JIYONG

Twenty-four hours after taking Dara home, Jiyong found himself headed back to the exact same bar. His attendance at the 30-Under-30 mixer had mostly been an excuse to scope out the terrain. A month ago he had arranged a client cocktail hour at the bar, and tonight was the night of the event.

He had almost completely forgotten about it until his brother, Deukie, reminded him in the final hour.

"Don't you have some sort of reminder system in place?" Kwon Youngdeuk was a Roman sculpture of a man, and about as warm on a good day. He followed Jiyong out of the back-seat of their shared limousine, and paused to confirm instructions with the driver as Jiyong gazed up at the plunging, darkened faces of Seoul Metropolitans' skyscrapers. Everything about the city was suddenly less familiar to him, more hazardous and sharply-edged. Was this how things started to look when you became a father—even an expecting one?

"I'm not like you," he replied. "I don't have Heejung to help keep my schedule."

"First of all, yes you do. Heejung is always hounding you about appointments," Deukie corrected him. "And second of all, I'm the one who has to remind  Heejung of the work engagements she deems non-essential."

"Great. See? I already have two human fail-safes in place," Jiyong concluded.

Deukie sighed through his nose and adjusted his tie, which had already been resting perfectly on his chest. "This was a good idea, at any rate: allowing our clients to network and mingle, all while trying out new brands of alcohol and different catering companies. Thanks for setting it up."

"You're welcome." His relationship with Deukie had always been formal, almost frigid before, and the thaw that they were now experiencing was still new to him. It made him feel pleased, and awkward, and unworthy, to be on the receiving end of Deukie's gratitude. Deukie was the middle brother, and the one who had most taken after their father—not only in his work ethic, but in his interpersonal relations. The fact that he had found any reason to thank Jiyong at all showed just how far they had come in mending fences.

Jiyong's throat clenched at the thought. This was another piece of what he stood to lose if he ed things up with Dara. He had already betrayed his brothers' trust by sleeping with a client's daughter in the past; what would their reaction be now that he had done it again?

God, but Dara was different. Dara wasn't just the forbidden fruit Jiyong had always longed to taste—she was the whole package. Beautiful, intelligent, successful, and, he had previously assumed, immune to his charms. He was the last person who had expected himself to end up between the sheets with her, and it wasn't helping his case that he craved having her again. This baby business should have been occupying the forefront of his brain, but he couldn't shut his primal desire for Dara down, either, no matter how hard he tried. She was all he could think about.

"You should try looking less hungover," Deukie advised as they walked through the bar doors together.

After dropping Dara off last night, Jiyong may have had a few too many. He didn't acknowledge Deukie's reproving remark, but he did turn the wattage up on his smile, and reach up to smooth one eyebrow (and put pressure on a throbbing spot in his temple).

"Jiyong!" A client turned away from one of the caterers to greet him. "There he is, the man of the hour! Come and meet my daughter!"

Oh, Jesus, Jiyong thought, but kept his Stepford smile fixed in place. He charmed every acquaintance new and old as best he could, and shook hands firmly despite the fact that all this cordial jostling was only making his head pound harder. He noticed Deukie raise an eyebrow at him before moving off to make his own rounds.

Not good. Jiyong knew Deukie, and he knew when his brother suspected something was amiss—which was almost never, considering Deukie often struggled to identify and respond to human emotional responses in the first place. His brother was more machine than man sometimes, which meant that his focus on one particular matter that confused him could be all-encompassing, and he wouldn't let go until he had found a satisfactory explanation. If he thought something was off about Jiyong, then he would investigate—and probably enlist  Heejung along the way.

Jiyong was eventually able to excuse himself to the bar for a drink, but the moment a cocktail waitress planted one down in front of him, he knew he wouldn't consume it. His stomach still churned with acid at the memory of last night's bender. He pushed the drink