1.5 million won.
One night. Her apartment.
He'd accepted within the hour.
Grey was his name. Well… that was the name she found on his profile, Count Your Blessings. A sugar baby site. A place where lonely people with money found lonely people without it.
She'd never been lonely before.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. She'd been lonely her whole life. She just hadn't realised it until her parents cut her off financially and her ‘friends’ eventually evaporated the moment the money dried up, and became a pariah in her family.
She wasn't completely broke—not yet. She had savings. A separate account her parents didn't know about, accumulated over years of allowances and gifts she'd tucked away. She hadn’t decided what she was going to do with the money she saved or why she felt the need to have savings, especially given who her family is.
It wasn’t like something was going to go wrong.
Well, everything went wrong.
The money was gone. The friends were gone. The family was gone.
All that was left was the penthouse—her mother's, really, but she hadn't taken it back yet—and a desperate need to feel something other than empty.
And now she was dipping into that fund to pay a stranger 1.5 million won for one night.
She'd spent the past two days second-guessing herself. She almost cancelled the arrangement a dozen times.
“What the hell am I even doing?” she sighed, pushing her long dark hair back.
She was still young. Still beautiful. She could have any man she wanted with little to no effort, just by her name alone.
But that was the problem, wasn't it?
The men who wanted her wanted the money. The status. The bragging rights of dating the oldest daughter of the Moon family.
At least with this arrangement, there was no hidden agenda. She knew this man was only doing it for the money—spending 1.5 million won for one night is no joke, and he'd be out of his mind to refuse—but at least he was honest about it.
At least that’s what she told herself.
Her therapist would have a field day with this.
The doorbell rang at exactly 8 PM.
That must be him.
She adjusted her lace robe before sauntering toward the door. Annie took a breath. Then another. Her hands were shaking, so she clenched them into fists until the trembling stopped.
She opened the door.
And there he was.
He was taller than she expected. His shoulders were broad under a simple black leather jacket that had seen better days. His jaw was sharp, his features carved and angular. But what caught her attention—what made her breath catch—was his hair. Or rather, the lack of it. A buzzcut. Close-cropped, almost military-short. It made him look severe. Intense. Like a man who had nothing to hide.
His hands, she noticed, were calloused. Mechanic's hands. Hands that knew how to fix things.
But what caught her attention was his eyes. Dark. Deep. Distant. Like he was miles away and you couldn’t reach him.
He was beautiful.
Not in a polished, model way. Beautiful in a real way. Like he'd been through things.
She forced her face into a neutral expression. "You must be Grey."
"That's me," he answered. His voice was a low, quiet rasp—like he'd been saving his words for someone worth using them on. "And you must be Annie Moon?"
She nodded, stepping aside. “Come in.”
He strolled past her into the apartment. She watched him take in everything—the floor-to-ceiling windows showing off the sparkling Seoul skyline, the sleek marble floors, and the pricey art pieces she had inherited but never really cared for. His eyes moved across the room, cataloguing everything. Calculating.
She closed the door behind her and made her way to the kitchen. Grey followed not too far behind her.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she said.
He occupied the empty seat at the kitchen island.
"Nice place," he said. His tone was neutral. Not impressed but not dismissive.
"Thanks." She walked over to one of the cabinets where she stores her liquor. "Would you like something to drink? Wine? Whiskey?"
"Water's fine."
She raised an eyebrow. "Just water?"
"Working tomorrow." He answered vaguely with a shrug. "And I'm not here to get drunk."
She studied him. "Fair enough.”
She took out a glass and walked over to the sink, feeling his eyes on her back. The robe was thin. She knew he could see the outline of her body through it. That was the point.
She returned with two glasses: one filled with water for him and the other with wine for herself.
He stared at her, head tilted slightly, when she slid his glass of water.
She noticed his gaze and raised an eyebrow as she sat opposite him, taking a slow sip of her wine. "Something on your mind?" Her tone was smooth and unreadable, with a hint of something else beneath the surface.
"You're... a lot younger than I expected," he admitted. "I half expected you to be a woman in her thirties or forties. But you don't look any older than twenty-five, to be honest.”
She let out a small laugh, seeming pleased by his observation. "I'm twenty-four, actually. And you're not what I expected either." She examined him more closely, her eyes tracing his features. "I hear most sugar babies are either college students or recent graduates. You look..."
“Older?" He finished.
"Experienced," she corrected smoothly, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “You carry yourself differently than most guys begging for my attention." She took another sip of wine, her gaze unabashedly raking over him. "Twenty-seven, correct?" She didn't wait for an answer, knowing she had read his profile correctly.
His eyebrow quirked. "Good guess."
"Not really," she said with a shrug, putting her glass down with a soft clink. "I’m just saying, a guy your age has some perks compared to a kid who just finished college." She paused for a moment, letting the word 'perks' hang between them. "And, your age is on your profile, too."
