I recognize her as Rose, the daughter of the Kim family.

She gives me a glare and sashays away.

Seriously, what for?

Scott steps out a minute after her, giving me a long stare.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "Is there any problem, sir?"

He cocks his brows at me, still saying nothing.

I stand clumsily, gripping the table for support. "Sir?"

Still silent.

Did I forget to mention that Scott loves to make people guess his mind?

His silence makes me know I have done something wrong, but the problem is I am not sure what.

Is it walking in on him fucking?

Why then did he not send me out?

Is it because I spilled the cheese burger and yogurt?

"Shi- sorry, yes sir. Right away, sir," I say, trying to hurry past him. How could I forget that I was to get a new one for him?

Scott stops me from moving as his cold and large hands grab my arm gently.

I swallow hard.

"Sir?" I squeak.

"You're shivering," he comments, his warm breath fanning my neck. "And your clothes are wet."

For some reason, I feel warmth between my legs instead.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I hate myself for this, because of Scott? Of all people?

"The rain was heavy, sir."

"I see." He still doesn't let go of my arm.

"Sir... I'd like to be on my way..."

"You're not going anywhere," he says, looking at my hair, which I know is a frigid, humid disaster.

And then his eyes drift down to my wet translucent blouse that clings to my lacy red underwear.

I gulp.

"You must be really cold," he continues, still looking. "Your nipples are hard. I hear it can get like that when the weather is gloomy."

Fucking hell.

"Except there's another reason why, Minnie Mouse," he mutters, tucking a strand of wet hair behind my ear.

"This is highly inappropriate, sir," I manage to mutter, taking a step back, forcing distance between us.

Despite the heat in between my legs and the traitorous way my body reacts to his proximity, I know this is a line I cannot afford to cross.

I am going to see him every goddamn day.

That is not what unsettles me the most though.

It is the fact that Jin-hoo prides himself on discipline- rigid, controlled, almost frighteningly composed.

For a man like him to make such an advance, to corner his own secretary like this, something was fundamentally wrong.

Or maybe he was just like every other man, thinking with his dick when he thought no one would call him out on it. And I had always been wrong about him.

"I was simply asking a question," he says, his voice flattening.

I know it is a lie. We both do.

Still, I nod, choosing the safer path. What am I supposed to say? I see through you. You're only pulling back because I caught you.

"It was merely an observation," he adds, eyes unreadable.

"Agreed, sir," I reply quietly.

*****

Deliver Cheese burger to my house.

I stare at the text for a long second and a string of colorful words pour out of my mouth.

I have just gotten to my apartment complex and I'm waiting for the elevator so I can take a shower and sink into my bed after a long and exhausting day- finding relief in the new pink vibrator I just bought.

Scott flashes through my mind. Suddenly, I'm imagining him using it on me.

A ping snaps me back to reality.

It's him of course.

I know you're reading my message Minnie mouse. Do it immediately. With yoghurt too.

So I turn around immediately because going upstairs means not wanting to come back down.

Fuck this man really.

I'm almost like a personal slave.

It's easier to get what I need this time though, because I already know exactly where to look.

Forty five minutes later, I am standing in front of the heavy mahogany doors of his penthouse, and I am seriously considering just leaving the bag of dumplings on the floor and running away.

My body is screaming for a hot shower and the soft buzz of my new purchase, but instead, I am standing in a hallway that smells like expensive cologne. I press the buzzer and wait, and then I hear something heavy hit the floor inside followed by a string of curses that definitely didn't sound like Scott.

The door swings open and I almost drop the bag again.

Scott is standing there with his tie gone and his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal forearms that have no business being that vascular. His hair is a messy disaster and there is a smudge of something dark on his forehead, and for a second, I just stare because he looks entirely too human.

"You're late," he says, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

"I was at my own front door when you texted, sir," I reply, stepping past him into the foyer without an invitation because my feet are killing me and I am officially over being polite.

I stop dead in my tracks when I see the living room.

The sleek, minimalist penthouse that usually looks like a scene from a sci-fi movie is currently a war zone of cardboard boxes and Styrofoam peanuts. A half-assembled bookshelf is lying face-down on the rug, and there are several Allen wrenches scattered around.

"What is... all of this?" I ask, gesturing to the chaos.

"It's a bookshelf, Minnie Mouse. I assume you've seen one before," he snaps, but there's no real bite in it. He looks frustrated, and he actually looks a little bit desperate.

