The return flight to Seoul was strictly professional. Bok Soo slept almost the entire way, his mask firmly in place even in slumber. I spent the time reviewing the damage control strategy that Ms. Kim had swiftly emailed—a complex web of denials and misdirections regarding the "eighteen million dollar confusion." My shame was now a documented, corporate crisis.
We landed, and the intensity of the airport chaos reminded me instantly of the high stakes of Bok Soo's life.
Ms. Kim met us on the tarmac. She was sharp, exhausted, and her eyes, usually focused only on schedules, now held a new, unsettling scrutiny.
"The lie held," she stated to Bok Soo, referring to the interview blunder. "But it was sloppy. You've never been sloppy, Bok Soo."
Bok Soo didn't flinch. "The distraction was unfortunate. It won't happen again."
Ms. Kim nodded, then her eyes darted to me. "Peter Bella, you were supposed to be impeccable. A simple currency conversion error? That's unacceptable."
"I apologize, Ms. Kim," I replied, my voice steady. "I have already compiled a ten-point recovery strategy to reinforce the initial marketing outlay figure."
Ms. Kim paused. She didn't look at the files; she looked at me. Her gaze was slow, deliberate, scanning my face, my posture, and my eyes—searching for a flaw she couldn't name.
"You look tired, Peter Bella," she finally said, her voice dangerously even. "And slightly... changed. New York agrees with you."
The implication hung heavy in the air. She wasn't talking about a new wardrobe; she was talking about the confidence, the possessiveness I had gained from his touch, the fire in my eyes from his forbidden kisses. She saw the change the secret had wrought.
Bok Soo, sensing the danger, immediately intervened. He placed a hand on Ms. Kim's shoulder, smoothly redirecting her attention.
"She is efficient, Ms. Kim. And she's exhausted. She performed admirably under duress," Bok Soo said, his voice laced with the cold, professional authority he reserved for his team. "Now, I need a vehicle secured for my private residence immediately. I need twenty-four hours of absolute rest."
Ms. Kim's suspicion didn't vanish, but she bowed to his command. "Of course, Bok Soo. Your residence has been sanitized. I've sent a driver."
We headed to the vehicle. My task was complete. I was supposed to drop Bok Soo off and return to my tiny rented room.
"You will be driven home, Peter Bella," Ms. Kim stated. "Be at the agency at 08:00 tomorrow morning. Sharp."
I nodded, relieved. My mother was recovering, but I desperately needed to see her.
Bok Soo slid into the back of the sleek black sedan. He waited until Ms. Kim had shut the door and walked away before speaking.
He looked straight at me, his eyes dark with a familiar, non-negotiable command.
"Get in," he ordered.
I stared at him. "Ms. Kim said I was to go home. I need to see my family."
"I need you more," he countered, the words simple, possessive, and absolute. "You are my anchor. After the public mistake, I will not be left alone. You are coming to my private residence."
His private residence. The place of absolute secrecy, luxury, and danger. The place where the line between boss and lover would vanish completely.
He leaned across the console and opened the door on my side. He didn't ask. He commanded. His gaze was burning, daring me to choose my duty to Ms. Kim over his desperate, private need.
I knew the stakes: follow him and escalate the secret to a level that might destroy both of us, or refuse and risk losing the only man who had ever made me feel worthy.
I slid into the car, pulling the door shut. The vehicle moved forward instantly, leaving the bustling airport behind. I was now heading toward the greatest danger of all—his home.