My Summer In Seoul

by Rachel Van Dyken

Genres: Multicultural & Interracial Romance; New Adult Romance; Love Triangle; rockstar romance; New Adult romance; mental illness; pop culture; multicultural romance; Kpop Romance; band

Synopsis

From #1 New York Times bestselling author Rachel Van Dyken comes a standalone new adult romance set in the competitive world of K-pop.

It’s not all K-dramas and happily ever afters.

Intern with Korea’s number one record label? Yes, please. Find out there’s a huge scandal I need to help “manage” … not so much. Add in the fact that I don’t recognize the “superstars” of the label and think they’re interns …And my dream job quickly becomes more of a nightmare.

But I’m in Seoul, the one place that is beginning to feel more and more like home …Except it isn’t home, and the drama surrounding the biggest K-pop group in the world, SWT, is consuming my every moment. Spoiler alert. They hate me. Everything I do is wrong: wrong clothes, wrong honorifics, wrong manners. Till the leader of SWT takes pity on me.But pity is dangerous when it comes from someone as beautiful as him.

Every SWT member is gorgeous, perfect, and cultivated to be an idol … lethal to a girl’s heart.And sanity. But fame plus a perfect face and voice don’t equal an easy life. As their comeback nears, the stakes rise higher. Suicide watch …Angry fans …Threats …

All I want to do is survive. But the price for survival might mean losing my heart.And like a character in a K-drama, I’m not sure if there will be an actual happily ever after …Or simply a lesson learned.

Release date: December 14, 2021

Publisher: Van Dyken Enterprises INC

Print pages: 482

Content advisory: deals with real life issues including suicide, eating disorders, and death. These are not discussed graphically, but rather as part of the storyline.

Sample

Author Note

 

You hear authors talk about passion projects, projects that they do because they want to because if they don’t do them, a part of their soul feels like it’s dying—this was that project for me.

Back in 2019, I had this idea to do a K-pop book while sitting at Apollycon in DC. There were so many readers, and the vibe of the entire place was off the charts. And because I was a huge fan of K-pop already and had a friend constantly sending me music videos, I decided that our table needed to have a bit of BTS’ Mic Drop playing on repeat.

It was insane how many people would start dancing, singing, or how their nerves would just dissipate (let’s be honest, book signings in the romance community can be insanely nerve-wracking for both authors and readers, just another reason I love the romance community!).

I told my agent and a publisher that I was going to do it, I was going to write this book—after all, I’d written a ton of rockstar romances; how different could this be?

HAH! Well, I knew that idols had a lot of pressure and that the K-pop industry was vastly different, but the minute I dove in, I realized that I seriously had no clue, NO CLUE. It was hard to include all of those details in just one book, so fingers crossed I can do more!

This is also a passion project for me because I was told by several industry professionals that I couldn’t write it. Or that it wouldn’t sell. Or that it was too new. What genre did it even fit into? I’ve written diverse characters my entire career and have always been careful to research and use sensitivity readers no matter what, so I was a bit shocked. I had a few very key people tell me that if this story was in my soul, I needed to write it. If I listed all the people here, the list would be so long but thank you to everyone who reached out, who helped me, people from all over the world, from Korea to China, Africa, the States, Canada—this book would be nothing without your input. Truly.

Once COVID hit, I decided I would dive deep into K-pop that I’d spent nearly a year already attempting to write, little did I know that the pandemic would be ongoing and that I was forced to take some “free” time indoors and continue my research, and not just researching but watching YouTube videos (I swear my youngest probably knows Korean at this point). I even decided to start learning Korean and attempted to stick to a K-pop idol schedule to fully immerse myself—I didn’t last long, and as a parent, I am used to zero sleep! It was so much fun, and now I’m happy to announce that’s literally all my kids want to listen to. How amazing, right?

I’m so thankful for the experiences I had with this book, and I’m SO SO SO thankful to Seoul Street & Q4 Entertainment, along with Content Group, Will Yun Lee and Mark and Christine Holder, for believing in this story and adapting it for TV. You guys are amazing.

I hope you guys enjoy this book!

No, this experience ;)

K-pop Glossary

 

K-pop: Korean Pop (music)

 

Idols: The term for a Korean pop star or K-pop star.

 

Visual: The idol in the group with the best features and is also a main focus for their good looks. Think Jin from BTS or more recently in 2021 V, after 13 fancams reached over ten million views.

 

Trainee: Someone under a record label who is training to be an idol with others in an attempt to debut either on their own or typically with a group. This can include as little as a few months of dance training, singing with coaches from the label as they invest their money into you, or it can take years. Some people train for years and never debut. Think of it as a record label boot camp.

 

Maknae: Youngest of group.

 

Sasaeng: The fans who don't respect the idols' privacy—stalk them, put them in dangerous situations, and feel ownership over their idols' lives. Another one of the reasons idols don't date or are encouraged to hide dating is because of these "fans."

 

Netizens: Online commenters, keyboard warriors

 

Bias: Your crush.

 

Comeback: When an idol or musician releases new music and makes their “comeback” into the public eye with a new look, music video, tracks, mini album, or full album (collabs included)

 

Variety Show: Shows that idols perform on. It can be musical performances, acting, skits, an intro to them, competition, etc.

 

MV: Music Video

 

Showcase: Typically set for debut groups who don't have enough songs to do an entire concert, groups will pick up to five songs to perform. A newer group like SWT might also do this if they've only been releasing mini-albums and not a full-length one yet. For a good example of a Showcase, check out newer groups like Enhypen, Aespa, Treasure.

 

Part One

The Beginning.

Prologue

Naive: Having or showing a lack of experience, judgment, or information; Credulous. See Also: Grace Lee.

Grace

 

August 2020

 

I stared down the exact same gate that had brought me to Seoul three months ago.

Of course, it would be the same gate.

With exactly seventy-two uncomfortable blue chairs that I’d had the chance to count since I’d gotten to the airport three hours early.

I’d run away.

After the yelling.

After the fight.

After the tears, though some of them still lingered on my cheeks. It was no use wiping them away; more just managed to leak their way from my burning eyes down onto my blotchy skin.

Perfect country to cry in, someone almost always pointed out that you looked tired, or old, or just plain ugly when expressing any sort of emotion. Add that to the fact that I was tan—well, you can imagine the horrified looks I got.

I couldn’t bring myself to think about it, his hollow stare, the way he didn’t even flinch like he had no intention of coming after me despite his confession, and couldn’t fathom why I would even be upset after waking up to the chaos. To the looks on their faces.

I squeezed my eyes shut and rested my head on my hands as my elbows dug into my denim-clad thighs.

