a sleepy morning, a charity gala, a reality check.
Minjeong wakes slowly to warmth.
Not sunlight, no, this was something heavier. Solid. Breathing.
For several long seconds, she remains suspended somewhere between sleep and consciousness, eyes still closed as the unfamiliar sensation settles around her. Warm breath against the back of her neck, an arm wrapped loosely around her waist. A steady heartbeat beneath her shoulder blades.
Then the memory hits her all at once.
Oh.
Right.
The room is quiet except for the slow rhythm of his breathing behind her. His arm tightens instinctively when she shifts ever so slightly, pulling her back against him with the unconscious ease of someone still half asleep.
Minjeong stares blankly at the city skyline beyond the bedroom windows for a long moment, suddenly hyperaware of every point of contact between their bodies. Something about it feels infinitely more intimate than anything they’d done last night.
Sex was one thing.
This?
This was scary.
Because sex could be temporary. Self-contained. A moment of weakness disguised as pleasure.
But this kind of domesticity? That put Minjeong on edge.
Minjeong had spent years convincing herself she preferred sleeping alone. The silence, the space, the entire bed to herself.
Yet now, lying here with his warmth wrapped around her so naturally, the absence of solitude feels alarmingly easy to get used to.
A terrifying thought.
Behind her, he exhales softly against her neck before mumbling something entirely incoherent into her skin. Minjeong waits, wondering if she’d imagined it. Silence. A few more seconds pass before he mumbles something again, equally unintelligible.
Her brow furrows.
“Were those words?”
His arm tightens around her waist again as a low groan vibrates through his chest. “Probably,” he mumbles.
Minjeong stares at the skyline. Still dark enough that the city glows more than shines. The buildings looked smaller from up here. Distant. Manageable. Unlike the situation currently unfolding in her bed.
Because this was becoming a problem. Not him. Him, she understood. Charming, attractive, and funny. Entirely too good at making her laugh.
The problem was how easy this felt. How natural it all was.
Behind her, she feels him wake incrementally. A shift of his shoulders, a quiet sigh. The way people woke up when they had nowhere important to be.
“Why are you awake?” he asked, voice rough with sleep as he brushed his nose against her back.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I was asleep.”
“You literally just spoke.”
“Yeah.” Another yawn. “In my defence, I wasn't conscious for most of it.”
A reluctant smile pulls at her mouth.
Silence settles again. Comfortable in a way that Minjeong hates immediately. She couldn't remember the last time silence with another person hadn't felt like work. Usually there was something to perform. Expectations. The careful balancing act of making yourself desirable without becoming vulnerable.
But lying here, listening to his breathing behind her, Minjeong found herself doing absolutely nothing.
And somehow that felt even scarier.
“You know,” he says eventually, voice still half buried in sleep, “most people cuddle back.”
Minjeong closes her eyes.
“Most people aren't me.”
“That’s true.”
“Thank you.”
“You're significantly meaner.”
She lets out a quiet scoff. His laugh follows immediately.
A moment later, she feels lips brush lightly against the bare skin of her shoulder. Not a real kiss, a sleepy one. The kind people gave when affection had become instinct instead of intention.
Minjeong immediately stiffens.
Which, unfortunately, does not go unnoticed.
“Wow,” he murmurs against her skin. “That bad, huh?”
“You just kissed me.”
“I know.”
“You did it very casually.”
Another kiss.
This one lands slightly higher on her shoulder.
“Sorry,” he says, sounding not remotely sorry.
Minjeong closes her eyes.
Behind her, she feels him shift slightly closer.
“You called me baby while pulling my chain like a dog leash,” he points out reasonably. “I think we're past pretending now.”
“Shut up, you idiot.”
His laugh rumbled softly against her shoulder. There was no comeback this time. No smug remarks, no teasing. Just a sleepy exhale as he buried his face slightly deeper into the crook of her neck. And somehow, that felt worse.
Minjeong found herself staring out of the window again. The sun hadn't fully risen yet, the city still existing in that strange limbo between night and morning, all muted blues and scattered gold lights. Soon enough, Manhattan would wake properly. Phones would start ringing. Emails would arrive. Meetings would demand her attention, reality would return.
For now, though, it was just this.
His murmuring voice broke through her thoughts.
“Your bed is nice,” he mumbled.
Minjeong blinked.
“That's really what you're thinking about right now?”
“Mm.”
A pause.
“Way comfier than mine.”
“I'm relieved you've identified your priorities.”
A quiet hum leaves him.
“I’m serious, you know.” He shifts slightly behind her, tightening his arm around her waist again. “Your pillows are better too.”
Minjeong lets out a disbelieving laugh.
“My pillows.”
“Mhm.”
“Of all the things you could be complimenting right now.”
“I already complimented you yesterday.”
“Lucky me.”
His laugh rumbles softly against her shoulder.
Silence settles in the room again, the sun beginning to rise outside.
Minjeong felt him tracing lazy patterns against her stomach with his thumb.
