April Loves Black Coffee: First Impressions (53 page)

“Yes. The box I live in is equivalent to twenty thousand square feet, actually.” The gang lord’s ego comes into play. “So you can join me in the dream. I always thought you existed in the dreams for a reason.”

What is he talking about?
“And I always thought you existed in my nightmares. I guess we’re both wrong.”

Jaewon’s lips curl into a bemused smile. “You’re right, you’re not much of a flirt.”

“Gang lords aren’t my type,” I snap smartly.

Jaewon cocks his head to the side. “Well, we’ll have to change that.” He continues walking.

Ohhhh
. My intuition swoons. I am speechless at his self-confidence and worship. All I can do is follow Jaewon like a lost puppy. The alcohol continues to dance in my head. 

We walk down the dark street
, eventually crossing the end of the strip back to The Trax. The cool night air caresses my face, propelling the alcohol in my system. I should be afraid of him, but I feel protected instead. His presence sends sparks through my veins.

“If you think you can take advantage of me because I’m drunk, think again.” I find myself making a stand.

Jaewon leans in real close, so close that I can smell that distinctive cologne of his. His voice becomes husky and tantalizing. “I can’t take advantage of you unless you don’t want me to.”

What? Really?
Instinctively, I reach out to touch him. I don’t have a plan, but I do it because I want to make sure he is real.

Even in his intoxicated state, Jaewon sees my attempt five seconds faster. He quickly removes his arm from me.
Oh, the King doesn’t like to be touched?
Jaewon frowns and we lock in another stare.

Suddenly, the air coalesces around us and the rain begins to pour overhead. Massive droplets bombard us, hitting the cold ground at thundering speed. I feel as though we are being attacked. 

“Shit!”

“No!”

Jaewon and I throw hands above our heads and run under the overhang of The Trax. The construction site is down for the night; the entire area is isolated. In the darkness and shattering racket of the rain, Jaewon pulls out the keys to the building from his vest. When the doors open, Jaewon leads the way. Once inside, we follow the side wall of the building to the main vacant area.

Jaewon tosses the keys on what’s left of the old bar. He takes off his Executive jacket to reveal a black linen shirt. His hair remains matted against his chiseled facial structure–highlighting his dark, shimmering eyes. His black linen shirt is damp, but Jaewon disregards it for now. The gang lord scans the empty room and spots an assortment of different colored spray bottles in front of an empty wall.

“That’s illegal!” I hiss when Jaewon takes two black and red spray bottle, shakes them up in each hand, and squirts the wall. I forget that I am also wet from the rain. I am too caught up in the moment.

“Don’t worry. I own the building, literally.” Jaewon steps back and begins to work.

I am entertained, amused, and afraid all at the same time. I can only watch him. He’s an artist too? Gang lord, mind reader, and artist. Jaewon continues to spray the wall at arm’s length. With great dexterity, Jaewon is aiming the bottles at an angle intricate loops and spirals. Mesmerized, I watch Jaewon’s blazing concentration. He’s perfect just like this. 

Damn
May, you are drunk!
My conscience’s cheeks are red too.

“Mayhem,” I mumble when Yoon Jaewon steps back from his work. Right in the middle of the wall, in large black and yellow colors is the word
MAYHEM
. The font is italicized and bold with obscure coils and rings.

“That looks good,” I say breathlessly as my eyes jump excitedly to take in the color and texture. My pupils dilate because of my excessive alcohol intake. This is the most artistic thing I have ever seen in person. What Jaewon created is what abstract artists do–a graphic voice that resonates through the creative font.

Jaewon smirks as he looks over his shoulder at me. He’s not modest at all. Jaewon gestures at one of the spray bottles. “Your turn.”

“I can’t.” I back away, shaking my head.

“Alright, I’ll write your name for you,” Jaewon offers. This gang lord is not the type to beg. Jaewon raises his hand to the wall, but asks shortly, “Uh . . . What is it?”

