Title: The New Normal
The jet's landing gear lowered with a mechanical groan, tearing the silence apart. The sudden shift in pressure was a painful physical reminder that the fantasy was over. We were landing in New York, and the perfect idol was returning to his public stage.
Bok Soo pulled back, not gently, but with a sharp, controlled effort. He was instantly back in his suit, his face a flawless mask of cold control. The primal hunger in his eyes was replaced by the familiar, arrogant ice.
He didn't speak a word about what had just happened in the private compartment. He didn't look at my swollen lips or my trembling hands. He simply picked up his discarded shirt and adjusted the cufflink, every movement precise and detached.
"My briefcase, Peter Bella," he commanded, his voice crisp and professional. "Finalize the hotel transport details with the pilot. We have five minutes before the ground team boards."
I scrambled, my body heavy with the aftermath of his devastating touch. I zipped up my dress, trying to smooth my messy hair, feeling the cold weight of the contract settle back onto my shoulders. He had used me to chase away his anxiety and satisfy his desire, and now, I was back to being the invisible, debt-ridden assistant.
As I rushed to the front of the cabin, he walked past me. He paused, his presence radiating a fierce, possessive authority that only I could feel.
"The rules haven't changed," he murmured, his voice too low for anyone but me to hear. "You saw nothing. You felt nothing. That was simply a discharge of necessary pressure, understood?"
It was a cruel, necessary lie. He was twisting the deepest intimacy I had ever known into a clinical transaction to protect his perfect image.
"Understood, Bok Soo," I managed, using his private name for the last time before facing the outside world. The name felt like a secret bruise.
His lips twitched into the slightest, cold smile of triumph before he turned his back on me.
The door opened, letting in the cool New York air and the sudden rush of people. Ms. Kim boarded first, followed by two security guards. She immediately started rattling off instructions, blind to the intense, illicit secret vibrating between us.
Bok Soo was flawless. He greeted the manager, discussing his schedule with smooth confidence. He was the unattainable idol again.
My first task on the ground was to collect his garment bag. I reached into the sleeping compartment—the scene of our frantic, silent surrender—and pulled out the heavy bag. As my fingers brushed the silk duvet, a raw surge of longing hit me.
I turned, pulling the bag, and nearly walked into Bok Soo. He was standing just outside the compartment, pretending to check his phone, but his eyes were fixed on the bag I was carrying.
"Ensure the suit is steamed immediately upon arrival," he instructed, his eyes never leaving the phone screen.
As he said the word "suit," his hand reached out and lightly, quickly, brushed his thumb across my lower lip.
It was a barely-there touch—a silent, possessive reminder that he knew exactly how swollen and bruised my mouth was, and he knew exactly why. It was a secret kiss, a public claim hidden in a professional gesture.
The heat rushed to my face. I stumbled back slightly, overwhelmed by his audacity.
He looked up from his phone, a flicker of that intense, private desire in his eyes.
"Problem, Peter Bella?" he asked, his voice sharp with professional impatience.
"N-no, Mr. Kang," I stammered, gripping the bag tightly. "Just a long flight."
He nodded curtly and walked toward the waiting car. He had effectively created a new normal: a high-stakes, public relationship defined by professional distance on the surface, and explosive, forbidden intimacy in every hidden moment.
The anxiety about my mother was now mixed with the crippling fear of falling irreversibly in love with the cruel, beautiful man who held my future—and my heart—in his demanding hands.