They weren’t coming.

Mainly him.

He wasn’t coming.

Stupid, that with all of the Korean dramas I’d been subjected to over the last few months, I still held out hope that he would appear at the airport, at the last minute, like the perfect hero expressing his undying love. We’d stare longingly into each other’s eyes for what would almost seem an uncomfortable amount of time, and then I would close my eyes, he would close his.

Fireworks.

True love.

Marriage.

Okay, maybe not marriage, but at least a declaration that what we’d shared was more than just a summer fling with a foreigner. Maybe that was what made my skin crawl—the fact that my insecurity caused me to wonder if the only reason he went after me was because I was different.

And he was famous.

I sucked the tears in. It caused a painful tightening in my throat like a golf ball that refused to progress through my esophagus; it had been there for hours and would probably continue to make its presence known the entire eleven-hour trip back to Seattle.

The airport was silent except for the few conversations taking place around me and the constant announcements over the PA system.

Ridiculous, how it used to annoy me, all the shrieks from girls.

Now? I would do anything in the world to hear the screaming.

Anything.

Because it would mean they were close.

My friends.

It would mean he was with them.

The love of my life.

Another hour went by.

And then two.

I waited longer than I should have.

I was just as pathetic as they’d said the day I got off the plane.

Just as naive.

Just as ignorant.

“Final call for Delta Flight 9011 nonstop to Seattle.” The cheerful voice made my heart pound in my chest while at the same time stealing the last breath of hope I had that I was something more than a fling or a publicity stunt. My legs were heavy as I stood, my tears hot as they slid one after another off my chin.

One step.

Two.

My hand shook as I flipped over my cell phone to scan my boarding pass with finality.

Over.

It was so over.

I lowered my head and whispered, “Goodbye.”

Chapter One

Decisions, Decisions

Grace

 

Three months prior

 

I never understood how sitting for eleven hours straight in an airplane could cause you to feel dirtier than if you just ran a full marathon and rolled around in mud for good measure.

My hands were sticky like I’d massacred a bag of gummy worms and licked my fingers just to make sure I got all the sugar.

My body felt bloated enough for me to wonder if they really did put something in airplane food to make sure people didn’t use the bathroom too often.

And my once-bouncy hair was pulled into a knot on the top of my head that would make any poor college student proud.

Eleven hours of hell.

And we were finally making our descent.

This wasn’t the plan.

At least not the original plan.

No, the original plan was to relax all summer, hang out with my friends, and soak in the last three months of freedom I had before I entered the workforce, and attempted to feed myself and pay bills without having a nervous breakdown.

My parents had been supportive of my “time off” decision until my dad got a random phone call from my uncle in Korea. The only thing I knew about Uncle Siu was that he was super high up in some music label and only called on holidays or birthdays. I’d seen him exactly twice in my entire life, and all I remember is wondering why he was always wearing a suit.

The phone call lasted an hour, and in that hour, my life—and my plan to chill for the summer with my friends—changed forever.

I’d spent weeks—okay, maybe months attempting to find an internship at all the local indie record companies. I would have sold my soul to hand out coffee and donuts just as long as I could learn the industry and get my foot in the door.

The only problem?

You had to know someone.

I had zero references except for professors that, let’s be honest, most likely every intern had, and no experience.

Ergo, I was going to take time off before applying at every Starbucks so that I wouldn’t end up homeless under one of Seattle’s notorious bridges. I could just envision myself begging for pennies near the monster bridge and shivering in my raincoat.

Not the life for me.

The phone call came out of nowhere.

My perfectly dressed uncle needed a summer intern and had remembered from previous conversations with my dad that I was majoring in music production with a minor in business. The rest was history. Besides, being an intern at a record label sounded like the exact opportunity I needed to get my foot in the door.

Within twenty-four hours, I was packing for South Korea instead of the beach.

I’d only ever been to Mexico, so going to a foreign country by myself wasn’t just stressing me out, it was making me sweat—obviously, since I was doing nothing except sitting on my rear while the plane hit the worst turbulence known to mankind.

I had a language app on my phone that seemed harder to understand than the language itself and a trusty book my mom was able to Prime from one of the Amazon warehouses that same day.

My mom tried practicing with me during packing, and the entire conversation had her paling by the minute.

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t go,” she said in a worried voice while I tried shoving another pair of Nikes into my giant suitcase. At the rate my suitcase was filling, they were going to think I was immigrating, not visiting—but a girl needed her shoes!

“Just.” Shove. “One.” Shove, shove. “Minute.” Ah! I plopped onto the suitcase and grinned. “Care to zip me?”

Mom looked just like me, with crystal blue eyes and blond hair, long tan legs that I used to think were gangly, and an open, wide smile that said more than words ever could. To be fair, my blond hair was fake while hers was real, and my eyes were brown, but still—we were nearly twins in every way that mattered.

With a sigh, she walked over and placed her hands on my legs. “I’m worried for you. You don’t know the language, you don’t know the customs—”

“That was an exaggeration, and you know the internet lies.” I pointed out. “Besides, I’ll make sure to always take my change with both hands, speak quietly, and act not so…” I spread my arms wide and shrugged. “…American.”

Her eyes took me in from head to toe. “You do realize you’re wearing a Seattle Seahawks sweatshirt and a Yankees hat, right?”

I grinned. “All I need is your trusty fanny pack, and I’ll be all set!”

She burst out laughing and then gave me a light shove. “It’s Burberry.”

“Still a fanny pack,” I teased.

The sound of her zipping me up filled the silence in the room, the very tense silence. We were close, best friends. I was an only child who refused to cut my apron strings. My eyes misted up as the final zip sounded.

Mom looked up and braced the sides of my head with both of her hands. “Please be careful.” She locked eyes with me. She always smelled like my favorite Prada perfume, and her hands felt warm against my cheeks. “Don’t walk around alone at night, and call me, text me, I don’t care what time it is, and know that if you get scared or if you hate it, you can always come home.”

“My little girl’s not a quitter. Besides, Siu will take care of you. He’s a good man—I trust him with my life,” Dad said, waltzing right into the room with a bounce of pride in his steps. “You ready, squirt?”

I narrowed my eyes and pointed at myself. “Legal drinking age.”

Dad promptly plugged his ears while I sighed, hopped off the suitcase, and made my way over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“Gonna miss you,” he murmured into my hair.

Mom looked away.

I knew she was struggling.

And we all knew this was an insane opportunity, one I needed to take, just like my first steps when I was little—my first real step into the workforce, into adulthood, mine just looked a bit different from others, and I was okay with that.