"I know what a bookshelf is, but why are you trying to build it yourself? You have people for this. You have a literal army of people for this," I say, setting the cheese burger down on a marble countertop that is currently covered in instruction manuals.

"I don't have time for 'people.' My grandmother is arriving tomorrow morning," he says, and he runs a hand through his hair, making it even messier.

"She is under the impression that I have finally 'settled down.' She thinks I live in a warm, domestic home and not a glass cage, and if she sees this place looking like a showroom for a bachelor pad, she will stay in New York until she finds me a wife. She needs me to have one before she dies."

I let out a short, surprised laugh, and I can't help the smirk that tugs at my lips. "The great Scott Smith is afraid of a little old lady?"

He turns to me, his eyes narrowing, and he steps into my space until I can smell the faint scent of whiskey on his skin. "She isn't just a lady. And she wants to see a life here that I don't have."

He looks at the apartment, then back at me, and I see a lightbulb go off in his head that makes me want to turn around and bolt for the elevator.

"Stay." he says. It isn't a request.

"Excuse me?"

"Help me finish this. Help me make this place look like a human being lives here. We will go out to buy plants, move the furniture, hide the whiskey-I don't care. Just make it look... warm." He takes a step closer, and his voice drops to that husky register that makes my stomach do that traitorous little flip again. "And then, you're going to help me with the second part of the lie."

I grip my purse tightly. "Which is?"

"She expects to meet the woman I've been 'settled' with. Stay the night to help me fix this mess, play the part of my girlfriend for the weekend, and I'll triple your annual bonus. I'll pay it tonight."

I look at the disastrous bookshelf, then at the man who just hours ago was making my blood boil in the office, and I think about my bank account. Sure I had a lot of money from this job, but I wanted to take a three month vacation traveling around the world in first class so having some extra money wouldn't hurt.

Plus it was just a show right?

His grandmother no longer lived in New York.

Last I heard, she had cancer with only two years to live.

She spent it traveling from one place to another before eventually settling in California.

"Triple?" I ask quietly.

"Triple," he confirms, "Do we have a deal, Minnie Mouse?"

******

Scott is such a good kisser.

Unlike my ex-boyfriend, who often tugged on my lips like he wanted to rip them off.

His grandmother makes a face at us, and I really cannot tell if it's out of disgust or if she's happy about this.

He looks at me so softly-and for the three years I have known him, he has never been soft with anyone. In fact, his expression is usually either blank or icy cold.

With me, there's the occasional pout when I am unable to get something he wants.

I blush and pull back, tucking my hair behind my ear. It should be part of the acting, but it feels so real because I'm feeling butterflies that shouldn't be there.

"I don't see a ring on her finger, though," Lady Jessica says in an observant tone, picking up some food with her fork.

"Well, I have to wait for your verdict before I take such a bold step," he says with a boyish grin.

She huffs. "You always do whatever you want, Scott. I don't think you care about my verdict."

"Of course I do."

"Or you are just not serious with her."

"Grandmother," he says in a warning tone.

"Can you excuse us, Claire?" she asks, turning to look at me. I give a polite smile and stand from the table, walking into the kitchen.

My heart is pounding at a rate of a thousand miles per hour, and my lips are tingling deliciously from the number of times he has kissed me.

"It's just work. Nothing serious," I mutter to myself, but I feel needy as hell. I can't wait to get back home.

I lean over the counter, my mind momentarily wandering to when I used to date Owen.

The relationship was bound to end because, first of all, I had a boss who needed me at his beck and call. Most times, I hardly ever had time to hang out with him or go on dates.

Then the sex was terrible because Owen was a man. And not in the sense that I would rather fuck a woman-I mean, he only cared about finishing, about his own pleasure and not mine. And to be honest, he barely knew how to make a woman feel good.

So I ended up having to sort myself out.

Six months into our relationship, he lost his job and apartment and started living in mine. I didn't care that much about being the sole provider, but it did start to get annoying that he was comfortable not working and not even bothering to look for a new one.

He also became insecure and tried controlling my life, talking about how I was treating him like trash because things got bad for him.

I stayed.

Well, because I kept trying to understand his frustration.

Until I showed up to work one day with a black eye poorly concealed by makeup, and Scott-who needed his overworked personal servant to be in top condition all the time-pried into my life without my permission, and off to jail Owen went.

I had been angry at first, but now-seven months later-I'm grateful.