“You really don’t know my name?” I gape at Jaewon. I thought he was just being a jerk at the bar, but I guess his bluff is really the truth.

Jaewon stares at me, perhaps knowing I am hurt. “It-it has something to do with the month right? Um . . . April.”

He’s got to be kidding me. April? “If you’re known for the fear you strike in people, I am sure you can remember my name.”

“April is more suiting for you.” Like the nuisance that he is, Jaewon proceeds to add to the tagging of his own name.

“What are you writing?” I walk closer to him. “April loves Black Coffee,” I read when Jaewon’s done with the tagging.

That’s some crazy stuff.
My intuition is gaping at the majestic art in front of her.
This guy’s spontaneous, creative, artistic, dangerous, hot, and everything else under the sun.

“My name isn’t April.”

“It is now.” The silent room rings with his laughter. It is so unlike the Mayhem I am used to seeing that I take it all with humor. His laugh is . . . nice. It is smooth and just deep enough to please the ears.
Oh, the miracle of alcohol.
I am April and he has paired me with his affinity for black coffee.
Well, you do drink a shit ton of coffee too.
My intuition parades the tagging with a dramatic walk.

“Hey, you’re the freak who likes black coffee so you should be writing Mayhem love black coffee.” I turn to rebuke Jaewon for his crass humor, but my eyes nearly jump out of their sockets.

He’s taking off his shirt. Mayhem–Yoon Jaewon–is taking off his wet black linen shirt.

The b
ands of muscles wrap around his incredibly disciplined body. Yoon Jaewon is extremely fit, a direct reflection of a remarkable workout regimen. I don’t have enough seconds to count how many abs his stomach packs, but on his tan body the muscles make their marks. He has incredibly broad sculpted shoulders that lead to chiseled arms and biceps. Jaewon’s stamina for speed, sweat, and pain must know no bounds according to his physique. There are tattoos on his back, but Yoon Jaewon keeps them hidden with his body angle.

“You were saying?” Jaewon holds his wet shirt casually.

“Put your shirt on.” I turn my back towards him.

I can hear the smile in his voice. “From the look on your face, I take it you’ve never seen the male physique.”

“I’ve seen plenty and better.” I am lying through my teeth.

“I’m sure April.”

“My name is not April.”

I wait for his smart response, but his silence compels me to turn around.

“Hello?” Jaewon has abandoned our conversation. His cell phone is against his ear. “I’m at the new site. When it stops raining. One second.”

Alas, I am reminded that Yoon Jaewon isn’t just a simple man who can spare an excess amount of time. He is, after all, Mayhem and gang lord to the masses.
His profession will always be his wife.
My intuition reminds me of Grace’s words.

Yoon Jaewon faces me, wary that I am listening to his important conversation. “It’s raining pretty hard. We’ll leave when it stops. Make yourself at home.”

“I want to leave now,” I tell him. “I–”

“Shh.” Jaewon places a finger on my lips. Everything stops for the moment. To Jaewon, it is a simple motion to shut me up, but it does more than shut me up. My heart skips several beats when his finger slides from my bottom lip to my chin and then away.

Without another word to me, Jaewon addresses his phone. “Danny.” Just like that, Jaewon reverts to the cold and distant Mayhem. He leaves the room hastily, eager to finish his conversation. I hear Jaewon’s faint footsteps down the hallway.

Oh em gee.
Did he really just put his finger against my mouth? A thrill shoots through me for some reason. A part of me is now comforted–Jaewon is not the murderer Choi Sangwoo made him out to be. He is not as cold as his reputation makes him to be, but Yoon Jaewon is mercurial and unpredictable.
He made me laugh tonight; he’s like a pain eraser.
The thoughts swim in my head.
He’s far from a pain eraser and you know it! More like a pleasure bringer,
my intuition snickers.

Drunk and exhausted, I sit against the wall and close my eyes. I am well aware that I am resting under the tagging of
APRIL LOVES BLACK COFFEE
. . . . I drift off into sleep wondering why Mayhem is so obsessed with black coffee and when will he come back . . . .