“I’ll miss the rain,” I said against his chest. All I wanted to do was stay in the safety of his arms a little bit longer.

“I’ll miss you,” he repeated in a whisper.

And then my mom joined us for the hug.

 

The sudden feel of wheels touching down jolted me out of the memory as the plane hit the runway. The sound of Ariana Grande’s voice filled my ears as my eyes greedily drank in the view from the window.

I smiled.

Time for an adventure.

And the chance of a lifetime.

Chapter Two

Surrounded

Grace

 

It was raining. Actually, it was more of a torrential downpour that immediately made me homesick. I could almost smell the Seattle air.

It had to be a good omen, right? I had left rain only to land in rain; everything was going to be one hundred percent fine!

I waited impatiently for my turn and breathed a sigh of relief when I was able to step out into the aisle.

Nerves crashed over me as I grabbed my black Nike backpack and threw it on over my white hoody, thankful I’d packed something warm in my carry-on so that I didn’t freeze in the rain. The last thing I needed was to get sick before I even started the internship.

My leggings were sticking to my legs, and it didn’t help that my feet felt swollen in my gray Allbirds shoes. But none of that could be helped.

Did anyone actually look good after eleven hours on a plane?

Plane sweat was a real thing, and I had a thin layer of it all over my body.

I made a face and quickly adjusted my clearly dyed light blond hair in the messy bun, then stepped into the aisle and walked toward the door.

This was it.

My adventure was officially starting.

I ignored the way my heart pounded as I trekked from the plane to the gate. I don’t know what I was expecting—maybe for culture shock so strong that I’d freeze up—but it didn’t come, the paralyzing fear.

In fact, everything just looked…

Normal.

Like an airport would.

Lots of people, lots of cell phones out, and announcements over the PA that had me feeling oddly like I hadn’t landed in a different country but in a place just like home.

That feeling lasted for a total of five seconds.

Until I made my way toward baggage claim.

This wasn’t a normal airport.

Not at all.

It was insane.

Breathtaking.

High tech, forward-moving, busy.

Clean with a stark white design that screamed expensive and modern.

I gaped as I walked, looking every inch the tourist; all I needed was to pull out my phone and start snapping pictures. I held in a snort as I thought of Mom’s fanny pack—yeah, that would be a dead giveaway, wouldn’t it?

I turned in a slow, tight circle as I finally made it to baggage claim. Everything was so bright and big like the actual airport was a sculpture of pure genius architecture.

With a giant grin on my face, I found myself at baggage claim studying the various sign bearers for Siu. Dad said he would be at the airport waiting for me in baggage claim—he followed that with a ridiculously long speech about prostitution rings in foreign countries and a reminder that Ted Bundy was good-looking too. I patted him on the head and yet again reminded him that I had survived at University of Washington and knew not to take drinks from strangers, always have a buddy at every party, and make sure the Uber driver isn’t a serial killer.

I kept looking at the signs; they were all in both Korean and English, which was a small blessing, so at least I knew I was in the right place.

My mental process felt extremely slow as I searched for my name on the signs some of the drivers were holding. Would it be spelled in English? Korean? And at what point did I need to just text him and ask where he was? I had his cell number for emergencies. I chewed my lower lip and pulled out my cell just as the sound of my name rang out.

“Grace!” It was loud, feminine, definitely not Siu.

I whirled around and nearly collided with a large iPad with my name scribbled on it.

Digital.

Cool trick.

“Hi.” I offered a mini wave.

She blinked at me.

Slowly.

Like she was either having a stroke or was confused why I answered to my own name.

And then I stupidly did a little bow. “Annyeong.”

It was literally the only word I knew.

Hello.

But at least I pronounced it correctly, right? Wrong? Her eyes narrowed as she blinked even slower. Was there another Grace? Was I wrong?

I cleared my throat.

“You.” She drew out the word in English like I would struggle with my own language and needed extra time to process the meaning. “You’re Grace.”

“English, oh thank God.” I exhaled and then winced. “Sorry, my Korean is a bit sub-par.”

Understatement of the century.

“Define.” She looked irritated and panicked all in one. “A bit?”

I gulped. “I should get my suitcase.”

“Owner Siu, he said you would work out just fine, that you majored in production. I was under the assumption…” She reached for me, gripped my arm, and then released it with a blush hitting her cheeks. “We all were under the assumption that you were Korean-American.” She paused and then added. “Native.”

I frowned and almost touched my hair, suddenly feeling self-conscious about how bright and messy it was. “Um, I was born in Seattle, lived there my entire life. My dad and Uncle Siu are brothers, both of them were enlisted at the same time in Korea. Dad saved his life, and while we don’t really have a super close family, they’ve stayed in touch over the years. So my dad’s Korean but my mom…” I trailed off. What did a person actually say in this situation? My Korean dad fell in love with my American mom, and the rest was history? One of the greatest love stories of all time that transcended any sort of language or cultural barrier, because wasn’t that what love did? It was the first time I’d been uncomfortable in my own skin since middle school when I had girls mock my eyes or call me names behind my back like I wasn’t good enough to sit at their table. My confidence came from my parents, and then slowly, I realized I could choose to let people hurt me, choose to let the arrows dig into my skin, or I could stand taller and be better than the ones shooting them.

I chose the latter.

Not that it meant I had zero insecurities, but at least in college, I found people of every race, sexual orientation, background—and I accepted them just like they accepted me. While there was the occasional asshat, at least I was able to find friends and not panic every time I walked into the lunchroom. I shuddered. Not fitting in, no matter how great your upbringing is, always reared its ugly head whenever I was feeling out of place… Like now.

“Oh…” She looked worried. I think she was close to my age. Then again, I couldn’t tell; I immediately felt like a decade older than her. My skin would never look that perfect, and I suddenly realized I needed to get my brows waxed. My hair looked like a bird had made a nest in it then suffocated on the ratty strands. And again, plane sweat.

This girl? Her hair was pulled into a low bun with pieces falling out front; it was so shiny I would need sunglasses if I stared any longer, and I couldn’t find a flaw on any part of her perfect skin.

Not that I was looking for something to be wrong with her, but it would be nice if she had something out of place, a strand of hair stuck to her cheek or smudged makeup, so I didn’t feel so grungy like I needed to suddenly go on a diet and buy face wash that I would actually use rather than just stockpile in my bathroom.

“Um…” I started chewing on my thumbnail.

Her eyes widened in horror.

No nail chewing. Got it.

I dropped my hand and gulped. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” She said it quickly, almost violently. “It’s not okay.”

The loud thud of bags getting thrown onto the belt interrupted our awkward stare-down. I held up my finger, motioning for her to give me one minute, and went to retrieve my bag.