“You know,” he murmurs eventually, voice quieter now, “I like it here.”
Slowly, Minjeong turns her head just enough to glance back at him. His eyes are still half closed with sleep, hair sticking up in every direction, cheek pressed against her shoulder.
And somehow, he looked younger like this. Not in age, in disposition.
Unarmed.
Minjeong studied him for a moment longer before looking away first.
“That’s because you don’t have to pay the mortgage.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
“I knew there'd be a catch.”
“There’s always a catch.”
His thumb continued its lazy path against her stomach.
“I meant what I said, you know,” he said again, softer this time.
She knew he wasn't talking about the apartment anymore.
Minjeong stared out at the slowly brightening skyline.
“We should probably get up soon.”
Neither of them moved.
He kissed her shoulder again, and for the first time in a very long time, Minjeong found herself smiling before she could stop it.
Minjeong almost missed the email.
Buried between acquisition proposals, shareholder reports, and three separate messages marked urgent that absolutely were not urgent, sat a calendar invitation.
The Primose Foundation Annual Gala
Saturday — 7PM
Minjeong stared at it and sighed. The gala wasn’t technically a mandatory event, but it might as well have been. Investors, senior partners, high profile clients. She accepted the invitation before she could talk herself into feigning a serious illness.
Three minutes later, her phone buzzed.
Minjeong immediately knew who it was.
She'd made the mistake of giving him her number after all.
hows ya day going?
Terribly
lawyer terrible?
or actual terrible??
Lawyer terrible
thoughts and prayers 🙏
Minjeong rolled her eyes.
I have a gala this weekend.
the fancy kind?
Unfortunately.
is there an open bar?
Most likely.
sounds pretty cool to me.
You're the first person in history to describe a charity gala as fun.
that's because everyone else attending is old!
Minjeong snorted softly.
Her phone buzzed again.
wait.
are you bringing someone..?
Minjeong blinked.
Why would I bring someone?
The typing bubble appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Which immediately made her suspicious.
no reason 😃
Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?
once or twice
Minjeong leaned back in her chair, small smile pulling at her mouth.
What are you plans this Saturday?
nothing at all
totally free
Are you hoping I’ll invite you to my gala?
uh
maybe…?
is it working?
Minjeong laughed to herself.
You know.
Most people wait longer before asking someone to meet their coworkers.
this isn't meeting coworkers…
it's a charity gala!
That's significantly worse.
exactly 😌
so… what do I have to wear?
I haven’t invited you yet.
yeah but u were totally going to. so, full monkey suit?
Saturday arrives far too quickly for Minjeong's liking.
This was a terrible mistake. A catastrophic lapse in judgment. Because bringing a twenty-something man she'd met in a bar to a charity gala filled with judges, politicians, senior partners and investors felt suspiciously similar to detonating a bomb in the middle of her professional life.
The fact that she couldn't stop smiling every time she thought about it only made it worse.
At six thirty-three, her intercom buzzed.
Minjeong closed her eyes briefly. God help her.
"Come up."
The elevator ride gives her exactly thirty seconds to regret everything.
By the time the knock comes at her apartment door, she's already rehearsed at least seven different speeches about appropriate behaviour.
None of them survive the moment she opens the door.
Oh. Well. That was a problem. A very attractive problem.
Standing in her entryway beneath the warm lighting, tuxedo perfectly tailored and bouquet in hand, he looked less like a reckless decision she'd met in a bar and more like someone who belonged in her life.
For a moment, Minjeong simply stares.
His mouth twitches.
"Miss Kim." He offered her his arm.
He spent the entire drive to the gala trying very hard not to stare. Something that seemed to prove to be incredibly difficult. Because Minjeong looked absurd.
Black dress, elegant enough to belong in a room full of politicians and judges, dangerous enough to make concentrating impossible.
A serious problem.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
His head snaps toward her immediately.
“Like what?”
“Like you've forgotten how language works.”
“I have forgotten how language works. I’m surprised I’m even speaking right now.”
Minjeong rolls her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitches.
“Pull yourself together.”
“I’m trying.”
“You’re failing.”
“Spectacularly.”
A soft laugh escapes her.
He settles deeper into his seat and stares out the window before he embarrasses himself further.
The gala venue comes into view a few minutes later.
Tuxedos, gowns, camera flashes. An old money kind of affair, with marble columns, valet parking and chandeliers that were bright enough to power the entirety of the city.
He suddenly understands why Minjeong had been nervous.
This is her world. Her real world outside the bars, lazy Sundays and late-night taxis.
Something in Minjeong changes as soon as they get out of the car. Her posture shifts, her expression becomes more polished. A side of herself she showed to the world, but he was yet to see.
Within minutes, people started approaching her. Partners, investors, judges, board members. Some of the city’s finest, and they all seemed to know her. And they all wanted a piece of her attention.
She was good at it. Maybe too good.
He watches her navigate conversations the same way he'd watched her dismantle him over drinks. Effortlessly charming, sharp, controlled.
