I woke slowly, the deep, luxurious sleep a shock to my system after months of crippling anxiety. The room was bathed in the soft, morning light filtering through the automated blinds.
I wasn't alone.
Bok Soo lay beside me, his arm heavy and warm, slung possessively across my waist. His breathing was deep, even, and calm—the sound of a man utterly at peace. This was the vulnerable man who confessed his fears and needed an anchor, and in the intimacy of this room, he had found his deepest relief.
I turned my head gently, studying his face. Without the severe makeup, the cold facade, and the glaring lights, he was simply breathtaking. But it was the faint, soft line of worry etched near his mouth that held my gaze—a reminder that his perfection was a performance, and I was the audience of his truth.
He stirred, his eyes fluttering open. The moment he saw me, the ice returned, quick and effective, but it was immediately layered with the warmth of the passion we had just shared.
He didn't speak. He simply lifted his hand and brushed a stray lock of hair from my cheek, his touch tender, yet possessive.
"Morning," he murmured, his voice husky with sleep and a deep, satisfied exhaustion.
I felt a blush creep up my neck. "Good morning, B-Bok Soo."
He smiled—a genuine, dazzling smile that never reached the public. It was a private gift, a silent affirmation of our new reality. He had won the battle for my heart.
He pulled me closer, resting his chin on the crown of my head. "The rules are simple now," he stated, his voice dropping to a low, commanding whisper. "When we are here, in this house, you are my refuge. No debt, no job titles. You are my reality."
He paused, his grip on my waist tightening slightly. "Everywhere else, we are perfect strangers. You are the efficient, cold assistant. I am the untouchable idol. No one can ever know, Peter Bella. Our life depends on this secret."
It was a contract of the heart, signed in silence and heat.
I nodded, the gravity of the secrecy settling over me. "I understand the price, Bok Soo."
"Good." He sat up, instantly shedding the intimate moment. He was already shifting into his professional shell.
He walked to the window, pulling the blinds completely open, letting the harsh reality of the Seoul morning flood the room. "We have a full day of meetings here. Get dressed."
He tossed me a small key—a key to the private, connecting door between our rooms. "Use this. Only use the main door if Ms. Kim is present. And don't leave any evidence."
He was back to being the sharp, pragmatic boss, planning the logistics of our forbidden love like a military operation.
Just as I finished dressing, there was a loud, insistent buzzing from the intercom.
Bok Soo's eyes narrowed instantly. "That's the main security gate. No one is scheduled."
He walked quickly to the intercom screen. His face tightened as he saw the image: Ms. Kim. She stood outside the gate, impeccably dressed, holding a briefcase, her expression one of polite but ruthless determination.
"Bok Soo," her voice was sharp through the intercom. "I know you requested rest, but there's a vital contract amendment that requires your signature immediately. I'm already at the gate."
Bok Soo let out a frustrated, low growl. "She's early. And she's suspicious."
He looked at me, his eyes demanding immediate action. "We have less than two minutes. The bed—"
We scrambled, pulling the duvet back, frantically smoothing the sheets, trying to erase every sign of the shared, intimate night.
"The clothes!" I hissed, grabbing the silk robe and my worn clothes from the night before.
Bok Soo took the items from my hand. He opened a hidden, small compartment in the wall—a safe for storing secrets. He shoved my belongings inside, locking the panel with a swift, decisive click.
He ran a hand over the sheets one last time, checking for wrinkles. He looked at me, his eyes intense.
"Go to the kitchen," he commanded, his voice low and urgent. "Find a chore. Look exhausted, but look professional. Act like you just walked in this morning."
He pressed the release button for the gate. "The show is on, Peter Bella."
I raced out of the master suite and into the vast, gleaming kitchen. I grabbed a mug and started boiling water for tea, my heart hammering against my ribs. I had barely secured the mask when I heard the main door open, followed by the sound of Ms. Kim's sharp heels clicking on the marble floor.