I was gone maybe three minutes.

She was nowhere to be found.

I looked left, right, center.

I started shaking.

And then I saw her appear from behind a column on her cell phone, her hand waving in the air like she was irritated.

And then she locked eyes with me again. How could someone be so pretty up close? It didn’t even look like she was wearing makeup!

Her black leather dress was super chic; her red knee-high boots looked like she’d plucked them right off a magazine cover.

She shoved her phone back in her light blue purse. I frowned at the design; a Barbie-typeface was pressed on the front. It looked more expensive than everything in the banged-up black suitcase I was currently rolling in her direction.

To what appeared like her absolute horror.

Great first impression, Grace!

“Is my Uncle Siu coming?” I tilted my head, waiting for her answer.

She bit down on her glossy lower lip. “No.”

Don’t panic, obviously she worked for him or with him. “Are you taking me to see him?”

She said something in Korean, followed by “fired” in English. She pressed her perfectly manicured fingertips to her forehead and whimpered.

“Are you okay?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” She nodded her head in finality and turned on her heel like she was mentally making decisions for both of us. “This way.”

She was a fast walker.

I struggled to keep up with her as I balanced my luggage in an effort to exit the airport without falling off the curb and into oncoming traffic.

A black Honda Sedan had its trunk already open. The driver didn’t ask for my luggage. He just approached and took it from me.

The door was already open in the back, so I got in while my new bestie got in the front seat and started texting like the world would end if she didn’t go fast enough.

I buckled up and leaned forward. “Hey, what’s your name?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and then stared straight ahead; either she couldn’t remember what it was, or she didn’t want to tell me.

I was betting on the latter.

“Solia.” She stiffened in her seat as the driver took off at an alarming speed amidst honking from other cars.

I gripped the door handle. “That’s pretty.”

“Thank you.”

More silence.

“Is there a problem?”

She shifted in her seat; her posture was perfect. Was I hunching? I moved against the leather seat and tried to sit up further as we passed more cars and accelerated forward.

“I was told you were perfect for the internship—I assumed you were fluent in the language. The position you’ll be working in is…” She sighed. “Tedious.”

“Tedious how?”

“Do you have any nicer clothes in your bag?” She asked it so courteously that I wasn’t even insulted that she’d changed the subject.

This was not going to go over well. “I like to be comfortable. I brought one dress and—”

She started choking and then started fanning herself like she was going to pass out. “I’ll make notes.”

“Notes?”

“Of what we’ll need.”

“Need?”

“Do you often repeat everything you hear? Is this why he sent me? Is this some sort of test for my promotion?”

“Oh, you’re getting promoted?” I smiled wide. “Good for you!”

She turned in her seat and leveled me with a curious stare. “I guess that depends on how easily you can manage.”

“Manage what?”

“Them,” was all she said.

I’d never been so terrified of a word in my entire life.

It wasn’t just the way she said it.

It was the look she gave me.

Completely hopeless and empty.

I gulped and looked out the window, surprised that it didn’t feel as foreign as I thought it would. It reminded me of LA, only a lot cleaner. We still weren’t into the main part of the city, but the closer we got, the worse traffic became. Add that in with all of the skyscrapers I could see up ahead and flashing signs, and I was in heaven.

It was loud and exciting, so bright and different from Seattle that I couldn’t wipe the grin from my face.

The signs were in English and Korean, and I breathed a sigh of relief that I wasn’t going to walk into a coffee shop only to realize it was for ramen.

See? I was going to be fine.

And despite the fact that I was causing the girl in the front seat to have a nervous breakdown, it was great. It would totally work out. She was probably just high-strung. In the research I had conducted, I’d discovered that Koreans were expected to include a freaking headshot with their resumes, often worked sixteen-hour days, and sacrificed everything to move up in their jobs. I imagined she wasn’t just exhausted but extremely stressed out. I only hoped that I could help her in some way during my internship. God knew the woman could use a coffee and a sedative.

I was still admittedly nervous about seeing Uncle Siu again, but my dad was an incredible judge of character, and since they were close, I knew I probably didn’t have anything to be worried about. Besides, he’d called us, right? That had to count for something, plus duh, he was family.

I yawned behind my hand as my eyes got heavy. I had no idea what time it was back home and suddenly didn’t care. I just wanted to close my eyes for a little bit, but the minute I finally succumbed to exhaustion and started to dream about street tacos with extra cheese, the car jerked to a stop.

I jolted awake and bumped the window with my fist, nearly taking it out.

Solia turned around and stared me down. “You have drool.”

I swiped my fingers across my mouth. Good, now I looked sloppy on top of all the sweat. Oh, dear God, I didn’t even want to look at a mirror; it would probably traumatize me for life. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

“We’re here.” Ignoring my apology, she got out of the car and opened my door. I gaped up at a huge building that didn’t look like a hotel or a house.

It looked more like an apartment building, a really fancy one with a waterfall in front and so many trees placed around it that I felt like they’d set the building in the middle of a park.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. “Is it like a AIRBNB?”

She didn’t answer.

I was suddenly getting used to her lack of communication, like wasting words on me was beneath her or just took too much energy, but who wouldn’t have questions? I knew next to nothing!

She grabbed my suitcase from the driver and inclined her head toward the metal doors. “This way.”

Did we not tip here?

Was I expected to?

Panicked, I had a moment of being paralyzed before I cleared my throat, put on my backpack, hooked my fingers in the straps, and followed dutifully—question-free.

A tall security guard with dark hair and an easy smile waved at Solia, then slowly eyed me up and down, his eyes widening with each second.

Did I still have drool?

I quickly wiped my face, forced a smile, and waited.

Was everyone going to give me that exact same look of disbelief?

I did just get off a long flight, and it wasn’t like I had a T-shirt on that read: “I’m not from here!”

I frowned and followed her into a waiting elevator. It was half glass and gave you an amazing view of the city and the trees as it carried us upward. I hoped I would have some free time to explore.

The elevator kept going up, up, up, and finally stopped; had it gone any further, we would have Willy Wonka’d ourselves completely out of the building on a direct route toward the moon.

We were obviously at the penthouse.

I assumed she was taking me to see Siu. Where else would we go right after getting off the plane? Honestly, it was probably best to meet him now before I went back to wherever I was staying and crashed. He’d told my dad that I was staying in the SWT dorms, whatever that meant. I hadn’t seen a sign on the building, but I assumed I was going to be in one of the many rooms in the building I was currently standing in.

Jet lag was hitting hard and fast as my heavy feet followed Solia. We reached a black door with a silver handle. Next to the door was a white marble table with a phone, a green plant, and mints.