An older man approaches them first. Silver-haired, expensive watch, unmatchable aura. The kind of guy who probably owns an island and calls it an investment.
“Kim Minjeong.”
The man's face lights up.
“Always a pleasure.”
“Likewise.”
Her smile is perfect, professional, and warm. Rehearsed. Just enough to make him feel important.
The man laughs at something she says moments later.
Then another person joins. Then another. And suddenly she's surrounded.
Watching her work is fascinating, but also deeply annoying. Because she keeps touching people. Not intentionally or flirtatiously. Professionally.
A hand on an arm, a brief touch to a shoulder. A smile held half a second longer. Eye contact that makes people feel like they're the only person in the room. Networking at its finest. He can’t help but look away, feeling an irrational anger settle over him.
He needed to get a grip.
“Having fun?”
The voice startles him.
He glances sideways.
Minjeong stands beside him again holding two champagne flutes. One eyebrow raised, a small smile on her lips.
“I’m having an absolute blast,” he replies, accepting the drink.
“You’re an even worse liar in person.”
A laugh escapes him.
"I didn't realise quite how terrifying you were, Miss Kim."
A slow smile pulls at Minjeong’s mouth.
“You’ve only just noticed?”
“What can I say?” He takes a sip of champagne. “You hid it surprisingly well.”
“I’m a lawyer.”
“Yeah, but I thought that was mostly paperwork and emotionally devastating emails.”
Before she can reply, a familiar voice cuts through the conversation.
“Kim Minjeong.”
A woman in her fifties approaches, champagne flute in hand, silver-blonde hair swept neatly away from her face. The kind of woman who looked expensive without ever needing to prove it.
Minjeong's posture straightens almost imperceptibly.
“Elizabeth,” she says warmly.
The older woman smiles before her attention shifts toward the man standing beside her. One perfectly groomed eyebrow lifts.
“Well.”
Immediately, Minjeong feels trouble approaching.
Elizabeth’s smile widens.
“I didn't realise you had a partner, Minjeong.”
The words land like a grenade.
Beside her, he goes suspiciously still.
Minjeong nearly chokes on her champagne.
“We're not-”
“Uh huh.” Elizabeth looks between them, unconvinced.
The interruption only makes things worse.
Because he is still standing beside her, far too close. Close enough that anyone looking at them would immediately notice the easy familiarity between them. The way he'd unconsciously angled his body toward hers, occupying her space. The way Minjeong hadn't once stepped away.
Elizabeth's smile becomes downright dangerous.
“How delightful.”
“Elizabeth,” Minjeong says flatly.
“What?”
“You know exactly what you're doing.”
“I have no idea what you mean, Minjeong.”
The lie is shameless.
Elizabeth turns toward him again.
“I'm Elizabeth Primrose.”
He introduces himself politely, offering a handshake, which only makes Elizabeth’s smile grow bigger.
“Oh, he's charming too.”
Minjeong closes her eyes briefly.
Good God.
“I'm standing right here.”
“I know.”
“Then please, stop.”
Elizabeth ignores her completely.
“So,” she says conversationally, “how long have you two been together?”
“Elizabeth.”
“What?”
“We're not together.”
Elizabeth glanced between them.
Then toward the hand resting on Minjeong's champagne flute.
Then toward him.
Then back to Minjeong.
“Right.”
The single word contains approximately twelve different levels of disbelief.
Beside her, he suddenly coughed suspiciously into his drink.
Minjeong shot him a look.
He immediately looked away.
Traitor.
Elizabeth noticed everything. She always did.
“I must say,” she continued pleasantly, “it's nice to finally meet someone capable of dragging Minjeong out of the office.”
“Elizabeth.”
“She practically lives there.”
“Elizabeth.”
“I once found her reviewing contracts at her own birthday dinner.”
His laughter escaped before he could stop it.
Minjeong turned slowly toward him.
“Careful.”
“Sorry.”
He wasn’t even remotely sorry.
“Oh, I like him,” Elizabeth beams.
The two of them exchange a look, one Minjeong hates immediately.
Elizabeth takes a sip of champagne.
“Well,” she says eventually. “I won't monopolise you two all evening.”
Thank God.
“But,” she adds casually, “if you ever get tired of her pretending she doesn't have feelings, do let me know. We've all been trying to fix that for years.”
“Elizabeth.”
The older woman laughs.
“Enjoy your evening, Minjeong.”
Then, after a brief pause, she looks directly at him.
“Good luck. She’s a handful.”
And walks away.
A long silence settles between them. As she stares into her champagne, Minjeong can physically feel him trying not to laugh beside her.
“Don't.”
“I didn't say anything.”
Minjeong looked at him, the smile he was fighting immediately giving him away.
“Not. One. Word.”
His grin widens.
“Partner?”
“I'm leaving.”
“You can't leave. It's your gala.”
“Just watch me.”
His laughter followed her across the ballroom as she walked away, warm and impossible to ignore. And somehow, despite her best attempts to hide it, Minjeong felt her own smile threatening to surface.
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