclined so that you can serenade your future bride—my future daughter-in-law—like the handsome actors play the piano and sing in the dramas. Do you want my future daughter’s parents to think I’m a bad mother? Hey?” Yoon took five years of piano lessons because he actually liked it and still played the piano to relax.

  This line of argument with his mother ended with him learning English and Japanese fluently, and obtaining the status of a licensed chef, which he never had any intentions of using.

  Yoon felt smothered and pressured into a perfection he felt he could never obtain for this “future bride” he couldn’t imagine marrying. During his childhood all he thought about was relocating to America. He worked twice as hard to get out of school as quickly as possible and graduated early with honors.

  He had been prepared to go straight from secondary school to college in America but the thought of him being that far from home caused his mother to worry herself physically ill. His father convinced him to attend his alma mater, Seoul National University, instead.

  Afterwards, Yoon insisted on following his own dreams and like his Korean entrepreneur hero, Chung Mong Joon, he attended MIT Sloan School of Management and the Paul H. Nitze School of Advanced International Studies in Washington, D.C. for his Ph.D.

  Yoon returned to South Korea, met and married the girl his parents chose for him and had never been so miserable in his entire life. He was restless and unhappy, working late into the night and leaving early in the morning. His bride divorced him after three years of a loveless marriage. His parents had been very disappointed in him.

  He moved to America and for once his mother didn’t try to stop him.

  Yoon swore he would never marry and make another woman as miserable as he had made his first wife. It was the only thing he failed at. As he thought about it now—while missing half of what his dinner date was saying across the table from him—why hadn’t he tried to save his marriage?

  Why hadn’t he used the dance, piano and cooking lessons he had taken to “romance” his wife into remaining with him? Instead, after all those years of being a complacent son, he did the one thing he never wanted to do. He shamed his father’s name and broke his mother’s heart. No one had divorced in the Young family for over six centuries.

  All those lessons went to waste because he sucked at relationships. However, he was flawless when it came to business and therefore immersed himself into regaining his parent’s approval once more with hard work and undisputed success in the international world of business.

  He started by taking struggling small businesses from South Korea, accumulating investors and expanding them; then plopping them down into the United States offering services that only they could supply and vice versa with failing American businesses by opening the Asian market to them. Yoon also did the same with trade agreements to several other countries. Everyone had benefited, especially him.

  Years passed and he watched them grow into huge conglomerates, garnering him outrageous finder fees and making him an obscenely wealthy man at an early enough age to enjoy his success. With the success he had also become a preverbal workaholic. It was better than going home to an empty high-rise apartment.

  Yoon’s corporate headquarters was in Washington D.C. and he now held dual citizenships.

  The one thing he never thought would happen were his parents eventually relocating to America also.

  His father was appointed as the South Korean ambassador to the United States and once again he was close enough for his mother to interfere in his personal life. He felt like he was a child again. He imagined it was his guilt with failing at the marriage she groomed him for as a boy that made him accept dinner dates like the one he was on right now.

  Yoon released an inward sigh. His fingers tapped out a beat to the song he had on replay in his automobile.

  He blinked away the memories of his life as he sat with his dinner companion, Leslie Lee, the youngest daughter of his father’s schoolmate and business partner. The last time he’d seen her was during a barbecue in her parents’ back yard. It was during the summer of his second year at college. She was as tall as his hip, with ears out to “there” and braces on her teeth. There were no signs of that quiet homely little girl anymore.

  “Excuse me,” Leslie smiled at him. “I need to go to the ladies room.”

  He stood as she left the table, briefly glancing at the occupants in the booth next to him long enough to notice it was a Black couple. He returned to his seat. His back was resting against the adjoining booth the Black woman occupied.

  Yoon was relieved by the reprieve from Leslie’s animated chatter. Her brief exit would give him an excuse to wrap the night up early by saying he had an early business meeting without offending the daughter of a close family friend.

  His mother would be pleased to hear he took consideration of Leslie’s feelings once he informed her that he wasn’t interested in Leslie and her interfering in his love life was over.

  “How can you ask such a thing? We hardly know one another,” the woman sitting behind him hissed at her companion in hushed tones.

  Yoon’s voyeuristic nature to watch and pay attention to people was a skill he found useful in business and hearing the woman’s voice directly behind him immediately caught his attention. Even in her angry tone, it was a nice sultry throaty voice without the nasal indentation he’d spent the last two hours experiencing this evening.

  “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my mother’s need to interfere,” she continued.

  Yoon could relate to that statement. He nosily tilted his head to eavesdrop more. At least this was interesting, but unfortunately for him the conversation was one sided for he couldn’t hear what the other person said. The voice was deep enough to determine it was male, but the low murmur was lost to his listening ears.