He let out a laugh.
"Fair enough," he conceded. "So, why does a twenty-four-year-old even want a sugar baby in the first place?"
"Why does anyone want companionship?" she countered, leaning forward slightly. "I'm surrounded by yes-men and business associates all the time. I have no time for dating, let alone a real relationship, unless my parents set it up." She shrugged elegantly.
"Okay, but paying 1.5 million won for a night, since a bit excessive, don’t you think?" He said. "Wouldn’t you use that money for shopping sprees, going on vacation or even clubbing or whatever it is rich girls your age do with their allowances?"
She laughed softly, shaking her head at his assumption. "And what if I don’t like doing all that stuff? What if I donate my money for charity, invest in businesses or do anything meaningful?” she challenged, fixing him with a piercing look. "I didn't buy you for outings, Grey."
“Then why did you buy me?"
She paused, deep in thought.
"I guess... weirdly, this is my way of being in control?" Annie answered with a question in her tone. "I mean, I've been around so many people who keep me around because of what I can do and give them. At least with this, you're actually honest about wanting to do this for money instead of hiding it."
"And there's something appealing about the simplicity of it," she continued, her voice lowering slightly as if she were admitting something personal. "No games, no lies, no false expectations. Just... a night of companionship with someone who's being paid to be attentive and present."
He studied her. "So you're lonely."
The words hung in the air, sharp and undeniable. Her expression didn't falter, but the small smile she wore vanished, leaving her face carefully blank. She reached for her wine glass, taking a longer sip this time before answering.
"Everyone is lonely, Grey." She replied, meeting his gaze. "Power and money isolate you. You find that people only see what you can give them.
She cleared her throat. “But we're not going to have some deep emotional conversation, are we? I hired you for companionship, not therapy."
"Okay? What kind of companionship are we talking about here?" he sipped his glass of water.
Her eyes sparkled with amusement, happy that he changed the subject. "Mostly physical," she said without thinking twice, getting her confidence back. "But don’t confuse that with just a casual hookup. I want someone who actually pays attention to me. Someone who really listens when I talk, holds me the right way, and doesn’t act like it’s just a transaction afterwards."
"But this is a transaction."
"Everything is a transaction, Grey," she countered smoothly, her voice taking on a harder, more pragmatic edge. "Marriage is a transaction. Dating is a transaction. At least I am honest about the price."
She leaned back, crossing her arms. "I want the intimacy without the emotional entanglement. The boyfriend experience without the messy breakup. You provide the service; I provide the payment."
“For one night?” he asked.
"For one night," she confirmed. "No strings attached, no expectations beyond tonight. After midnight, our agreement ends, and you leave with your money." She leaned forward slightly. "But until then, I expect you to be my lover. My companion." Her eyes held his, challenging him to argue.
There was another pause. "Alright." He got up and walked over to her.
She stayed put as he walked over, watching him with a hungry look. Seated at the kitchen island with her legs crossed, she looked up at him while he stood over her. The vibe changed in an instant; she wasn’t just explaining things anymore—now she was the one in charge. She tilted her chin a bit, giving him a quiet nod to come closer.
He moved closer, offering his hand towards her.
She stared at his hand for a moment, then slowly placed hers in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet. His touch was warm and confident, exactly what she had hoped for—the kind of touch that said he knew his role and was comfortable in it. He wasn't trying to be the man in charge; he was being the man she paid to please.
He pulled her closer, cupping her face with one hand.
She let him, her breath catching slightly at the intimacy of the gesture. Her eyes fluttered closed, her high cheekbones softening under his palm.
"Start slow," she whispered, her voice suddenly much less composed than before. For a moment, she wasn't the powerful CEO daughter; she was just Annie, waiting to be touched by a man who wasn't pretending to love her.
She felt his breath ghosting over her lips as he leaned in closer to her, and her heart rate picked up, her body leaning in instinctively. She wanted the kiss, needed it—the slow, deliberate build-up was driving her crazy in the best way possible. Her free hand came up to rest on his chest, fingers curling into his shirt as she waited for his mouth to meet hers.
He finally closed the distance, pressing his lips to hers softly but firmly. The kiss wasn't rushed or sloppy; it was practised and patient. She melted into him instantly, her hand sliding up from his chest to thread through his hair.
His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him as the kiss deepened. She moaned softly, her body aligning with his naturally. His touch was confident but gentle, his hands resting possessively on her hips without squeezing or groping.
Annie broke the kiss, panting slightly as she looked up at him, her eyes darkened with lust and desire.
"Bedroom," she ordered softly, her voice hoarse with desire.
She needed more space, more privacy, more of him. She needed to feel his weight on her, his body covering hers as he gave her the attention she had paid a fortune for.