Huh.

She typed in a number on the small keypad and turned the flat handle. And then she just held it, like she was afraid to push it open. She literally had the same look on her face I’d had when I stumbled inside my house after my twenty-first birthday, completely wasted off margaritas and too much tequila.

Interesting.

She pressed her forehead to the door for a few seconds then shoved it open.

I followed her in, immediately stunned at the modern entryway with its dark hardwood floors and white walls. The right wall was massive with no artwork, not even a picture to interrupt its massiveness. To the left was an open stairway with metal steps leading up to a second level. The entire place was stark, extremely modern, and somehow a bit cold. It screamed expensive with its white walls and architecture.

Raised voices were coming from deeper inside the apartment.

She looked heavenward and then slowly zipped out of her boots and stared me down. I got it—I needed to pop off my Allbirds.

“Oh, oh, okay.” I quickly took off my shoes and grabbed the white slippers in front of me, mimicking her actions and hoping I didn’t just steal some poor grandpa’s house shoes in an effort to fit in.

Solia stiffened as she rolled my suitcase forward, suddenly moving so fast that I had to jog to keep up with her as she rounded a corner. The voices continued to rise. One of my slippers nearly came off as I tried to keep up.

I almost ran into her when she stopped and gave a small bow to a man with shots of silver in his dark hair. He had intense brown eyes that, even through the lenses of his black-rimmed glasses, showed flashes of anger.

Solia sounded like she was apologizing, and even if she had talked slower, I would have had no idea what she was saying. I couldn’t remember if I was supposed to bow too, and I suddenly hated the fact that it was such a rushed commitment that I hadn’t had time to research more.

After a long sigh, she said my name.

And again, I was reminded of what it sounded like when you name-dropped someone you wanted to also run over with your car.

I frowned. Was she apologizing because she picked me up and we were late, or was she apologizing on my behalf?

Because of me?

Slowly the man lifted his gaze to me and visibly flinched.

Awesome.

“Grace?” His voice was warm at least, his smile tentative but at least present as he eyed me from head to toe then gave me a slight bow.

It felt like they were both waiting for me to do something—anything, so I jutted out my hand like a lunatic and blurted, “Uncle Siu, it’s so good to see you again!”

Solia squeezed her eyes shut while Siu smiled at me and reached across the space between us, squeezed my hand, and said, “How’s your father?”

“He’s well, thank you for asking, and thank you for this opportunity. I promise I won’t let you down.”

His smile turned into a full-on beam. “I trust your father with my life, and now I’m trusting you with this internship. I know you’ll make us both very proud, Grace.”

I had the need to turn to Solia and say something like, “See, told you so! Stop freaking out! My dad saved his life. He’s my uncle. I’ve got this!” Before I said anything, though, more footsteps sounded, followed by what might have been arguing.

Siu seemed to stiffen a bit as rapid Korean filled the air, and five guys made their way into the living room, looking ready to murder each other if the pitch of their voices was anything to go on.

More interns?

Maybe this was a meeting?

I had no idea what my job was, but it would make sense that he would pull all of us together and give us a quick—please, God, let it be quick—debriefing.

I bit down on my lower lip as the newcomer in the center lifted his head. He had gorgeous red hair and the clearest blue eyes I’d ever seen in my entire life. No way were they natural. I almost complimented him when he looked to Siu and then to Solia and fired something off in Korean.

Solia smirked next to me and whispered, “He asked if you were homeless.”

Oh lovely, she was going to translate insults.

Perfect.

What a day!

I semi-glared back at him only to earn an equally taunting glare in return. Seriously? If we were going to be working together, he needed to back off.

I switched my glare to a smile and said one word I knew was universal. “No.”

The guys all snickered right along with him, and one of the others whispered something under his breath. I knew it wasn’t good when more looks were shot in my direction.

“Ugly,” Solia offered, louder than I would have liked.

Was the middle finger universal too?

If Uncle Siu wasn’t there, I would have been tempted, but this was more than an internship, It was about my dad, and their relationship too. I held my head high and ignored them.

Uncle Siu turned toward the guys and spread his arms wide, then seemed to scold them in Korean before turning to me and saying, “They apologize.”

He was watching me so he couldn’t see them

Every single one of them looked anything but apologetic.

In fact, they looked every inch the bullies that parents warned their kids about: too good-looking, too rich, too everything to care about anything but themselves.

I could play that game.

I wasn’t a child.

And I wasn’t going to let them taunt me just because I looked different than they did. They wanted ugly? I’d give them ugly.

When my uncle turned back around, I quickly took off my sweatshirt, wrapped it around my waist, and tied it, may as well embrace the homelessness and all that, besides why did it matter? They were in the same boat I was! Just because they were dressed better and didn’t look like they were begging for cash on the streets didn’t mean that they were any different than me. I almost stuck out my tongue when the one with red hair choked on another laugh and said something to the guy next to him.

Whatever. He could ignore me the entire three months for all I cared.

I shrugged and crossed my arms as if to say, what? Is that all you got? I mean, I had to deal with Aisha Taylor for four years of high school—I could handle anything at this point in my life, and even our school counselor had been scared of her.

I lifted my chin in defiance and waited for them to say more. It’s not like I could understand them anyway… I mean, it sucked the same, but whatever, I was here to learn, I was here so that I could do what I loved, cultural barriers be damned.

One elbowed the other.

My eyebrows arched as if to say, you really wanna go down this road?

And weirdly enough, they all looked away.

All but one.

The one who called me ugly.

Well, if he wanted war.

He’d get it.

Because I wasn’t quitting.

I wasn’t leaving.

And I would stay even if it killed me.

Chapter Three

Wolves

Grace

 

I survived middle school.

I could survive some rich kid calling me ugly, it wasn’t like I was on the Korean Bachelorette, right? I mean, I’d take a rose from any one of them based on looks alone, but personality?

Pass.

Besides, as long as we all did our jobs, shared the work, and didn’t kill each other, all would be well!

Suddenly feeling better about my internal pep talk, I turned to Siu and asked,” So are we all in the internship program for the next few months?”

Solia looked ready to strangle me from where I stood; her expressions were getting more and more hostile the more I spoke.

You would think I’d just asked if we were going to hurry up and get naked, then rub our bodies down with mayonnaise while watching Game of Thrones.

Siu shot me a warm smile instead of an answer. Weird. “Normally, I would go over all the details with you on your first day, but we’ve had a bit of an emergency with SWT, meaning I need to put out several fires all at once without losing sponsorships and contracts for the upcoming Showcase.”