  “Hell no, I’m not going to have sex with you! Are you crazy? We just met! What exactly did my mother say to you about tonight?”

  Ah, that explains her tone. Yoon thought with amusement. What a loser. The man didn’t even wait until they made it back to the car to proposition the woman.

  “My mother told me you were a preacher. Ha! You guys got to be the worst,” the woman spoke bitterly. “Pay the bill and take me home.”

  Yoon still couldn’t make out her date’s reply, but it obviously wasn’t in her favor.

  “Wait a minute! Who’s going to pay the bill?! You ordered a hundred dollar bottle of wine that I didn’t even drink.”

 
; “Guess you should have thought about that before you turned me down.”

  The man stood as he spoke and Yoon had no problems hearing what he said that time. He stared after the suited Black man as he rushed past his table and out of the restaurant.

  “Damn! I should have waited until after he paid the bill.” He heard her mutter. “What am I going to do now?”

  “Excuse me; Miss, would you and your guest like to see the dessert menu?” Yoon heard the server. “The gentleman is...”

  “No, we’re fine. He...he’s in the restroom,” she spoke quietly and surprisingly calm Yoon thought considering her current circumstance.

  “I see,” the server replied. “Would you like me to bring you your bill?”

  “I...uh...well, you see--”

  Yoon cleared his throat and held up his hand to motion the server over. The server muttered a polite “excuse me” to the woman and within a couple of steps stood next to Yoon’s usual booth and table.

  “Are you finding everything to your liking this evening, Mr. Young?”

  “Exceptional service as usual Tony,” Yoon smiled at the attentive man. “Even the silverware was polished to perfection. Tell Luciano I am quite pleased as usual.”

  “I will do so, Mr. Young,” the server preened. “Would you and your guest like another after dinner espresso?”

  “Thank you, no. I’m ready to settle my account, please.”

  Yoon’s eyes drifted towards the Black woman quietly tiptoeing behind the server.

  “I will get that bill for you right away, Mr. Young,” he nodded.

  “Excuse me miss,” the already suspicious of her server said. “I will get your bill ready also.”

  “Oh...okay, my date should be back to the table any minute now. Excuse me,” the woman stammered. “Excuse me; I need to go to the ladies room to freshen up.”

  “Of course,” the server commented.

  Yoon glanced up at the agitated woman as she hurried forward making her way towards the restaurant’s entrance where the restrooms were located also.

  He swallowed. Fascinated, he watched the swishing of the Black woman’s bottom as his gaze followed her graceful movements in what looked to be a pair of expensive designer heels. Yoon wasn’t a connoisseur of female fashion but he would bet she didn’t find that smartly fitted navy pantsuit off the rack at the local Wal-Mart. Surely if she could afford that getup, she could pay for the meal her date stiffed her with. Maybe it was a matter of principle. No, if she was making a mad dash for the door to stiff the restaurant with the cost of the meal, then she had no sense of principle, he thought grimly.

  That would be a bad move on her part. This wasn’t the type of restaurant one could eat and run out of so easily. As if proving the point, when the woman left to exit, she was politely blocked by the doorman who with a smile directed her to the door marked “Ladies.”

  Hurriedly she rushed inside and Yoon knew she was trapped because they were on to her. If she tries to do anything foolish now, she would most assuredly find herself in a holding cell downtown for the rest of the night. At least she would never have to worry about her mother setting her up with that man again.

  Unfortunately, he thought—standing as his date returned to the table and waiting for her to take her seat before he sat back down—he wouldn’t be so fortunate for his date to want sex so he could tell her “no” and watch her storm out of the restaurant, allowing him to tell his mother she was as unacceptable as the rest of the women she’d set him up with.

  “I really have enjoyed this evening,” Leslie Lee spoke softly as the server returned with the dinner ticket.

  “Thank you,” he murmured to the server, sliding his platinum card in the clear slot of the leather holder housing the bill.”

  The server disappeared again.

  He could have paid with cash but he was trying to buy a little more time. His curiosity had the best of him. The Black woman had yet to exit the bathroom. He wondered if she was in there fretting. Maybe she was making a call on her cell phone in the bathroom for backup resources. Either way he didn’t know why he had made it his business.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed the evening,” Yoon absently replied to his dinner companion.

  “I must insist that next time you allow me to choose the place and treat you to dinner. As a matter-of-fact, my parents have a private orchestra box for the season. I would be delighted if you and your parents would join us.”

  His eyes drifted back to his mother’s latest choice of “future daughter-in-law” and kept his face void of the agitation he was feeling. Yoon knew what that meant.

