Secret Crush Seduction, page 2
“I can’t imagine your grandmother being that small-minded. There has to be another reason, but you know her better than me. Besides, if that’s what you think, there’s an easy fix.” His arms still encircled her waist, and he was drawing slow circles on her lower back. When his brain registered what his hand was doing, he coughed and dropped his arms.
Adelaide arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms. He didn’t know if it was because she was waiting to hear his suggestion or because of his hurried step away from her. “Tell me more about this easy fix.”
His mind went blank. Her crossed arms had the effect of a bustier, pulling her breasts close and lifting them high. The sexy-as-hell scene at the club must have short-circuited his brain. He beat away his heightened awareness and focused on the shadowy outlines of the plan that had formed in his head.
“You majored in fashion design, right?”
“Along with sociology. And I have an MBA.”
“Even better.” Michael rubbed his hands together. “Hansol’s Corporate Social Responsibility Department has funds to support various charities. I think you should pitch a big-scale charity event, and show your grandmother and the world that you have what it takes to plan and execute it.”
“You’re right. There are a million things I could do.” Her face lit up with excitement. “Where do I start?”
“With the CSR Department. They’re the ones you need to convince to sign off on your proposal.”
A slow smile curved her lips, then she launched herself at him with a giddy laugh. His heart sang with her happiness, and he lifted her off her feet and hugged her tight. Dizzy and breathless from her nearness, Michael forced himself to set her down. Before he could gather his scattered wits, Adelaide reached up and placed a lingering kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you, Michael.” Her wide eyes were bright and welcoming, and he had to muster every last ounce of willpower not to kiss her upturned face. He needed to nip whatever this was in the bud.
“Sure thing, kiddo.” He slid the back of his index finger down her perfect nose—something he’d done since she was a little girl.
Adelaide jerked back and shoved his hand away, her eyes burning with resentment. Regret washed over him. She hated being treated like a child, and he hated himself for using her vulnerability to push her away. He was desperate, but he should’ve found a better way to distance himself.
As expected, Adelaide pivoted on her heels and walked off without a word. Even the back of her head looked furious with him.
Two
Adelaide’s annoyance with Michael cooled off as she drove home, her thoughts meandering down way-back-when lane. She’d fallen in love with Michael Reynolds when she still pronounced her r’s as w’s. He was her brother Garrett’s best friend and she’d worshipped the two of them. After an especially spectacular day of playing pirates, she’d asked her big brother to marry her. He’d gently reminded her they couldn’t get married since they were brother and sister. Naturally, she had to marry Michael, instead. At the tender age of four, she’d been too shy to ask him, but she’d vowed to propose to him when she grew up.
It was a good thing she got over her infatuation with him. Otherwise, she would’ve grown ancient waiting for him to realize she was a grown woman when he could think of her only as a “kiddo.” Besides, he had broken her heart when he married someone else during her senior year in high school.
Adelaide used to be a bigmouthed teenager with zero dating experience, but from all her talk and posturing, her friends thought she was a sex guru. At age seventeen, she hadn’t even kissed a boy. She’d guarded all her firsts for Michael because she already belonged to him. Or so her silly mind had thought. With him away in la-la land with his wife, Adelaide had made up for lost time. By the end of her senior year, she’d efficiently checked off all the firsts on her list.
After his divorce, Michael reclaimed his role as the Song family’s only blond member, but things hadn’t been the same between them. He maintained his stupid, goofy demeanor, but a light seemed to have gone out of him. When she came home from college, she tried to talk to him and draw him out. But all that got her was a wall of indifference and ever-growing distance.
She understood what she’d felt for him was a childhood crush. A long-term infatuation. The past didn’t matter anymore. All she wanted was her friend and confidant back, but Michael had shut her out so completely they were no better than casual acquaintances. The loss of their friendship hurt more than watching him marry someone who wasn’t her.
Adelaide growled in frustration and leaned hard on the gas, passing a car with less than a foot to spare. The blaring horn brought some sense back into her. The moral of the day was to prove to the world that she wasn’t juvenile. She was off to a bleak start.
If she wanted to be taken seriously, she had to prove to her grandmother that she was born to lead Hansol just like her brother. Garrett was the business mastermind, but Adelaide had the creativity Hansol needed to reach the next level through innovative apparel.
Michael had made a good point before frustrating her out of her mind with the kiddo bullcrap. With her background in fashion design and sociology, and a mint-condition MBA, she could produce a charity event that would have the guests rushing the stage crying, Please, take my money!
Adelaide stopped at a red light and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. This was ridiculous. Why do I have to prove myself? They practically dragged Garrett into the company as soon as he finished his MBA degree. She’d finished hers two years ago with better grades than her brother, but no one had come begging for her presence at Hansol. She puffed up her cheeks and blew out a long breath.
Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that her big brother had interned at Hansol and learned the ropes every summer since his freshman year in college. She, on the other hand, had partied like it was 1969 and barely passed her classes. But how could they punish her for her reckless youth for all these years? It was completely unfair, but that was life. She would prove herself to the world and get on with her dreams.