He was speaking English, and I was still completely, hopelessly lost. I settled for, “Right, okay.” And almost gave him a thumbs up. I’ve never been more aware of my awkward Americanness than that moment. All I needed was to shout “get ‘er done!” and I’d be solidified, written down in history, maybe they’d give me a trophy? Ugh. Where was a flag and a fanny pack when I needed one? I knew I should have grabbed mom’s!

“So…” He eyed Solia. “Until then, Assistant Solia will be in charge of not only training you but making sure you have everything you need. Normally things aren’t this chaotic, but again, it’s an emergency. We’ve had a lot of issues over the past few weeks and, well, you’re family—I trust you, and right now I need people I can trust more than anything, people that won’t,” he shared a look with Solia, “leak things to the press, specifically.”

His face paled as he clenched his hands into fists at his sides.

With the dorm I was standing in? The label?

SWT?

Wouldn’t someone from the label handle that? Not a brand new intern?

I kept my mouth shut and nodded again.

He breathed a sigh of what appeared to be relief. “You’ll do fine. I’ll be back to check in on you as soon as I can. You have my cell phone number—use it only in emergencies —and it’s so wonderful to see you, Grace. Your father mentioned you had a hard time in the States getting your foot in the door. I hope this is mutually beneficial.”

I beamed. “It already has been; thank you again; I’m really excited to be a help.”

I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to shake his hand again, but he made the decision for me as he stepped forward, did a little bow, and whispered, “Only a short bow is needed when you meet people who you’re familiar with. Besides, we’re family. Say thank you, hello… you’ll get used to it. People will forgive a lot since you’re American. Respect the culture, and you’ll be just fine.”

I nodded as my emotions got the best of me, my eyes filling with tears. “I’m going to work really hard. I promise I’ll try.”

“I know.” I could see the stress in his posture. I wanted to diffuse the situation, but I had no clue what the situation even was and was semi afraid to ask.

He turned away from me and barked out in Korean, “Josu Solia,” then switched to English. “This falls on your shoulders. I trust we won’t have any more situations in the next week before the Showcase?”

Solia gave him a confident smile. “SWT is in good hands as always.”

He exhaled and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. “Let’s hope so.”

He looked ready to walk away when she took a step in front of him and whispered something in Korean.

My body felt hot as all the guys stared me down with knowing smirks like she was saying something horrific about me. I probably looked like an absolute train wreck. Then again, why did I care? As long as I did my job well, right?

My body still felt hot as their stares penetrated to my very soul. It would be easier if they were unattractive, but calling them ugly would be a bald-faced lie.

My skin was sweaty and probably smelled like plane pretzels.

Theirs?

Flawless. I’d never seen a guy with such perfect skin, let alone five of them.

“I see.” Siu took a step back and eyed me up and down quickly. “Grace, did you happen to bring any more work-appropriate clothes?” He cleared his throat like he was embarrassed to even be asking me.

Heat flooded my face. “Um, I have a dress.”

“A dress?” he repeated in astonishment.

“I’ll go shopping,” I offered quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I assumed I’d be running a lot of errands and grabbing coffee, so I went for more work casual, but whatever I need to do, I can do.” There, that sounded good.

He gave me a curt nod while Solia just shook her head like I was hopeless and offered in a smooth yet calculated voice, “I made a list of things she’ll need. I’ll go over it after curfew.”

Interns had a curfew?

Was that a cultural thing?

Weren’t these guys the same age? And why did I suddenly feel like I was back in high school?

“Good.” Siu checked his watch and looked back up at me. “Tonight, Solia will have you start with elevator duty. Again, she’ll go over the requirements and studying materials once I leave.”

“Okay…” I gulped. “I may need help if I’m going to be guiding people to their floors. It’s a big building.”

“Oh!” Siu let out a chuckle. “You won’t be helping people to their floors—you’ll be guarding it.”

“So people can’t get in, gotcha.” Was I at least going to get a taser?

“No.” He sighed in exhaustion, rubbing his eyes. “So they can’t get out.”

All five interns grinned at me; each of them had smiles that told me I wasn’t going to be taking a nap anytime soon and would most likely hate my job within the first hour.

Why was I protecting fellow interns? Was it dangerous here? Oh God, why hadn’t I thought this through? We had to guard the door to the elevator? Seriously? Why hadn’t the internet helped me with this?

Siu gave me a half nod. “I need to go. Assistant Solia will give you each of the idols’ preferences and profiles. Memorize them well.”

“Idols,” I said dumbly as my eyes searched the rest of the interns for any hint of information. “I think I may be confused.” Wasn’t that what they called musicians in Korea? Panicked, I glanced at Solia.

I could feel her frustration with me as she let out an irritated sigh and muttered, “So American, thinking everything’s about you. Don’t worry, Sajangnim, I’ll make sure to brief her on what she needs to know about…” She eyed me with irritation. “…idols.”

“Thank you.” Siu walked toward the door and called over his shoulder. “Assistant Solia, don’t forget about the camera crew. They’ll be arriving around four a.m. to wake them up for their morning choreography.”

“Four a.m.?” I mouthed. Ouch. I really hoped they were talking about the talent and not the interns. Then again, if I was bringing coffee to the talent, I’d most likely have to be up at four a.m. too.

Don’t panic.

Do. Not. Panic.

I looked up and caught one of the guys staring at me. He had dark hair with bits of it dyed pink. An earring dangled out of his right ear, and the leather jacket that clung lovingly to his body was one I could have sworn I’d just seen in Vogue. His lips were full and shiny, his skin flawless, and his eyes? Well, let’s just say he could give me tips on how to make my eyeliner look more natural.

He didn’t look away from me.

Progress?

I offered a small smile, causing him to instantly look away about the same time another one of the guys shoved him—it was the one with blond hair, the one who’d made a nasty comment about me being ugly.

Siu barked out something in Korean just before slamming the door behind him, causing each of the guys to straighten up a bit.

I opened my mouth to ask Solia something. She was no longer in the room. When had she left?

My Nike duffel backpack and plain black suitcase still sat next to me; I’d never felt more ordinary and plain in my entire life.

And I couldn’t escape the embarrassment that washed over me as the guys slowly approached like I was a creature from the wilds of Peru, a deranged jungle cat who’d lived in the wild too long and had no sense of normalcy.

They looked like they were studying me.

I quickly tucked pieces of my fallen hair behind my ears. Where was Solia?!

The mean one with the red hair leaned in until I could feel his breath on my neck. “Mok yee mal la yo.”

Shit. I was murdering my dad.

What was the term?

Patricide?

Happening.

Tears welled in my eyes.