H
MM. THAT FEELS REALLY NICE.
“Five minutes.” I hear him say through my heavy slumber. His hands cup the side of my face gently, guiding my head onto his comfortable and sturdy shoulders. Yoon Jaewon wraps something heavy around my body and the cold disappears. “Sleep,” he tells me.
I like him. I really like him.

A
VOICE STARTLES ME AWAKE.

“Wake up. Wake up.”

I open my eyes to see figures slowly forming together. Bubbles of light and streaks of color come together.
Shit. Where am I?
It takes my memory a couple of seconds to form. Every inch of my body aches. My head pounds like a hammer. My limbs feel numb.

I move to see Yoon Jaewon stirring besides me. His large, Executive black vest falls off me. I have no recollection of even sleeping next to Jaewon, but here I am lifting my head off his sturdy shoulders. The early morning look really does suit him. The rain has stopped and the large, main room is cool. We fell asleep on the floor like homeless people right underneath the
APRIL LOVES BLACK COFFEE
tagging.

“May,” he calls my name.

I blink several more times to realize that it’s not Jaewon calling my name. It is a figure standing a couple of feet away from me. He is angry and impatient for my consciousness to return.

When I realize who he is, I scramble to my feet. “Sangwoo,” I say barely above a whisper.
Stalker!
My intuition releases Jaewon from her hold.

Choi Sangwoo’s brown eyes are dark and hooded. Ren stands behind Sangwoo with the same marred facial expression. “May. What are you doing here with him?” Sangwoo’s voice is horrified and angry. He’s dressed in a gray suit with the front buttons undone; the dark dress shoes he’s wearing contrasts invariably with his ensemble.

What is he doing here? How did he get into the building? I feel my breath leaving my senses behind. “Sangwoo,” is all I can muster up. I haven’t done anything wrong, so why does he make me feel so guilty?

From beside me, Yoon Jaewon stands up. He lets out a yawn and casually
stretches. Thank goodness Jaewon has his shirt on. I vaguely remember him taking it off last night. At the moment Jaewon narrows his dark eyes at Sangwoo as he seethes with antagonism and disapproval.

“Breaking and entering is not something I take lightly Sangwoo.” Jaewon drapes an arm around me and pulls me close.

What is he doing?
My intuition is giddy as soon as Jaewon touches her.

Anger flashes in Sangwoo’s eyes. “So this is what you do now, Jaewon? You steal my assets and treat them like trash on the streets?” Sangwoo sneers at him. There is a no-holds bar to his attack.

Jaewon stiffens at Sangwoo’s remark. “She is not your asset or property to own. And what I choose to do with my potential member is up to me.”

Potential member? Oh no, if this is Jaewon’s plan to thwart Sangwoo’s intentions with me I am beyond screwed.

Sangwoo doesn’t entertain Jaewon’s comment. He steps forward without regard. Jaewon slips a hand into his back pocket. A gun? How has Jaewon managed to hide a gun from me all this time?

Sangwoo stops all movement. His light brown eyes rove over to me. “May, are you okay?”

Jaewon bites his lower lip in anger. I can tell he doesn’t like being ignored. “Of course she’s okay. She’s with me.”

“That’s my concern,” Sangwoo snaps. “I never touched any of your girls, why are you all over mine?”

“Yours?” Jaewon and I retort in unison. At least I am on track with one of the gang lord’s.

This is unbelievable. Choi Sangwoo continues to consider me buyable property. I am wary that Jaewon still has his arms around me.

“She’s not your girl,” Jaewon replies with a firm tone. “She’s my girl.”

“Your girl?” Sangwoo sneers with great disdain. Sangwoo is riveting in his presence; the scorn across his face reflects a dangerous and dishonest man. A man who will tear, rip, and destroy others’ lives to get what he wants.

“You have nothing to claim her. She’s not an asset or a bitch we can fight about,” Jaewon presses on, obviously not intimidated. As though this is a casual confrontation Jaewon continues in that signature unruffled demeanor.