  To accept her offer for another outing that included their parents would indicate he was in agreement of a future match between them that could lead to an offer of marriage. He overplayed the friendly card with her and now she believed him interested.

  She took another demure sip of the chilled desert coffee. Leslie was attractive. She had wealth, a good family name, prestige, breeding and a traditional Korean upbringing. His mother would be overwhelmingly pleased if he were to call her this evening and tell her that Miss Lee was the one.

  Only Yoon couldn’t do it. At this time in his life, he didn’t know if he would ever be able to please his parents by settling down with a woman of their choosing. His first marriage had been for the sake of the family business and she divorced him because he simply never fell in love with her. When they rehashed their marriage, he still can’t understand why it mattered if he loved her or not because they got along so well as a couple. It mattered a lot to his ex-wife.

  He’d become adjusted to sleeping and living alone. He no longer had to dread going home to face aloofness or indifference staring at him from across the table.

  Addressing Leslie, Yoon said, “I must apologize for my mother taking advantage of our fathers’ relationship, Miss Lee, by asking you to meet me for dinner.” His lips curved into a slight smile.

  She smiled demurely. “No need to apologize. In all honesty, I was wondering when you would finally arrange for us to meet to discuss our future marriage.”

  “There has been a grave error and again I apologize for any misunderstandings my mother led you to believe about this evening; but I’m not here as part of a Seons.”

  “Oh?” The Asian woman’s perfectly penciled eyebrows lifted almost to her hairline in question. “I don’t understand.”

  Yoon allowed his discomfort to show, “I’m already engaged,” he lied smoothly while convincing himself it was for her own good. “However, I have not told my parents about my chosen bride yet.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Leslie,” Yoon’s voice deepened in feigned sincerity. “I have fallen in love with a woman that I’m sure my mother will disapprove of. As a matter of fact, I told her about this meeting and she insisted on coming here, but I asked her to give us time to eat dinner before I tell you the truth.”

  For a moment she stared blankly at him, unblinking. “I...I don’t quite know what to say. This must be embarrassing for you having me show up this way with expectations that we are to be married.”

  He admired her calm rationality and felt relieved she didn’t seem to be the type to make a scene like the woman that had sat behind him during dinner.

  “I’m only embarrassed that my mother is being so persistent,” he flashed a timid half smile. “I’m also embarrassed for asking you to not say anything to my mother if she were to call you this evening to ask how things went.”

  “I won’t lie to your mother, Young Yoon.” Leslie Lee’s relaxed pose became tense. “If you are going to dishonor your family, I will go with you to explain why.”

  “Err...well, I will do so but I don’t want you there, Leslie,” Yoon murmured. “Nor is this your secret to tell.” Standing, he moved to the outside of the booth preparing to speak with the Black woman before she made a mistake that could land her in jail.

  “I want to meet her,” Leslie surprised Yoon by saying.

  “Pard
on me?”

  “Our families are close friends. Begin by introducing her to me first,” Leslie replied.

  “I think it would make her uncomfortable considering you came here expecting to leave with some marriage agreement between us.”

  “If she is to marry you, we will be running into each other from time to time. If I like her, I will become your ally when you go up against your parents,” Leslie reasoned with a serene smile.

  Yoon knew she was calling his bluff and if he didn’t produce a fiancée real quick, he was screwed.

  Maybe being with her would prove entertaining after all. He silently surmised. However, if there was one thing Yoon didn’t like, it was being manipulated and he was beginning to believe he was the one who had been played. Leslie Lee wasn’t the demure socialite she had led him to believe.

  Yoon’s eyes drifted to the restaurant entrance and saw the ladies room door crack open and the woman that was trying to ditch her bill peep her head outside the door. Her hair was a shimmering auburn and too rich not to have come from a bottle. It swung about her shoulders with silken strands clinging to her fitted blazer as her head pivoted from side to side scoping out the traffic of people in the area.

  She made an agitated face and ducked back into the washroom as the maître’d gave her a haughty knowing stare. He found the animation of her character humorous and as if by divine intervention, the most delicious idea entered his head.

  “Leslie, please tell the server to wait right here when he returns with my credit card; there is something else I need him to take care of,” Yoon requested.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To see if my fiancée has arrived yet,” he stared her in the eyes. “You did say you wanted to meet her. Have you changed your mind?”

  Yoon noticed the woman had emerged from the ladies room blending into a crowd of people leaving the bar area of the restaurant. He rushed forward in heavy pursuit.

  As he dashed through the revolving door, the lingering effects of winter hung in the evening air and he shivered from the back draft as it ruffled his tailored black dinner jacket and blew the swoop of blue-black hair off his broad brow.