I wanted nothing more than to pull out my iPhone and attempt to type what he’d just said into the app, though I’d most likely spell it all wrong and come up with something like, please serve me fire ants while balancing a machete on your chin.

You can do this Grace. You can do this.

“Ji,” he repeated tersely. “Mok yee mal la yo.”

I gulped.

He just shook his head and made an imaginary motion of tilting his head back and drinking something.

“Thirsty!” I blurted. “You’re thirsty?” I repeated the motion.

Wait, why would I be getting an intern water?

Maybe he was the talent, and the other four were the interns?

I wasn’t here to make friends, but I really didn’t need to make any enemies either.

His nod somehow managed to look arrogant, maybe just for my benefit?

I let out a sigh. “Fine, even though you’re an intern, I’ll go grab you water because I’m going to try to be the bigger person. Maybe this will be a peace offering. Maybe—” I squeezed my eyes shut as his eyebrows shot up to his forehead like he was trying not to judge me—and failing. “Maybe I’ll just stop talking to myself and get right on that.” I turned on my heel and all but sprinted into the kitchen area and quickly opened the huge stainless steel fridge. Everything in the kitchen was shiny and high tech from the stovetop to the microwave; it was almost baffling how different a simple kitchen felt in Korea.

I quickly grabbed a bottle of water, then grabbed a few more—so that I was extending peace offerings to all five of them, not just one—and made my way back into the living room. The guys had all dispersed in the few seconds that I was gone, though my new red-headed friend was on the far side of the couch.

I hurried over to him and held out a water.

He stared at it.

Not for a few seconds—that would be normal.

It was more like one full minute, with my hand out, nearly shaking from the heaviness of the bottle—well, that and nervousness—just waiting for him to take it.

Freaking take it!

Water. Thirst. Was I missing something?

He yawned and then bit out a slow. “Ah ni ya.” His voice was so low, not angry, just… annoyed.

At me.

Perfect.

I didn’t need a translator to know that he’d suddenly decided that he wasn’t thirsty at all, just irritated by my breathing.

The rest of the bottles were in the process of making my shirt wet as I clutched them against my chest like a newborn.

I made a small turn; nobody was looking at me.

I exhaled slowly and started walking back to the kitchen when the one with the gorgeous blond hair blocked my path.

How had I already messed up so badly?

And why were they all so freaking rude?

Slowly, he held out his hand like I was going to bite him, and then he very carefully grabbed the bottle of water. He nodded his head, twisted the cap, then slowly tilted his head back as he drank a few sips.

A drop of water slid down his chin.

I gaped. Eyes wide. Mouth open.

He was superhuman.

All of them were.

What kind of world had I just walked into?

When he was done, he gave me a lazy stare that had me ready to offer him a dopey smile in return. Maybe they were pumping pheromones through the air conditioning?

He didn’t say thank you, but he did wink at me, one solitary wink that had my inner teenager letting out a shrieky squeal. Hot guy noticed us! Yay! Too bad hot guy and all the other hot guys are ridiculously rude. Remember the rudeness, Grace!

I probably looked like the most unintelligent person on the planet. I stared at him like he was an alien from outer space, and then he shook his head, let out a small laugh, and took a step toward me.

There wasn’t much space between us. He seemed extremely amused—either that or pleased over the water.

It couldn’t be me, could it?

“What are you doing?” Solia suddenly appeared out of nowhere; her voice was hushed like they could actually understand her in English.

What was I doing? Getting pregnant? I mean… I snorted out a small laugh; my sarcasm would be lost on her. Besides, she looked ready to strangle me.

Again.

“Sorry.” I cleared my throat as blond-haired wonder sauntered off. “Red hair was thirsty… I think, or maybe he was just telling me I looked thirsty?”

Her eyes widened. “Lucas spoke? To you?”

Red hair, tall? Oh, and rude, yeah definitely too cool of a name for him. “If Lucas has though, it was more of a sign language thing.”

She squeezed her eyes shut like looking at me was physically painful or just all-around irritating. “You won’t be sleeping tonight, between studying and trying to keep them in. I refuse to cancel my meetings just because you don’t know how to babysit.”

“Sorry.” I gulped. “I just— I’m really out of my element, and I’m still trying to figure out why I need to babysit fellow interns. Can’t we get an adult for that?”

It was a joke.

She didn’t laugh.

In fact, her skin turned a shade of white I’d never before seen on another human being and probably never would.

She grabbed my free arm, nearly knocking all of the water bottles out of them, and dragged me to the kitchen. I clumsily placed the bottles on the countertop while she braced her hands against the stark white granite. “They aren’t interns. You’re the intern.”

“Right.” I nodded, on the verge of stressed-out tears. “Okay, then who are they, and why are they here?”

“Did nobody brief you? On anything? At all?”

“Not really. It happened fast. Siu—”

“No, no, you call him Owner Siu. He’s the owner of the record company. Or in Korean, Soyuja Siu. You always address the person with their job title before their name. Otherwise, you’re being rude. Did your family never teach you about honorifics? Are you even half Korean?” Each word felt like another blow to my gut.

Because not fitting in had always been a big insecurity until college and now I felt like I was back in middle school with all the blond-haired, blue-eyed girls.

And other than Uncle Siu, who I’d only met briefly when I was younger, I didn’t have any family on my dad’s side, unless you count super distant relatives. It was like Solia knew every single insecurity I already had and decided to just bang me over the head until I had a breakdown.

Another rough exhale from my favorite person. “I’m Assistant Solia to you, by the way, not just Solia.” Did she have to make it sound like I said her name while dealing with a sinus infection on top of everything else? “I help Soyuja Siu manage the band; you’re just the…” She shrugged. “You’re the person who makes sure that they want for nothing. You’re not even really an intern, at least not according to me. Look, we have someone starting from another label in three months, but until then, and because the scandal was leaked to the press, it’s…” She hesitated then. “You, that he trusts, probably because you don’t even know who they are and don’t care. Your job is to be silent, not seen, not heard. Your job is to do what we tell you and do it well.”

“Sorry,” I whispered yet again, feeling both agitated and embarrassed. What else was I supposed to say? At this point, the entire apartment building had probably heard our conversation, seen my shame.

“You didn’t know. Of course, you don’t know a lot of anything—this is so typical of Soyuja! He likes helping people. And he was probably so desperate for someone who didn’t know the whole situation since the last few interns quit—” Her head shot up. “Don’t repeat that, by the way.”

“Wouldn’t dare.” I held up my hands while my brain did the calculations. Every other intern had quit. I was from America; I knew nothing about the record industry in Korea other than it was a booming multi-billion-dollar industry.

