One
Jihae Park nodded even though she couldn’t hear a word Rotelle Logistics’s CEO and CFO were saying over the din of the helicopter. The two men were fighting to put an arm over her shoulders to lead her away from the gales blowing from the propellers. Ultimately, they both grabbed a shoulder each and rushed her into the building.
She huffed impatiently as the two men continued to fight for her attention. Her father’s people behaved so ridiculously around her. What would they do in the presence of the almighty Chairman Park? They would probably freeze and pop out an egg. Or they would throw out their backs, bowing so low that their noses bumped their knees. The second option was a definite possibility, but the first one was so much more amusing to imagine.
In Los Angeles, she was more than the daughter of Rotelle Corporation’s chairman. She was the hardworking and competent vice president of Rotelle Entertainment, and was respected by her employees. She wasn’t just the chairman’s daughter.
She exhaled and drew back her shoulders. She shouldn’t get herself worked up. It wasn’t worth it. She was probably jet-lagged from her flight to New York last night, and the helicopter ride to New Jersey had been a bit bumpy.
“It’s a tremendous honor to have you with us, Vice President.” The CEO spoke in Korean once they were inside, bowing ninety degrees at the waist. Well, what a nob. The bowing was fine, but the CFO, a US native, clearly didn’t speak Korean.
“I’m glad to be here,” Jihae replied in English, giving Mr. CEO a pointed look.
She generally didn’t mind these visits to various subsidiaries of Rotelle Corporation. It gave her a chance to show them that their contributions mattered. What she did mind was the fact it took time away from her work at Rotelle Entertainment. Luckily, she had competent employees who could cover for her during her trip.
But her father might not be as fortunate with Mr. CEO. He’d been transferred to the New Jersey office from Korea and would sit as the CEO of Rotelle Logistics as long as he remained in her father’s good graces. Unfortunately for him, her father couldn’t care less about Jihae or her opinions, so the ass-kissing was wasted on her.
Rotelle Corporation had been founded by her great-great-grandfather soon after the Korean War. Its revenue, reputation and political power had grown exponentially until it had become what it was now—one of the biggest conglomerates in Korea with businesses in various industries including food, pharmaceutics, biotechnology, entertainment, media and logistics. She probably missed one there. Yes. Home shopping. She didn’t know why she kept leaving that one out.
“Would you be amenable to a quick tour of our office, Miss Park?” Mr. CFO bowed repeatedly to her with prayer hands like a Buddhist monk.
Why do people do that? Jihae wasn’t even certain where the custom originated. Did it belong to a country or a religion? She’d only seen the prayer-hands-and-bow thing during yoga and at Buddhist monasteries. When people randomly bowed to her that way, she felt mildly confused and quite offended by the caricature of Korea’s culture of bowing at the waist, which was a show of respect used to greet others or to thank them. And it didn’t involve bowing ten times at once like an unhinged marionette.
With a resigned sigh, Jihae smoothed her hands over her pristine white suit and schooled her expression into a polite smile. The two men were irritating her to an inch of her life, but there was no need to let on.
She survived the office tour led by the two bickering executives and ate an overpriced meal that didn’t come close to filling her up. After acknowledging their hard work and their important contributions to Rotelle Corporation, she bid them farewell.
Despite her assurances that she could find her way back to the roof without assistance, both the CEO and CFO followed her up to say their goodbyes. The CFO repeated his frantic bowing and the CEO held his ninety-degree bow the entire time it took her to board the helicopter. Once the helicopter took flight, they switched to waving so enthusiastically that their hands blurred. They soon disappeared from sight.
Jihae sighed and settled back in her seat, relieved to be finished with her latest heiress duties. The flight back to her hotel in New York City wasn’t long, but she had a hard time staying awake. The remarkable view that revealed itself as they approached the city saved her from falling asleep, and possibly drooling, in the pilot’s presence. That would’ve been very unheiress like.
The helicopter came to a smooth landing on the hotel roof, and Jihae rushed to the privacy of her room. By the time she let herself inside the presidential suite, she was exhausted and starved. After kicking off her snake-print stilettos, she made a beeline for the hotel phone.
“Yes, Miss Park.” Her butler picked up on the first ring.
“Could you send up a double cheeseburger with extra jalapeños, some curly fries and three bottles of ice-cold lager?”
“Do you have a preference for a specific brand of lager?” he asked with his usual fake not-so-British accent.
Jihae had lived in the UK for close to a decade and it was obvious her butler never had. But she would never burst his bubble. If he got a kick out of using a British accent on the job, then by all means, why not let him speak with a fake accent?
“Anything local is fine. Surprise me.”
She hung up the phone and took stock of her evening. Her schedule was gloriously empty. Since she didn’t need to leave her suite until tomorrow morning, she headed for the bathroom for a proper hot soak. The food wouldn’t arrive for at least thirty minutes, and she was dying to scrub off her makeup and let her hair down. Literally.
Princess Jihae, as the Korean media called her, hadn’t been born into this world. She’d been meticulously created by the Park family’s PR specialist and stylists when the real Jihae was about seventeen. Her parents needed a persona worthy of being a part of their pseudoroyal family—the almighty jaebul. She had preferred the prior seventeen years of neglect by them compared to the constant reminders of her responsibilities to her family and the importance of maintaining a perfect image.
By then, she’d already been tall, close to her current five foot eight. They couldn’t work the lovely, delicate-flower image on her, so the team decided she would be presented to the world as the picture of aloof elegance. Other than when she was home, Princess Jihae always wore her hair up in chignons, buns or elaborate updos befitting the occasion. And her entire wardrobe consisted of finely cut clothes in various shades of white—all selected by her stylist during the private shows that fashion designers hosted for her family. She’d fought tooth and nail for her right to choose her own shoes as long as they were appropriately upscale.
People probably thought she wore a billowy white nightgown with a chignon to bed. Ha! She plopped down on the couch in her French terry joggers and a baggy T-shirt, and draped one leg over the arm of the sofa. Tonight, she was dressed from head to toe in pink. Unsurprisingly, her home-alone clothes were the colors of the rainbow. And her hair was falling freely over her shoulders, brushed but damp.