XIV.

If Irene had learnt anything from her previous dates with those conceited, snobby yet still very handsome men, the sons of the world’s biggest corporations, the heirs to their father’s throne, it is that, money could get you anything. Well, mostly anything.

Money was the world’s problem and it was therefore just right to believe that having money—loads of it—would solve that. These men Irene had dates with before all came off strong, overly confident. They never had doubts about themselves nor about the situation. They stood tall, back upright, their suits fitting in the right places. Even their scent was strong. Showered in the smell of aftershave, cologne and of course, money. And all these men, apart from dressing the same, smelling the same, had all managed to date, even kiss, Irene Bae. Fashion leader, granddaughter of the business world’s top Madame. The Irene Bae.

So Irene thought that it was right for her to use her money to win Wendy’s heart. Give her countless of gifts, accessories, clothes. Those would sweep her off her feet, surely.

Irene had a plan.

She started with the morning routine of turning up in front of Wendy’s flat, picking her up in the morning with breakfast in a paper bag and cups of warm drinks. At first, Wendy took it. The ride, the bagels, the drink. She even went to watch the sunrise with Irene. But then, the following mornings, Wendy walked away, ignoring Irene, as if she was a ghost, someone who was not there.

The next step, then, was to ease Wendy’s workload. Give her as little work as possible. And if not possible, Irene would then help out with the work. But then…

“Wendy,” Irene called out at one point. Irene was sitting on her cream leather chair in her office. “Why do you do other people’s work for them? I didn’t hire you to be their personal assistant. You’re my personal assistant, okay?”

Wendy stood in front of Irene’s desk, scratching her neck as she said, “It’s because I have nothing to do most of time. I might as well help out and use my time efficiently.”

“Nope. I can’t allow that. I lessened your work load so you can relax. My personal assistant shouldn’t be overworked. It makes me upset.”

Damn that pout. Wendy stayed strong anyhow. “Ms. Bae—”

“Call me Irene. Irene.”

“Ms. Bae,” Wendy insisted. “Please don’t mix your personal feelings with work. It’s not fair for the other employees if you give me special treatment just because you l-l-like—ehem—like me. It makes me feel bad.”

Irene frowned. “Okay...”

Irene moved on to her third plan. This should be the kill, right? She ordered roses and got them delivered to Wendy’s flat. Loads of them. Red roses. Because red is the colour of passion, of desire, of love. Irene was there during the delivery, watching as Wendy opened her door when the delivery person rang the doorbell. She watched as pots of red roses made their way into Wendy’s tiny flat and Wendy’s eyes widening in surprise. As the last pot was put down, Irene came in, a rose in her hand.

“Hi, Wendy,” Irene said.

Wendy in her casual clothes looks so cute! I just want to hug her!

Keep calm, Irene. Keep. Calm.

“Ehem…” Irene held out the rose. “This is for you.”

Wendy stayed still, not accepting the rose. “What’s all this?”

“They’re roses. Representation of my love—for you—they’re all my love for you.”

Wendy looked annoyed. “So are you telling me that your love for me is basically like hundreds of prickly, thorny roses?”

“N-No, that’s not what I meant.”

Irene sighed. Those were the plans. All turning out to be a disappointment. She leaned on her cream leather chair, crossed her arms and grumbled under her breath. “Why must she refuse everything?”

“Refuse what?” Seulgi said, coming in to Irene’s office.

“Everything! Nothing’s working, Seulgi. Nothing is working.”

Seulgi chuckled as she walked over to Irene’s desk, leaning against it afterwards. “What happened to ‘Watch me. I’ll make her mine’?”

“Wendy is being difficult! I’ve never met someone like her before. Just who wouldn’t get moved by a hundred roses?”

“A hundred roses?”

“I sent her roses! I even gave her the last rose and like the cool, chic woman that I am, said, ‘This is for you.’ But she didn’t take it. I even tried to pick her up every morning, bought her breakfast and waited for her outside of her flat, in the cold winter morning breeze—”

“You bought her breakfast?”

“That’s not all that I bought! I bought her a diamond necklace, a gold bracelet, perfume, some clothes—I nearly bought her the world. But she was having none of it.”

Seulgi clicked her tongue. “Are you trying to make her yours by buying her?”

“What? Buy her?!” Irene hit Seulgi’s thigh with her knuckle.

“Owowow. Will you stop the abuse? You keep giving Wendy gifts, buying her things—expensive things. Everything involved money. How is that supposed to win her heart?”

“I’m courting her.”

“That’s your way of courting? Through money?”

“That’s how those guys I’ve dated before did it.”

Seulgi flicked Irene’s forehead. “You idiot. Your grandmother arranged those dates. Did you feel anything for them even after all the gifts they’ve given you?”

Irene thought for a moment. About the many dates she’d been on. Arranged dates. From the many counts and dukes and heirs she had met, most of them had a present for Irene. An earring with a rare gem encrusted on them. A necklace with a 15 carat diamond cluster heart as its pendant. A platinum ring. All costed a fortune. But none of them had ever moved Irene. They had never made Irene feel flutters, sparks, tingles, the way Wendy had made her feel. And Wendy had none of those extravagant gifts for Irene.

Instead, what did Wendy offer?

Nothing else but kindness. How Wendy was considerate of Irene. How she noticed the little things, the things rich people normally di