Bea’s jaw actually dropped.Dae jang nim. The Boss? Nico and his cohort who had recently left for military service used to call himEl Jefe. Now her cousin had bestowed the same nickname in Korean.The man radiated international kingpin.
“You still owe me twelve dollars from poker at Christmas,” Rafael reminded without missing a beat. “I don’t elevate debtors.”
Bea snorted a laugh.
“I was going to pay you back, but then I remembered you ate the last polvorones after I called dibs.”
“You called dibs on everything,” Rafael said dryly. “Someone needed to end your dessert dictatorship.”
Lavender tulle exploded into Bea’s peripheral vision.
“NunaBea!” The twins bounced in unison, glitter barrettes flashing. “Weloveour dresses. They sparkle!”
“And we’re going to drop flowers gently,” one said.
“And not fight,” the other added, head swinging.
“Show me,” Bea said with a smile.
They demonstrated with imaginary petals and enormous seriousness.
Meanwhile, Joon slid in beside Elias. “Dae jang nim,” he said loudly, “what’s your net worth? Just ballpark.”
Bea’s head snapped up. “Joon.”
Two months ago no one had seemed particularly interested in Rafael’s exact net worth. Now entire comment sections were devoted to it, specifically its impact on their wedding. Bea had made the mistake of reading an article that morning that confidently explained the ceremony would take place on a private island that had been “towed” into position, followed by a reception in an underwater ballroom Griffin Ventures had apparently constructed.
“It’s for my financial literacy, Nuna,” he said, unfazed. “I need to know what’s possible.”
Umma appeared at Bea’s side, orange juice in hand. “Where’sHalmoni?”
A cold jolt of agitation went through her. She’d been in the UR for ninety minutes and her grandmother was lostalready? She scanned the room. Halmoni was four foot eleven on a good day, and prone to wandering.
After tense seconds that felt like hours, Bea saw Halmoni emerge from the kitchen corridor. She had no idea why, unless there was a Korean serving person she’d terrorized back there. Her grandmother swept back into the party like a tiny empress, navy hanbok glinting with gold embroidery, hair pinned severely.
The crowd parted as she headed straight for Rafael.
“Go,” Umma urged. “He’ll need translation.”
“Come with me,” Bea said under her breath, taking her wrist.
Umma shook her head. “It will be worse for him if she thinks I like him.”
Bea hurried. Her two cousins had frozen and then fled when they heard the rhythmic tapping of Halmoni’s cane. Rafael had already set his glass onto a passing tray. He stood still, waiting.
“Do not break eye contact,” Bea whispered as she reached him. His arm immediately pulled her into him by the waist. “She senses weakness.”
Halmoni stopped two feet in front of him and thumped her cane. She scanned him head to toe, twice. The fingers that had been stroking idly at her hip ceased.
There was a moment of loaded silence between them. Then—rapid-fire Korean.
“I’m sorry, I don’t—” Rafael began.
Halmoni talked over him. She pointed at his shoes. His chest. Back at his face. Another stream of Korean, sterner this time.
“She says if you sleep on your stomach, you’re shortening your life expectancy and you shouldn’t put me at risk of early widowhood,” Bea translated quietly. “And she says you shouldn’t undo so many buttons because it makes you look like a playboy.”
Halmoni narrowed her eyes.
