The silence in the retreat house was not peaceful.
It was charged.
Breathless.
A storm waiting for a single spark to ignite it.
Lyla felt Min-Jae's breath ghost across her cheek, warm against the cold mountain air slipping through the open window. His forehead rested against hers, his body caged around her without touching—almost as if he feared that touching her might shatter the thin thread of restraint he was barely holding on to.
"Min-Jae…" she whispered his name before she could stop herself.
His breath hitched.
It was the first time she'd said his name without "sir."
The first time it sounded intimate.
Forbidden.
Dangerous.
"Say it again," he murmured, voice low, rough, almost pleading.
Her fingers curled against the wall.
She shouldn't.
She knew she shouldn't.
But the truth spilled anyway.
"Min-Jae…"
This time, he closed his eyes.
For a long moment, they just breathed each other's air—two people standing on the edge of something neither could walk away from.
And then…
He stepped back.
Fast.
As if her voice burned him.
"We shouldn't do this," he said, running a hand through his hair. "This is a mistake."
Her chest tightened. "I know."
"No, you don't." His jaw clenched, frustration tightening every muscle. "You don't understand how close I am to ruining everything."
He turned his back to her, inhaling deeply, fighting something she couldn't see.
"Lyla," he said quietly. "Why do you do this to me?"
She swallowed. "I'm not doing anything."
But even she didn't believe that.
Not when her heart raced every time he looked at her.
Not when her body reacted before her mind had time to think.
He finally turned around.
"You make me forget who I'm supposed to be," he whispered.
Her breath shook.
"And who are you supposed to be?" she asked.
He looked at her like the answer was painful.
"The man your father expects to sign a billion-won deal."
Her stomach dropped.
The deal.
Her father.
Her mission.
The temptation.
The truth.
Everything tangled together until she could hardly breathe.
To distract himself—or maybe to protect her from what nearly happened—Min-Jae walked toward the center table and opened his laptop.
"Come," he said, his voice steadier now. "We should work on the financial summary for tomorrow. They'll want the projections before signing."
Work.
Yes.
Business.
Structure.
Distance.
Lyla exhaled shakily and walked to the table.
They sat beside each other, with exactly enough distance to be proper, and yet close enough for her to feel the heat of his presence.
She reviewed spreadsheets.
He typed notes.
They exchanged professional remarks that both pretended were not strained with unspoken longing.
Thirty minutes passed like that.
Silent.
Tense.
Heavy.
Then Min-Jae's phone buzzed.
He frowned at the screen.
Junho.
His son.
Her ex.
Her chest tightened.
"Are you going to answer?" she asked softly.
He hesitated.
Only for a moment.
"No." He placed the phone face-down. "Not tonight."
"Why?"
He didn't look at her.
He didn't need to.
"You know why."
Her breath caught.
At midnight, Min-Jae excused himself to take a shower.
"Don't stay up too late," he told her. "We leave early."
She nodded and returned to the documents.
The house was quiet.
Peaceful.
Dangerous.
Her phone vibrated suddenly.
She froze.
Father.
She reluctantly picked up.
"What did you accomplish tonight?" he demanded.
The venom in his tone made her throat tighten. "We're working, father. I'm assisting him with the projections."
"That's not what I asked." His voice sharpened like a blade. "Did you get closer to him?"
Her chest burned.
"I'm doing my job—"
"No," he snapped. "Your job is to seduce him. The deal is already secured. I need the billion-won contract. Don't forget what's at stake. Don't forget I own your future."
Her hand shook.
She hated him.
Hated that he held the power to twist her life like this.
Hated that she had to lie tonight.
"We're… making progress," she whispered.
He laughed darkly. "Good. Do not disappoint me. And don't forget—the older brother arrives in a few days. You're going to need him too."
Her blood ran cold.
"W-What do you mean?"
"Oh, you didn't know?" he sneered. "The young master will be part of the signing ceremony. And rumor says he's returning early."
Her breath stopped.
The young master.
Jinhyuk.
The one she hadn't met yet.
The one her father wanted her to use next.
Her heart twisted painfully.
"I don't want to do this anymore," she whispered, for the first time letting the fear crack her voice.
"Then you're useless," he spat. "And I have no reason to keep protecting you."
The line went dead.
Lyla stared at the phone, cold all over.
Her father's words echoed like poison in her mind.
Use Min-Jae.
Use Jinhyuk.
Seduce whoever necessary.
Get the money.
Her body trembled.
She hated this life.
Hated this mission.
Hated her father for trapping her.
Hated herself for falling for the very man she was supposed to destroy.
She wiped her tears quickly when she heard footsteps.
The bathroom door opened, and steam floated out.
Min-Jae appeared in a black robe, hair damp, skin still warm from the shower.
He froze when he saw her face.
"Lyla?" His voice softened, eyes darkening with worry. "Were you crying?"
She shook her head too fast. "No, sir. Something got in my eye."
He stepped closer.
"Don't lie to me."
She swallowed hard.
He lifted his hand and hesitated—before gently touching the corner of her eye.
Her breath trembled at the tenderness.
"Tell me who upset you," he murmured.
She nearly broke right there.
"It was nothing," she whispered.
His fingers grazed her cheek.
His voice dropped, filled with something she couldn't name.
"If someone hurt you… I will handle it."
Her heart twisted painfully.
He meant it.
He truly meant it.
And that was the exact reason she couldn't tell him.
She forced a small smile. "I'm okay."
He didn't believe her.
But he didn't push.
Instead, he sat beside her at the table again.
"Let's finish the projections."
Work.
Distance.
Distraction.
But this time, the distance died faster.
Their hands brushed.
Her breath hitched.
He looked at her.
She looked away.
He leaned in slightly.
She leaned back.
But the air thickened again, charged with longing and restraint.
It happened suddenly.
A thunderstorm cracked outside—a sharp boom echoing across the mountains.
Lyla jumped, startled.
Min-Jae immediately touched her arm.
"Are you afraid of thunder?"
She nodded, embarrassed. "A little."Lightning flashed, bright enough to illuminate the entire house.
She flinched.
He stood up slowly, offering his hand.
"Come," he said softly.
"Where?"
"Somewhere quieter."
She hesitated—but took his hand.
He led her toward a smaller room at the back of the retreat house—warm, filled with soft lights, lined with bookshelves.
A private study.
Safe.
Quiet.
And too intimate.
The storm rumbled again, deeper this time.
She tensed.
Without thinking, Min-Jae pulled her gently to him.
Not an embrace.
But close enough that her palms rested on his chest.
Her eyes widened.
"Min-Jae…" she whispered.
His breath caught.
Lightning flashed again.
She trembled.
He exhaled deeply—like he had been fighting this moment for too long.
"Lyla," he said softly. "I can't pretend anymore."
Her heartbeat thundered louder than the storm.
"I don't want to pretend either," she whispered shakily.
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if battling himself.
Then he whispered:
"Tell me to stop… and I will."
She didn't.
She couldn't.
Silence stretched.
Her breath hitched as his hand slowly rose to cup her cheek.
She didn't push him away.
She leaned into it.
Just a little.
Just enough.
He inhaled sharply, losing the last of his restraint.
"Lyla…" he murmured.
Her name in his voice felt like a confession.
But just as their lips hovered a whisper apart—
The door slammed open.
Lyla jerked away.
Min-Jae stiffened.
Standing in the doorway—
Dripping rain.
Breathing hard.
Eyes blazing.
Junho.
Her ex.
His son.
"What the hell is going on here?" Junho demanded, voice shaking with fury.