Lyla didn't sleep that night.
How could she?
After the near-kiss in the hotel hallway—after the way Min-Jae's breath had brushed her lips, after how his fingers had lingered on her wrist like he was memorizing the shape of her pulse—her body felt too awake, too aware, too shaken.
She wasn't supposed to feel anything toward him.
She wasn't supposed to WANT anything from him.
But the memory of his voice—"I don't like seeing you cry… especially not because of my son."—followed her until morning.
By 7 a.m., she stood in the suite's private lounge, reviewing schedules on the tablet he gave her. The room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner. She kept rehearsing one thought:
Focus. Don't let him get to you.
She was halfway through rearranging his meeting calendar when the door opened.
Min-Jae stepped in.
Not the usual polished CEO form.
Not the perfect, cold billionaire she'd spent the first two days chasing.
This morning… he looked undone.
The top button of his shirt was open.
His tie hung loosely around his neck.
His hair looked like he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly—like he hadn't slept, either.
Her heart dropped.
"Good morning, Sir Min-Jae," she said, bowing slightly.
He didn't respond at first.
He stood there, staring at her.
Not with annoyance. Not with corporate detachment.
But with something dangerous.
Something she should not be happy to see.
"Did you sleep?" he finally asked.His voice was deeper than usual—rough, like he had been thinking too loudly all night.
Lyla swallowed. "I tried."
"Tried?" He walked closer, slow, deliberate. "Because of last night?"
Her fingers curled around the tablet. "It was… unexpected."
"You think I didn't know that?" he murmured, stopping directly in front of her.
Her breath caught.
He reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
A soft, barely-there touch.
Yet her entire body reacted.
"Lyla," he whispered, "I should apologize."
She shook her head too fast. "No—it was my fault. I shouldn't have bumped into you—"
"But you did." His eyes lowered to her lips. "And I let myself forget who you were for a moment."
Her pulse skipped.
Forget who she was…?
Who was she to him?
A stranger?
His son's ex-girlfriend?
A girl being manipulated by her father?
Or something else he couldn't name?
He pulled his hand back slowly, as if forcing himself.
"We should start the day," he said, clearing his throat.
"Yes, sir," she whispered.
But he didn't move.
He watched her for a long moment, eyes running over her like he was studying the expression she tried to hide.
Then he finally stepped back. "Tell me the morning schedule."
Grateful for the distraction, she flipped open the tablet. "Your first meeting is with—"
"No." He lifted a hand. "Don't read it. Walk me through it."
She blinked. "Walk you… through it?"
He nodded. "I want to hear YOU explain it. Not the tablet."
"But the tablet—"
"Keep it aside." His tone softened. "I want to see how you plan."
He wasn't testing her.
He was observing her.
For the next twenty minutes, she guided him through the day: the business conference, the private investor dinner, the quick lunch break she scheduled for exactly 17 minutesHe leaned back on the couch, tie loose, arms spread along the backrest, watching her walk the room while talking.
"Your strategy is interesting," he said.
"My strategy?"
"You cross-check timing twice. You reduce wasted motion. You like symmetry." His eyes softened. "You have a very… disciplined mind."
Her cheeks warmed. "I just don't like disorder."
"And who taught you that?" he asked quietly.
She froze.
Her father.
The man who trained her like a tool.
The man who used her beauty, her charm, her damn obedience to manipulate powerful men.
The man who threatened her every time she tried to disobey.
Min-Jae watched her expression shift.
"Not a pleasant topic?" he asked gently.
"No," she whispered.
He didn't push further.
He only said, "Come. Sit."
Her chest tightened. "Sit… next to you?"
"No." Slowly, he patted the space beside his office chair. "Here."
Relieved, she moved—but when she sat down, he rolled the chair closer. Much closer.
Close enough that their knees touched lightly.
Her breath hitched.
He pretended not to notice.
"Do you know why I asked you to be my personal assistant on this trip?" he asked.
She blinked. "Because I was useful?"
"No."
His eyes locked on hers.
"Because I trust you more than anyone in my company right now."
Her throat tightened. "You… trust me?"
"I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't." His voice lowered. "But I do."
Her heart throbbed painfully.
She didn't deserve that trust.
She wasn't here for loyalty or devotion.
She was here under manipulation, under threat, under the weight of a plan she wasn't strong enough to resist.
But the way he said it…
She felt something inside her shift.
Just slightly.
Enough to scare her.
They worked through documents, schedules, and presentations. But every minute felt like a silent battlefield.
Min-Jae didn't touch her again.
He didn't flirt.
He didn't even stand too close.
Yet the tension from the hallway last night lingered like perfume in the air.Every time he leaned over her shoulder, she held her breath.
Every time their hands brushed when exchanging a document, she felt warmth shoot up her arm.
Every time he said her name, her stomach tightened.
"Lyla."
"Sir?"
"You're distracted."
She stiffened. "I'm sorry—"
"Don't apologize." He tilted his head. "Just tell me why."
She stared at the floor. "I'm trying to be perfect."
"And why?" he asked softly.
"Because you hate mistakes."
He froze.
His eyes softened—something like regret flickering through them.
"I don't hate mistakes," he said quietly. "I hate broken loyalties. But mistakes?" He shook his head. "I make them every day."
She frowned. "You do?"
"Oh yes." His lips curved slightly. "For example, I should never have let myself hold you last night."
Her breath caught.
He remembered… in detail.
She forced her voice steady. "Why not?"
He leaned closer. "Because it made me want to do it again."
Her heartbeat crashed in her ears.
Then—his phone buzzed.
He inhaled sharply, leaning back. "Work."
The moment shattered.
He answered the call, slipping back into his cold, sharp CEO tone.
Lyla exhaled shakily and looked down at the floor, willing her pulse to return to normal.An hour later, they rode to the international business forum.
Lyla sat beside him in the car, trying to appear normal.
He typed emails while she checked documents on her tablet.
Silence filled the car.
But their hands rested close on the seat—only a few inches apart.
At one point, the car hit a bump and her hand brushed his.
He didn't move his away.
For a full three seconds, he let their hands remain like that—warm, close, connected.
Then he spoke quietly, without looking at her.
"Don't be nervous today. You're with me."
She swallowed. "Yes, sir."
"And if anyone bothers you," he added, "tell me."
Her chest tightened.
Why did that sound so possessive?
Then he said something that shocked her.
"I don't want what happened with Junho to happen again."
She froze.
He continued typing, pretending he hadn't just exposed jealousy.
Jealousy he shouldn't have.
Jealousy he wasn't allowed to feel.
She turned slightly toward him. "Sir… what exactly happened last night between us?"
He paused typing.
His fingers hovered above the phone.
Then slowly—he lowered it.
And looked at her.
A long, heavy, intimate look.
"Something," he said, "that shouldn't happen again."
Her heart sank.
"But…" he murmured, eyes sweeping her face, "I can't promise it won't."
Her breath trembled.
The car pulled into the conference venue.
Min-Jae straightened, the CEO mask returning instantly.
"Let's go," he said.
But the way his hand hovered near the small of her back—
He wasn't done with her.
Not even close.