Something hard presses into me and warm hands wrap around me from behind, crawling up my shirt. I turn to face him and he captures my lips with his.

I pull away immediately. "She's not here."

He says nothing but kisses me again.

"You know, I'm starting to think you're just obsessed with me," I tease, hoping his pride would make him stop because I don't like how I feel about this.

"Hm," he smiles. "You're my girlfriend, aren't you?"

Before I can reply, his mouth is on mine again. I gasp as his tongue slips inside my mouth. I'm melting into him, my hands suddenly tugging at his hair because my lack of self-control decides to take over.

Scott's cold hands slide over my boobs, cupping them and squeezing them gently. One finger brushes over my nipple and I gasp in pleasure and surprise.

It's been far too long.

His groin area, which is hard, presses into me deliciously. The fabric of the jean shorts I'm wearing for the homely feel is causing a lot of friction that feels perfect.

"Ah," I moan, as he presses even harder. I should stop this, but I have zero control over how I feel.

Fucking ovulation.

"Ahem!" Lady Jessica clears her throat in the doorway. I jump away from him like I've been caught doing something wrong-I mean, I have.

My cheeks flame red.

She gives me a judgmental look, or maybe it's just my imagination.

"It was nice having breakfast with you, two," she finally says in an impassive tone after a few minutes of silence. "While I'd like to stay and ask questions about you, I have a commitment somewhere else."

I nod, licking my lips and then biting them softly.

"Have you heard from Rose lately?" his grandmother suddenly asks. "You two used to be close."

Close? Try knee-deep in her pussy yesterday.

But of course, I don't say the words out loud.

"Used to be."

"I always thought it'd lead to something... more positive."

"Like?"

"Marriage, and of course, a business merger. It'll be good for both families."

"I thought you were content with me finding love?"

"Love coming with other advantages instead of just love is often better."

"I'll accompany you out," Scott says, stepping away from me. "Why not ship Rose with one of your other grandsons?"

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

She didn't approve of me, but it didn't matter.

While they're gone, I decide to clear up the dining table and do the dishes. Then I change into normal clothes and get my bag.

As I reach the main entrance, Scott opens the door and sighs while he looks at me. Every inch of what he had displayed before is completely gone.

Seriously, who was I kidding?

It was all for show.

He had definitely known his grandmother would come looking in the kitchen. He wanted her to catch us in the act so it could be even more believable that we weren't just lovey-dovey in front of her.

"You are leaving already?"

"Yes, sir."

"Send me my schedule for Monday. I may have to shift things around."

"Okay, sir. As soon as I get home."

"My grandmother will be staying in New York now," he tells me. "A few blocks down from this penthouse. Where I grew up with her."

"That's lovely."

"With nine months left, she wants to be closer to me." His eyes have a distant look in them and for the first time, I think Scott might be heartbroken.

From what I knew, his parents had died when he was only nine and since then, his grandmother had raised him and his younger sister until death took her away. Now his grandmother was going to be gone, and the other family members he had-cousins, uncles... It was no news that he didn't get along with them.

He blinked rapidly, his face turning normal again. "I would like for this arrangement to continue."

"Huh?"

"We will keep dating... for two months. Then I'll propose to you, and we will get married."

"Huh?"

"Well, she thinks I have found the one and while she wants to dig into your personal life, she is happy I am happy. She wants to die knowing I'm in love, and even if it means lying to her... as long as she's happy."

"I'm your secretary," I deadpan. "Sooner or later, she is going to find out."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "People date at work."

"She doesn't even approve of me, you heard what she said."

"She will come around eventually," he replies, walking past me. "I'll be paying you generously."

"Frankly speaking," I begin, crossing my arms on my chest. "You already pay me quite well. And while I don't have the kind of wealth you do, I live very well above average. In fact, I can be considered rich."

"Well, then you can be richer. I may have money, but I love spending my grandmother's money," he shrugs. "Imagine having to spend my money however you like. Surely, you'd like to get your revenge on me by sending you on ridiculous errands, and you can do that by misusing my card."

"So you do know your errands are ridiculous?"

"Say yes."

"No, thank you," I smile.

"Five million."

"Noooo," I drawl out.

"A black card. And I'll pay for everything you need during that period."

"It's still a no," I sigh. "We work together and honestly, everything that happened today... shouldn't have happened."

"Kissing? That's not a big deal."

Yes. And an intense session on your kitchen counter that I'm still embarrassed from.

"It wouldn't work.

"

"Think about it and get back to me within three days."