Chapter 1 - The Two Seconds He Forgot to Breathe
Grace Miller lifted a tasting spoon and shouted across the stainless-steel kitchen:
“Don’t touch my sauce unless you want to lose a finger!”
Kang Min-jae entered carrying the black reservation card she had left in his private office.
A phone number was written across the back.
Under it were two words.
“Tonight. Eight.”
Min-jae realized the reservation was not for dinner alone.
Grace had never been afraid of Kang Min-jae.
That fact bothered nearly everyone who worked at Haneul.
Haneul occupied three floors of a limestone building on East 58th Street and officially described itself as a private Korean-American dining club. Its waiting list was longer than most Broadway shows. Senators ate there. Actors hid there. Billionaires rented entire floors so nobody could photograph them.
Unofficially, Haneul belonged to Min-jae.
And so did several warehouses, two shipping companies, three nightclubs, a private security firm, and enough secrets to make half of New York nervous.
Men lowered their voices when he entered.
Women stopped laughing.
Employees straightened their backs.
Grace usually asked him to move because he was blocking the refrigerator.
Tonight was no different.
“Left,” she ordered.
Min-jae stood motionless in the kitchen doorway.
Grace pointed the spoon.
“You. Tall, expensive, terrifying. Left.”
One of his bodyguards coughed into his fist.
Another stared at the floor.
Min-jae stepped left.
“Thank you.”
Grace returned to the copper saucepan bubbling in front of her.
She was thirty-one, curvy, soft-faced, and entirely comfortable taking up exactly as much space as she required. Her chestnut hair was pinned into a messy bun that had surrendered several curls around her cheeks. Flour marked one sleeve of her white chef jacket. Her apron was tied crookedly.
She looked nothing like the women Min-jae usually encountered at private dinners.
Those women knew what his watch cost.
Grace cared whether he had eaten breakfast.
They knew his reputation.
Grace knew he hated cilantro stems.
They tried to impress him.
Grace had once slapped a bowl of cold rice onto his desk and said, “If you skip lunch again, your criminal empire is going to be run by a man with low blood sugar.”
That had been the first time Min-jae stared at her as if she were a problem he did not know how to solve.
Six months later, he still had not solved her.
Grace tasted the sauce again.
“Better.”
Min-jae raised the black card between two fingers.
“You dropped this.”
She glanced at it.
“Oh. Thanks.”
She reached for it.
He did not release it.
Grace looked at his hand.
Then his face.
“Min-jae.”
“Who is Daniel?”
Her brows lifted.
Behind Min-jae, bodyguard Park Jun-ho turned his head toward the ceiling.
Grace pulled the card from Min-jae’s fingers.
“How do you know his name?”
“It is written there.”
“So you read my stuff?”
“It was lying in my office.”
“I was bringing you lunch.”
“You left this beside my telephone.”
“And apparently committed the federal crime of owning a reservation.”
Min-jae’s expression did not change.
Grace smiled.
That was another thing about him most people misunderstood.
His face rarely moved, but Grace had become good at recognizing the changes.
A narrowing of his left eye meant irritation.
A barely visible shift in his jaw meant somebody was about to have a terrible afternoon.
A glance at the floor meant he was worried.
Silence usually meant anger.
Tonight, his silence felt different.
Grace wiped her hands on her towel.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve been staring at me for thirty seconds.”
“I have not.”
“Twenty-nine?”
He looked away.
Grace laughed.
The sound followed him when he turned toward the dining room.
Then she remembered.
“Oh!”
He stopped.
“I’m leaving early tonight.”
Min-jae slowly turned back.
“Why?”
“I told Chef Luis.”
“You did not tell me.”
“You’re not my boss in the kitchen.”
His eyes shifted toward Luis, who instantly found something fascinating inside a refrigerator.
Grace grinned.
“I have a date.”
Min-jae stopped breathing.
Actually stopped.
His chest remained completely still.
One second.
Two.
Grace noticed.
Jun-ho noticed.
The sous-chef noticed.
Possibly the lobster in the refrigerator noticed.
Then Min-jae inhaled slowly.
“A date?”
Grace bit back a smile.
“Yes, Mr. Kang. That thing normal people do when they want to meet someone romantically.”
“With Daniel.”
“Daniel Cho.”
“What does he do?”
She stared at him.
“Are you interviewing him?”
“No.”
“He works in architecture.”
“Where?”
“Why?”
“Curiosity.”
“You don’t do curiosity. You do interrogations.”
Min-jae slipped one hand into his pocket.
Grace leaned closer.
“Wait.”
His gaze dropped to hers.
A mischievous smile spread across her face.
“Are you jealous?”
Jun-ho closed his eyes.
Min-jae’s expression became dangerously calm.
“No.”
Grace’s smile widened.
“Oh my God.”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I am not.”
“Your face looks like someone insulted your ancestors.”
“That is simply my face.”
She laughed.
“Relax. It’s coffee.”
“Your card says dinner.”
“Dinner first. Maybe coffee after.”
“Maybe?”
“Depending on whether he’s interesting.”
Min-jae looked toward the reservation card.
Grace tucked it into her apron.
“You really are jealous.”
“You are imagining things.”
“Sure.”
She walked past him carrying a tray.
As she passed, Min-jae caught the scent of vanilla, roasted garlic, and something citrusy from her shampoo.
He did not move.
Grace glanced over her shoulder.
“Don’t commit any felonies while I’m gone.”
Jun-ho waited until she disappeared behind the pantry door.
Then he whispered, “Boss?”
Min-jae looked at him.