What am I good at? No, that wasn’t the right question to ask first. What do I care most about?
Her college roommate and best friend, Kate immediately came to mind.
Kate had a younger brother on the autism spectrum. Adelaide spent a lot of time with Kate and her family, who lived locally, and became good friends with her younger brother. Stu was an amazing person with too many incredible talents to count and a wicked sense of humor. But being a person with autism, he had a penchant for social faux-pas.
Stu was teased and bullied at school much too often. The saddest part was he didn’t understand when his classmates were being cruel to him. One time his so-called best friend, Ken, told him he didn’t want to hang out with him anymore. Stu assumed he meant just for that particular day, so he continued seeking his friend out every day. Even when he got the cold shoulder again and again, Stu made excuses for Ken, saying he must’ve been tired or he must’ve had a bad day. And he always found his best friend, and talked to him as if the day before hadn’t happened. Eventually Ken made it crystal clear to Stu that he meant forever. You are not my friend anymore. I can’t stand seeing your stupid face every day. Stay away from me!
Stu had told Kate and Adelaide about what happened in his most casual voice. Without anger or sorrow. He didn’t understand his heart was broken. But slowly he withdrew into himself, confused and scared. It took him months to find his peace. Months of no art or music. Months of no laughter.
If only they could’ve kept him away from the unkind world. Locked him away in a cocoon of love and support, where the outside couldn’t intrude. But that would have been unfair to Stu and the world, because he was meant to do great things with his life. He was meant to make the world a better place. Adelaide never doubted that. He was that amazing.
It tore at Adelaide’s heart to know that people with autism were misunderstood and made fun of for their quirks and challenges. Most people laughing and yelling at them didn’t even realize they had autism. Even if they knew, they didn’t understand what autism spectrum disorder really was.
Maybe she could use her charity event to raise autism awareness. Her pulse doubled in speed as excitement coursed through her. Adelaide Song was ready to change the world. The next question was how?
What were her strengths? Fashion. People. Finance. And thanks to her wild days, she knew what a good party should look like. An idea began forming in her head, glimmering like a mirage. She thought back to how she’d taken a course in college on designing clothing for people with special needs. What if she staged an exclusive fashion show featuring fashion-forward, sensory-friendly clothing—from tagless, flat-seamed suits and cocktail dresses to formal wear that people with autism could be comfortable in? There was no reason Stu and others like him shouldn’t be able to dress with amazing creative flair. They should also have formal wear for special events. They deserved options beyond black sweatpants and black tennis shoes.
Adelaide bounced in her seat, too pumped up to stay still.
She wanted to design some of the clothes, but she would also have an open contest at local colleges where students could submit their ideas. Maybe the winner could get a summer internship at Hansol.
Adelaide couldn’t hold back her squeal. Oh, my God. She could do this.
She turned into the driveway of the Songs’ Pacific Palisades home, and parked her car near the front door. Liliana, their housekeeper, was going to give her a tongue-lashing tomorrow for blocking the road, but Adelaide was low on battery without a charger to plug herself into. When she dragged herself to her room, she brushed her teeth and splashed some water on her face. No seven-step Korean skin care for her tonight. She snuggled under her soft comforter and buried her face against her puffy cloud of a pillow.
Adelaide wanted to ride her elation and dream sparkly dreams, but the ambitious, practical side of her brain refused to shut up. The big picture was there, but it would be useless without the proper execution. She had to create the hype, connect with the big-name donors. She needed someone with a solid reputation and the right connections to help execute the event.
Her palms grew damp with sweat and she gnawed on her bottom lip, suddenly wide-awake. She knew the perfect person for the job. The problem was he’d never agree to work with her. Despite what he’d said to her, he was no different from her family and treated her like an overgrown child.
Besides, he didn’t want to be near her if at all possible. When they spent time together at family gatherings or social functions, he barely acknowledged her. More often than not, he went out of his way to avoid her altogether. No matter what nice brotherly things he’d said earlier tonight, he still thought of her as a lost cause.
A flash of hurt cut a bright red line across her heart. What was so wrong with her? She bit down hard on her lip and tasted blood, hoping the pain would shock her insecurities out of her. The emotional lashings she’d received that day rolled through her, and hot tears stung her eyes.
Michael wouldn’t want to be personally involved in her project. But that only meant Adelaide shouldn’t give him a chance to refuse. He was going to help her pull off this event, and she would convince him, her grandmother and the world that she wasn’t a spoiled, good-for-nothing heiress once and for all.
* * *
Hey, Michael.
It was a text from Adelaide. This was the first time he’d heard from her since she’d walked away from him at the nightclub parking lot. His heart vibrated like a gong that had been rung with too much enthusiasm. Which was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. He’d just been worried about her. That’s all.
Hey. He cringed at his lame reply and stared intently at the skipping ellipses on his screen.
Grandmother wants to invite you to dinner.
“Invite” me?
LOL. Don’t be silly. I was just being diplomatic. You’ve been summoned to the Song residence for dinner.
