What's Wrong With CEO Jay

Chapter 7

Thirty eight minutes earlier, a convoy of three black tinted limousines along with a team of five bulky, intimidating security men came to pick us at the airport right after we've landed. Mr Jay ordered for a stopover at a boutique where he bought a pair of nude high heels and asked me to wear them to look 'presentable'.

I don't know that converse aren't considered 'presentable' shoes in his eyes, he sounded like we're going to attend some kind of an international grand party and not a product launching event. But now that we're here at Hotel Kyros, I think I understand the language. And why he ordered me to wear those nude heels. Anyone will feel out of place if they come here looking like a rookie or a high schooler in converse.

I'm fast walking my heels across the grey granite floor of the hotel's enormous lounge. There are a fairly large number of people around; some moving, some standing and some sitting on grey couches. But I don't see any woman in a converse which is exactly the point here. I'm thinking that this product launching event may turn out to be a grand party with lots of drinks and red carpets. I've been to like four or five product launching event since starting work as an intern last year. However, I can tell that this won't be similar to the ones organized before. Definitely, because the CEO is attending this one.

I should've wore a gorgeous, strapless red dress and not a black pencil skirt with turtle neck sweater and a blazer jacket. I still feel out of place despite the expensive heels on my feet.

I look ahead only to see that I'm lagging far behind the assembly of shareholders, directors, managers and board members of our company who are actively following the CEO.

I increase my pace. . .

Mr Jay stops before a tall, grand looking double door, craning his neck as he turn to look me, the others also halting their procession and turning their heads to look at what the CEO is looking. Me. Oh my goodness, the attention is becoming too much, I'm trying not to look into their eyes or I may just trip over my leg and fall like a fool. The stupid fool I am.

. . . Sometimes.

As I catch up to the procession, Mr Jay's finger signal me to come to his side and as if I've just debuted to become an idol star celebrity, the assembly parts in two and make way for me as I pass by them nodding and murmuring out nervous greetings. I have a lot of respect for those serous looking, hardworking elders of our company who never wear a smile.

Mr Jay leans close to my ear and whispers; "Keep your chin up, Miss Han. You're my personal secretary." as we walk through the grand double doors and straight into the large, event hall flashing with lights —flickering camera lights.

Noises erupts as photographers struggle to take a good shot, but the security team are doing their jobs to keep them off from crossing their boundary which is a long, white tape stretching up-to the stage where the mic is standing. People are seated in an orderly fashion on rows of red cushion chairs like they're in a cinema.

"Miss Han, please take your seat on the front row over there." Mr Kenny Park says as he points to the first empty row of neat red cushion chairs. I'm about to do as he say, but another mind is hesitating so I look at the CEO wanting to see if he'll notice and give me a go ahead, but he's not looking. He's up on the stage with a mic to his mouth already. The other shareholders, managers, directors and the important people of the company are all posing behind him like smiling wall posters. I don't even know that he'll be giving a speech today.

But I'm at least thankful to him for making me wear the heels, because some ridiculous looking three heads —all ladies with painted faces and bright red lipsticks— are checking out my outfit and shoes with their eyes and no doubt gossiping about me, judging from the way they're looking at me the same time. They're sitting on the immediate row behind where Mr Park ask me to go and sit. Obviously, I'm not 'presentable' enough to stand on the stage which is why I'm being told to go and sit with the audience.

Walking my heels without looking at the ladies, I sit, gracefully like every well nurtured Korean woman is expected to sit. By now, all Journalists cameramen are freed from behind the tape and allowed to roam around, some focusing on the stage and some on the audience. Mic clears and Mr Jay's voice begins speech with formal greetings like a gentleman —as if he isn’t a wolf in a sheep’s clothing!

A person lazily plops himself into the seat next to me, and I feel a warm heat coming off his body along with a faint smell of cigarettes and a citrus shampoo? “Look who's here. Sarah Han, the pushover." The voice says, chuckling, and causing me to flinch as I look to my side. For two seconds, I'm thrown into a temporary madness, feeling my thoughts spiraling and my mind going blank. But even before I can take my second deep breathe, they're back and rushing in full speed.

Long, bony face with sharp jaws, dark bangs falling over and covering his left eyebrow in a bowl cut hairstyle. Double lidded hazel eyes sparkling with curiosity and looking at me in anticipation, straight nose and a small smirking lips — sunbae (senior) Leo, my former high school bully and senior. Gosh, I can't believe this!

"Sunbae?!" I say, softly, widening my eyes. "I can't believe I'm seeing you again after so many years, you look. . . so grown up, I almost didn't recognize you sunbae. Ohmo. . . What are you doing here?" My eyes run down his brown leather jacket with black wool scarf rolled around his neck, a tight, black ripped jeans and a brown timberland boots.

"I should ask you that. I'm here for the product launching event, my agency handled the product shipment from Seoul. I saw you coming in with the CEO of Flamingo, do you work for his company? Whoa, there's no way for me to not recognize you, Sarah, you still look so young and pretty like before." He's touching his chin and smirking at me amusingly. "How long has it been? Almost six, seven years?"

I can see that he still wears a neck chain and an earring on his left ear and he still slips on so many rings on his fingers. He has the same sense of stylish, bad-boy, idol sort of fashion as before. He probably may be the only man dressed in this manner and not caring about the fact that he looks out of place. Leo is never the type to care about 'fitting in' even in high school. He's always been very confident in himself and like. . . f**k the rules.

"Don't make me flustered," I say, smiling and face palming my silly, blushing cheeks with my two hands. "I think its been six years now. I work at Flamingo, I'm really glad we've met again, sunbae. Hope you don't go around bullying others, do you? I ask, jokingly.

Just like his eyes says, I'm also amused by merely remembering some memories of senior high school. He use to stalk me around and cause a lot of trouble. He's like the star bully of our school. But girls use to crush on his good looks.

"Don't embarrass me now, I don't do that childish thing anymore. That was back in high school, long time ago. People grow, change, become descent, you know." I see. I'm lost in the moment talking to Leo Lee, our bodies fully turned and facing each other like the best buddies. It's been so long, I feel like I'm missing high school despite the hell I went through.

“Aha, but sunbae, you called me a pushover. Isn't that a form of verbal bullying?" I arch an eyebrow up, smiling triumphantly as if I've just found an evidence to use against him in court.

"Well, depending on the intention," he says, a half smile lurking around the end of his darkening pink lips —which he probably got from smoking tobacco. "As you can see, I'm only trying to reminisce about the past memories. Our past. . . You use to be a pushover version of Juliet, when I'm your Romeo," his gaze hardens and lowers down to my lips for a flick of a moment, as he subconsciously chew his bottom lip before he quickly looks away, scratching the back of his head. "Urg, was your Romeo, I mean."

I smile.

I'm finding it strange that I don't care whether other people are looking at us or probably not. Leo has become even more handsome that I wonder how many girls must be crushing on him now? They'll definitely triple the number of girls that use to have a crush on him back in our high school days. Jenny used to liked him too, which was why I had to reject him all the five times he asked me out for a date. He use to be crazy in love with me, sweet but a little bit overprotective and jealous. He stole my first kiss back then. . . and now I'm wondering if his feelings for me are completely gone or not completely?

"So. . . Sarah, are you seeing someone?"