Jun-ho immediately regretted speaking.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why did you speak?”
Jun-ho hesitated.
“You stopped breathing.”
“I did not.”
“Yes, sir.”
Min-jae looked toward the pantry.
A metal bowl clattered.
Grace yelled something at a dishwasher.
The corner of Min-jae’s jaw tightened.
“Daniel Cho.”
Jun-ho said nothing.
“Architecture.”
Still nothing.
“Dinner.”
Jun-ho wisely continued saying nothing.
Min-jae walked into the dining room.
He lasted nine minutes.
Then he returned.
Grace was decorating plates with tiny edible flowers.
“What restaurant?”
She didn’t look up.
“No.”
“I asked a question.”
“And I answered.”
“You said no.”
“Correct.”
“I need the address.”
“For what?”
“Security.”
Grace finally looked at him.
“For my date?”
“For you.”
She laughed.
“I have survived thirty-one years without organized-crime security supervising my appetizers.”
“You work here.”
“Yes.”
“People know you work here.”
“Lots of people work here.”
“People know you bring food into my private office.”
“So?”
“So that makes you visible.”
Grace’s amusement softened.
There was something beneath his words she had not expected.
Real concern.
“Min-jae.”
His eyes met hers.
“I’ll be fine.”
He said nothing.
“I promise.”
His jaw tightened.
“Send Jun-ho the address.”
“I’m not sending your bodyguard to watch my date.”
“He can remain outside.”
“No.”
“Grace.”
“No.”
She held up the spoon between them.
“You do not get to scare away the first decent guy who has asked me out in almost a year.”
Something changed behind Min-jae’s eyes.
“The first?”
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
“I am not shocked.”
“You looked shocked.”
“I assumed there had been others.”
Grace stared.
He realized what he had said.
Her expression changed slowly.
“You assumed I was dating people?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You are…”
He stopped.
Grace waited.
“I am what?”
Min-jae had negotiated with men while guns rested on tables.
He had stared down prosecutors.
He had once talked three rival families out of a war in fourteen minutes.
He could not finish this sentence.
Grace crossed her arms.
“I’m what?”
“Approachable.”
She burst out laughing.
“Approachable?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the nicest insult anyone has ever given me.”
“It was not an insult.”
“What was it?”
Min-jae’s phone vibrated.
He ignored it.
Grace waited.
“You are…”
Again, nothing.
Her smile faded into something softer.
Min-jae looked almost uncomfortable.
That unsettled her more than his anger ever had.
Jun-ho entered behind him.
“Boss.”
Min-jae didn’t turn.
Jun-ho tried again.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We have a problem downstairs.”
Min-jae’s entire posture changed.
The hesitation vanished.
The man feared across New York returned in an instant.
“What problem?”
Jun-ho glanced at Grace.
Min-jae noticed.
“Speak.”
“A man came through the service entrance asking for Chef Miller.”
Grace frowned.
“For me?”
Jun-ho nodded.
“He said his name was Daniel Cho.”
Grace checked the clock.
7:04.
“My date isn’t until eight.”
Min-jae’s expression darkened.
“Where is he?”
“Security room.”
Grace tossed down her towel.
“Why is my date in the security room?”
“He was carrying this.”
Jun-ho placed a small black object on the stainless-steel counter.
Grace stared at it.
A tracking device.
Min-jae picked it up.
“Where?”
“Inside his coat.”
Grace’s face changed.
“You searched him?”
“He triggered the detector.”
“He’s an architect.”
Jun-ho looked at Min-jae.
Then back to Grace.
“That isn't what his identification says.”
The kitchen suddenly seemed too quiet.
Grace swallowed.
“What does it say?”
Jun-ho hesitated.
Min-jae’s voice went cold.
“Tell her.”
Jun-ho reached into his jacket and placed Daniel’s wallet beside the tracker.
Grace opened it.
The photograph was Daniel.
The name was not.
Her smile disappeared.
She read the identification twice.
Then a third time.
“Who is Lee Joon-seok?”
Min-jae took the card from her.
For the first time that night, genuine alarm crossed his face.
Grace saw it.
“Min-jae?”
He immediately looked toward Jun-ho.
“Lock every entrance.”
Grace stepped closer.
“What is happening?”
“Grace, stay here.”
“No.”
“Do not leave this kitchen.”
“Tell me who he is.”
Min-jae was already walking away.
Grace grabbed his arm.
The entire kitchen froze.
Nobody touched Kang Min-jae without permission.
Grace did.
“Tell me.”
He turned slowly.
His eyes lowered to her hand.
Then rose to her face.
“He is not an architect.”
“I figured that out.”
“He works for people who have been looking for me.”
“Why would they ask me on a date?”
Min-jae didn't answer.
Grace’s grip loosened.
“Why me?”
A security alarm chirped once.
Then twice.
Jun-ho touched his earpiece.
His face drained of color.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Security room just went dark.”
Min-jae turned.
Jun-ho listened.
Then looked directly at Grace.
“He’s gone.”
Grace whispered, “Gone where?”
Jun-ho reached inside his coat as his phone vibrated.
A new message had arrived.
One photograph filled the screen.
Grace standing outside her apartment that morning.
Taken from across the street.
Beneath it were six words.
TELL KANG WE KNOW WHAT SHE IS.
Grace looked at Min-jae.
“What does that mean?”
Min-jae did not answer.
Then someone knocked three times on the locked kitchen door.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Grace reached for the handle.
Min-jae caught her wrist.
From the other side, a man whispered her name.
May you like
“Grace Miller.”
And Min-jae recognized the voice.
