Chapter 22
Seoul, Korea
Snowdrop Suite
Of course, as in every spy movie, the bad guy would be a gorgeous, knee-weakening, breathtaking, specimen of rudeness.
Why wouldn’t he be?!
“You are staring,” Kita pointed out, annoyance more than evident in his tone.
And his rudeness and attitude snapped Rain back into the moment, and clearly painted him as the villain in her story.
Rain nodded. “Yes, I am. It is rather hard not to. But at this point I would honestly contemplating eat anything, biological weapon or rude bodyguard even,” she informed him, making a mocking face.
Kita cocked a thick eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. “I would not suggest trying to eat me in a cannibalism sense,” he said, and she snorted. “And you would not searching for a helpless victim to shoot between the eyes with your finger gun or biological weapons to sample if you would not have stayed in your room pouting when the others went to eat,” he reminded her.
Rain glared at him. “I was not pouting,” she informed him, trying to keep her voice down.
Yes, she was pouting and they both knew it.
“Apparently they call it something different in South Korea,” Kita said.
“I was not in a good place mentally and would have been poor dinner company,” she informed him. “Thus I was being the bigger person by sacrificing my needs for the well-being of my cousin and your kin.”
To her surprise, Kita nodded his understanding or agreement, she could never tell which it was with him.
“Sainthood awaits you, Little Girl,” he informed her. “Humility should have been your stage name.”
Rain’s nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed, hands clenched into fists, and she fought the urge to give him a piece of her mind.
That response Kita wasn’t expecting, and it clearly showed he crossed some line he was unaware of.
“So no to the Sainthood,” he surmised.
Rain wasn’t amused or in the mood to play his games.
She was way to hungry at the moment, and the risk of sinking her teeth into his muscular ass was growing greater by the second.
“There is no food, but there is a kitchen,” she stated the obvious instead of defending herself and rebutting his comment, or admitting she was wondering what it’d be like to bite him in the butt out of curiosity before hunger.
“Is there a question associated with that statement?” Kita asked when she left it at that and continued eye him from the waist down.
It was a struggle, but she kept from screaming in frustration so she didn’t wake the others.
“Give me a key to this prison,” Rain said, holding her hand out, expectant.
Kita crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her apathetically. “No.”
Rain’s stomach growled, loudly, stealing his attention.
“Are you smuggling a wild animal in there?” Kita asked, amused.
Her nostrils flared in anger. “No. I want to get something to eat and I cannot do that without a key to the elevators,” she said as if it were obvious.
“That is true, but the answer is still no.”
“So out the window you want me to go?” she asked, heading over to the windows. “Is this how I get out?”
Kita shrugged. “If you like. We are twenty-eight stories up so it will most certainly kill you before hunger or digesting biological weaponry can. And it would be much faster than the elevator. But if that is your wish,” he said indifferently, waving towards the windows. “I shall not stop you.”
Was that a sense of humor surfacing?!
“Why are you such an insufferable jerk?” Rain demanded; his jerkiness was running parallel with his questionable sense of humor, and Rain hated to admit she liked it. “You would truly rather watch me fly out the window to my death then to simply give me a key to the elevators?!”
“Fall, not fly,” he corrected.
“What?” she asked, confused.
“You would not get enough speed before jumping in order to get lift or propulsion which would constitute flying, as short as that flight may be before the fall. Thus, if you took the windows instead of the elevator it would be a fall to your death or a flight.”
Rain gave him a look. “What is wrong with you?”
“I have been asking myself that since taking on this ridiculous and belittling assignment,” Kita admitted.
She nodded, struggling to bite her tongue.
“If you are trying to get fired on your first day, you are going about it all wrong,” she informed him after a stretch of silence.
“Am I now?” he asked, amused.
“You are. If you want to get fired, you have to try much harder than this,” Rain informed him rather smugly and with a smile. “I have worked with unimaginably intolerable jerks for years. Leading men that think because we kiss on screen that it means they get to between takes. Women that smile and pretend to be your best friends to your face just to stab you in the back when you are not looking, or they steal your fiancé on national television. Family that turned their back on you and their own son and husband simply because you are still breathing… So, as you can see, Mr. Yasuhiro, I can tolerate more than you are capable of dishing out.”
Kita looked contemplative. “Is that a challenge, Little Girl?”
“I know you well enough to know that you will take it however you want because that is the type of insufferable jerk you are,” she retorted, not missing a beat. “But if you want to keep your little sister and baby brother from giving their input on the matter, I suggest you get that smug smirk off your face and free me so I can eat before I make a scene.”
He wasn’t smirking before, but he was now.
Seon Rain just got slightly more interesting.
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