Ji-pyeong had once claimed no one cared about him. By the end of Saturday night, Kim Mi-rae knew that was no longer true. She did. On Sunday morning, Mi-rae could not stop thinking about how his mouth had drawn into a sad straight line when asked about his birthday. Or how he was probably alone in a hotel room wondering why her actions did not match her words. Her heart could not bear false witness even if she did not yet know how to confess it. It was not a plan so much as allowing herself to walk down a path unsure of where it would lead.
It led to that place — the place bursting with green, purple, and the truth. Ji-pyeong stood there like the eye in a hurricane of their own making and told her that he felt the same. That he would be there no matter what. He patiently listened to every doubt. He offered only his heart without glib answers. And the scars on her own had yielded. She believed him. Suddenly the problem was turned on its head: how could she walk away from such a man who felt as she did and call that the "right" choice?
Mi-rae closed her eyes as his voice filled the soundstage. She was back there. With him. His lips on her lips, his hands on her body. She had lost herself in his arms and he had surrendered to her in return. Mi-rae opened her eyes and stared at his lush lips as they formed words that now sounded very far away. She began to imagine what else they were capable of. Then her eyes immediately sought refuge in her suede heels.
When Mi-rae had emerged from the other side of that place, she felt like the opposite of being reckless. Ji-pyeong held her hand firmly and immediately began managing risk with a fierce focus on optics and her professional reputation. Together they set the parameters of how they would comport themselves in public and in communications over the next several weeks until the deal was closed. As she listened to him leave no detail to chance, Mi-rae felt a strange sense of calm. Despite the frenzied promise of what they could be together a few moments before, Ji-pyeong did not ask her back to his hotel. Instead, he squeezed her hand and hailed a cab so that she could attend her scheduled calls. He was a man behaving as if this was all for a future that needed to be protected. Mi-rae loved him all the more for it.
And then Monday happened.
The CEO of GenOne, Erskin Dusk, went on a characteristic attention seeking tirade on Twitter complaining that Minerva and SH Venture Capital were dragging their feet on their due diligence. He publicly demanded a truncated time table to closure. That in turn set off a social media debate about the revolutionary potential of the two companies combining forces. Everyone from casual observers to industry experts debated the ethics of direct marketing based on previous genetic testing. By Tuesday, the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times ran stories on the merger featuring Han Ji-pyeong as the charismatic focal point. The narrative of an orphan turned visionary investor proved an enticingly easier angle than actually digging into the intricacies of a complex merger and acquisition. The deal team had barely gotten three hours of sleep a night ever since.
It left little time for Mi-rae and Ji-pyeong to explore what they now were since Sunday. Instead, they had spent the week side by side managing the public strategic maneuvering of the merger while trying to keep their internal due diligence on track. Mi-rae was grateful to have such a partner by her side. Ji-pyeong was as steady and deliberate in a professional crisis as he was at the park. Even if she did now have to manage being in the same room with him knowing that he could kiss like that.
Chris nudged her arm.
"That was a good answer don't you think? Although I'm sure it's going to drive Dusk crazy. I'm really starting to hate that guy."
Mi-rae blinked rapidly and forced herself to focus.
"Yeah I really don't like how he operates. It's making counsel for Minerva very nervous and I don't blame them."
Chapter Eight
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