K-pop was huge, at least according to the five articles I had read before falling asleep on the plane.

“Your only job as an intern is to make sure the guys are happy, that they don’t escape the talent apartments, and that they don’t accidentally create another scandal before their comeback.”

“So those guys in there?” I was almost afraid to hear her answer but asked it anyway.

She straightened her spine with pride and announced. “One of the biggest K-pop groups in the world, SWT.” She gulped. “Those are the idols.”

I… was afraid of that.

“Perfect,” I croaked, ready to pass out on the spot. “Good thing we really seemed to hit it off.”

She let out a snort. “I expected them to throw you out the window and take bets on how many seconds it would take for you to hit the trees.”

“Ah, sarcasm.” I crossed my arms.

“I was being serious.” She scowled. “You don’t make it to this level without hard work. You’re lucky because of who you know, but I’ve been working this job since I was fourteen and became a trainee for an idol group at the same age. I had exactly three hours of sleep every night for four years, still couldn’t make the cut. I finally decided to join the other side and work for the groups.”

“Trainee?” I repeated. “What’s a trainee?”

Again with the death glare. “You need to do yourself a favor and start YouTubing, or even Soyuja isn’t going to be able to save you.” She looked behind me. “The chef should be here soon to cook dinner for everyone. Let’s get you settled in next door, and I’ll try to help as much as I can. I don’t want to be fired because you’re incompetent. Their diet is essential this close to the comeback stage.”

Ouch.

“And yes, his name is Lucas, he’s one of the main rappers, also second visual according to most of the fans. He’s a favorite, but he doesn’t speak to people he doesn’t know. It’s his thing, he’s… difficult. Once he gets over that stage, you can most likely call him by his nickname— Actually, save yourself the trouble. Just use their stage names. You’ll just butcher their actual names and embarrass yourself, then I’ll have to make excuses for you, and it’s just not worth it at this point.”

And the hits just kept coming.

“What about the guy with the red hair again?” I blurted. She’d said everything so fast that I barely caught visual and rapper before nearly having a nervous breakdown.

She sighed. “Just stay diligent.”

What the ever-loving hell did that mean?

She grabbed my suitcase. I had to almost jog to keep up with her as we went back down the entryway and scanned a little card on a door directly to the right of their front door.

She shoved it open with her hip.

It was a small apartment.

One you’d pay two grand a month to live in, back in Seattle.

It had one large window in the sparse living room. Had two leather couches, a fur rug, and a flat-screen TV attached to the wall.

There was a mini-kitchen with a stainless steel fridge and a microwave, which I was thankful for. The sink was next to the bar, which had two metal stools.

And to the far right of the kitchen was one tiny bedroom with a place to hang all my clothes.

The room had one mattress on the floor and a desk.

I wasn’t complaining.

“This is where you’ll be living for the next three months. We keep most of the interns close to the group, especially this one so that you can be at their every beck and call.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

Not one bit.

“But—” I licked my lips and tried not to sound frustrated. “I’ll get to see them record too, right? I really want to see that side of things, the writing, the producing, the process of…” My voice trailed off as her eyes widened to a frightening level. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“You’re an intern. You’re only job is to make sure they’re happy, and they stay on good behavior. No scandals. In the US, a scandal makes you famous. Here, it kills your entire career in an instant—here, idols commit suicide from the pressure, a mistaken dating scandal where they’re caught holding hands with the wrong person. The comments on Instagram alone are enough to send them into a tailspin of depression.” She shuddered. “The production company loses millions, and there is no comeback. That’s why you’re here. You study their profiles down to their blood type.”

Did she just say blood type?

“And you get them what they need before they need it.”

“You mean along with guarding the elevator?”

Her gorgeous face fell. “That’s not typical, but after today…”

“What happened today?” I asked as she handed me a portfolio folder with an iPad on top. Her hands were busy, but her face was etched with concern as she exhaled and then repeated the process like she wasn’t getting enough air.

“Lucas …” Her voice hitched. “…was found with a girl—a fan, kissing. He says it wasn’t his fault that she attacked him, but she said that he’s been texting her, that they have a relationship. It hit the news last week, blew up this week, and fans went wild as if he cheated on the whole world when he didn’t do anything wrong. This afternoon, Soyuja Siu found him… on the roof.”

“The roof? Why? To get away from the chaos?”

Her eyes locked on mine as she shoved another portfolio into my hands. “To jump. He was on the roof to jump.”

I’d never understood the importance of elevator duty so much.

I felt my knees weaken. “I’ll guard the elevator with my life.”

“Good, because his may just depend on it.”

“Shouldn’t he be on suicide watch?” I asked softly, remembering all of the psych classes I was forced to take as an undergrad.

“And make his shame even more public?” She seemed horrified at the thought.

Shame? What did she mean shame? If he was depressed, he needed help! He needed someone to talk to! He didn’t need to be babysat by an intern! That wasn’t the answer.

“It’s about what’s best for him, right?” I tried a different angle. Even though I didn’t know him, he seemed too young to be dealing with that kind of pressure—they all did.

“No.” Her smile was sad. “It’s about what’s best for the group, their fans, and the company. That’s their reality. That’s what they signed up for.”

I couldn’t wrap my head around it. One of the guys in there looked barely old enough to be out of high school. “Forget the group. What about the individual?”

“You don’t understand.”

I knew she wasn’t trying to make me feel stupid, but I still felt stupid for not understanding.

“The day it hit the news stocks fell fifteen percent, the Instagram account for the group lost almost fifty thousand followers, and two fans egged the side of the apartment building, so no, he doesn’t get to have a life. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have meetings. You have my cell. Call me if you need anything. They’ll be busy eating, so I wouldn’t worry too much during dinner. Grab a chair, place it in front of the door, plant yourself in it, and study all the material.”

I nodded in stunned disbelief as her words washed over me. In the US entertainment industry, something like this would go viral on YouTube and give fans something to gossip about, so why was it different here? I was trying to wrap my head around it and realized I really didn’t have any time to do that—I had a job to do. I just wish there was someone else that could let me ask at least a dozen questions so I didn’t do my job wrong, especially if lives hung in the balance. It wasn’t what I was expecting and was so different than what I was used to seeing on TMZ with celebrities.

I didn’t realize I was chewing my fingernail until I looked up, and Solia was already halfway to the door.

“What about sleeping?” I called after her as she hurried out of the small apartment door.

She looked over her shoulder with a laugh. “Learn to embrace caffeine, your nights of sleeping are over.”

“Great,” I croaked, and then because I was paranoid and a bit panicked, I followed after her, grabbed one of the metal chairs from the kitchen and set it in front of the door, and got to work.