He grinned broadly. Failure to comply would result in terrifying consequences. He had no clue as to what Machiavellian punishments Grace Song would bestow, but the fear of not knowing was probably worse.
I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
You’re such a chicken. ^__^
No, I’m a smart man with finely tuned survival instincts.
He shook with quiet laughter. Villainizing Mrs. Song used to be his and Garrett’s favorite game. They’d come up with one ludicrous scenario after another that would lead to Mrs. Song’s horrifying punishments. Adelaide had never liked that game. She would eventually burst into tears because they were making fun of her grandma. For him and Garrett, it was a way to cope with the woman’s larger-than-life persona—like drawing a mustache on a dictator’s portrait. Adelaide, who saw everyone in their best light, didn’t understand why they were intimidated by her hal-muh-nee.
Whatever. We’ll see you at 19:00 sharp. Pro Tip: She’s been into macarons lately.
Not the matcha jelly roll cake?
She’s so over that.
Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll stop by Bottega Louie on my way over.
Michael’s unease with the Song family matriarch had melted away with time and maturity. She now had his unadulterated respect and gratitude. He respected her for her work ethic, her vision and her sacrifices. He was grateful to her for being there for him when he had no one else. His parents went through a nasty divorce when he was eleven, and he couldn’t bear to be home with them. Mrs. Song had accepted him into her home and her quiet support had meant more to him than anyone else’s stilted reassurances.
When he found himself lost again, he’d gone to her because he trusted her implicitly. She was the only person who knew the real reason his marriage had fallen apart. As always, she’d been pragmatic and inspiring. She understood loss and pain. She knew what it took to survive. He’d never felt whole since then but knew he was worth something, thanks to her. He could still contribute to the world and make a difference, even if a wife and children were only pipe dreams to him.
Michael wrapped up work early so he could pick up the macarons. Fifteen minutes later, he left the bakery and walked to his car with a smile on his face and a precariously high macaron tower in his arms. He managed not to topple the thing and placed it carefully on the passenger seat floor. After slowly backing out of his parking spot, he drove toward Pacific Palisades never going past the speed limit. Although his body urged him to drive faster, he couldn’t risk tipping over the tower, which he felt a little foolish for buying now that it sat swaying on the floor of his car.
When he finally pulled into the Songs’ driveway, he parked off to the side in his usual spot. Juggling the vibrant pink, cream and sage tower in his arms, he rang the front door with his elbow.
The door to the Song residence opened before the echoes of the doorbell died out. “Michael, it’s been so long.”
“Hello, Liliana.” He leaned into the older woman’s hug, holding the ridiculous macaron concoction to the side. “It’s only been a couple months.”
The Song household wouldn’t be complete without their housekeeper, Liliana. Warm, sweet and omniscient, she knew the Songs inside and out, and cared for them with fierce loyalty. At the moment, she was eyeing the macaron tower with both brows raised high.
“It’s... Like you said, it’s been a while, so I thought I should bring something nice. For Mrs. Song. And Mr. Song. And you, too, of course.”
“Miss Adelaide likes macarons, too, you know,” she said with a wide grin.
“Yes. Of course, I know. She... It’s for her, too. It’s for all of you.” Goddammit. He was tripping all over himself, and he didn’t know what the hell Liliana was getting at. Irritated with himself, he handed over the macarons. “Please hold it for a second while I take my shoes off.”
“Before you ask, I don’t know why they’ve invited you over so suddenly,” she whispered, taking the tower from him. “All I know is that Adelaide is a nervous wreck.”
Michael’s eyebrows rose into his hairline. “Adelaide?”
“Like I said, I don’t know. But it’s something big.” When he straightened and took the tower off her hands, she leaned close and said, “Adelaide made dinner.”
Adelaide cooked two days a year, and two days only. Thanksgiving and New Year’s. She was a fantastic cook, and everyone looked forward to those two magical days, but she didn’t step inside the kitchen at any other time.
She was definitely up to something, and he might be one of her targets. Once she softened everyone up with dinner, she would make her move and shock the hell out of them. It made no difference, though. Michael was not going to turn down a dinner prepared by Adelaide.
“She’s in the kitchen.”
“I know the way.” With a grin, he strode down the hallway with sure-footed steps. He skidded to a stop at the kitchen entrance, nearly dropping his offering.
Blooding hell.
Adelaide had her back turned. She was in her cooking outfit. It wasn’t anything special, really. A tight black shirt and tighter black jeans with a pure white apron wrapped around her waist. But it was the outfit that had first made Michael realize she wasn’t a kid anymore.
It was about a year after his divorce, and she’d recently come home from college. They hadn’t seen each other in years, and the sight of Adelaide all grown up had stolen his breath. She barely topped five feet, but every inch of her was toned and supple, with gentle curves in all the right places. He’d lost count of all the tempting spots that would fit perfectly into his hands. That was years ago, but the memory of Adelaide in that moment superimposed on the Adelaide standing in front of him left him weak in the knees.
