Chapter 12

LISA POV:

Lisa had spent the last two hours of the party perfecting the art of “Strategic Spite.”

It was a very specific skill. It involved holding a glass of vintage champagne she didn’t actually want, standing in a room full of people she didn’t actually like, and making sure everyone—especially Minho Park—knew that Jennie Kim was currently off-limits.

Which was a ridiculous thing for her to be doing.

Technically, Jennie was “off-limits” because of a multi-billion dollar contract signed in expensive ink. But as Lisa watched Jennie glide across the room, she knew that wasn’t why her hand was currently itching to return to Jennie’s waist.

The party was a blur of high-fashion sharks. Lisa hated these things. Usually, she’d find the nearest balcony, hide behind a potted plant, and wait for it to be over. But tonight was different. Tonight, she was the co-host of a “Billionaire Aquarium,” and she had a role to play.

“You look like you’re planning a heist,” Rosé whispered, appearing at her elbow with a plate of tiny, complicated-looking appetizers.

“I’m planning a murder,” Lisa corrected, her eyes tracking Minho across the room. “There’s a difference.”

Rosé followed her gaze and snorted. “Minho? Still? Lisa, you’ve been ‘engaged’ for less than a week and you’re already acting like a medieval knight guarding a tower. It’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“I am not guarding a tower,” Lisa snapped, taking a sip of the champagne. “I’m protecting an asset.”

“Right. An ‘asset’ in a vintage Mugler dress that makes your eyes pop out of your head every time she breathes. Sure, Lisa. Totally professional.”

“Go away, Rosie.”

“Going. But seriously—try to look less like a jealous husband and more like a happy fiancée. You’re scaring the investors.”

Lisa ignored her and moved toward the kitchen. She needed a break from the noise. She needed a break from the fake smiles. Most of all, she needed to stop thinking about the way Jennie had looked at her in the closet earlier.

Put it on me.

Four words. That was all it took for Jennie Kim to turn Lisa’s brain into a pile of useless mush.

Lisa leaned against the marble island in the kitchen—the one she had recently claimed was too big—and closed her eyes. The silence in the kitchen was a relief. But it only lasted about ten seconds.

The door swung open, and the scent of jasmine and sharp attitude filled the room.

“Hiding, Manoban? That’s amateur work.”

Lisa opened her eyes. Jennie was standing there, looking perfectly composed despite having spent the last three hours being poked and prodded by the city’s elite.

“I’m not hiding,” Lisa said, straightening up. “I’m supervising the catering.”

Jennie walked over and looked at the empty counters. “You’re supervising the air. Very productive.”

“It’s a high-stress job, Jen. Someone has to make sure the oxygen stays at the correct level of arrogance for your parents.”

Jennie let out a short breath that was almost a laugh. She moved closer, leaning against the island next to Lisa. For a moment, they just stood there. No cameras. No guests. Just the two of them in the middle of a mess they didn’t choose.

“Minho is looking for you,” Jennie said quietly.

Lisa’s jaw tightened. “Tell him to look somewhere else. Like the bottom of the river.”

Jennie turned her head to look at her. “You’re still on that? I already told him he was being inappropriate.”

“He was being a pest,” Lisa countered. “There’s a difference. And the way he looks at you… it’s like he thinks you’re a prize he forgot to bid on.”

“And you?” Jennie asked, her voice dropping. “How do you look at me, Lisa?”

Lisa’s heart skipped a beat. A big, clumsy, embarrassing skip. She turned her body toward Jennie, the space between them suddenly feeling very, very small.

“I look at you like you’re a liability,” Lisa lied, though her voice wasn’t as steady as she wanted it to be. “A very expensive, very loud, very difficult liability.”

Jennie’s eyes narrowed. “Liar.”

“You say that a lot.”

“Because you lie a lot.” Jennie stepped closer. She was wearing those heels that made her almost as tall as Lisa, and right now, her eyes were level with Lisa’s mouth. “You were jealous out there. Admit it.”

“I was being correct,” Lisa repeated her favorite defense. “He was touching your arm. That’s a violation of the ‘fake couple’ protocol.”

“We don’t have a ‘don’t-touch-the-arm’ protocol.”

“We do now. It’s Rule Six.”

“You’re making these up as you go.”

“That’s how leadership works, Kim. You should know that.”

Jennie laughed—a real one this time. It was bright and sharp and it hit Lisa right in the center of her chest. Jennie reached out and adjusted Lisa’s collar, her fingers lingering on the fabric.

“You’re ridiculous,” Jennie whispered.

“And you’re stuck with me,” Lisa reminded her. “Penthouse, protocol, and all.”

Jennie’s gaze softened for a split second—a tiny window of vulnerability that she closed almost immediately. She patted Lisa’s chest and stepped back.

“The guests are starting to leave,” Jennie said, regaining her professional mask. “Go play host for another twenty minutes. Then we can finally end this nightmare.”

“Does that mean the ‘zipper’ offer is still on the table?” Lisa teased, regaining her smug grin.

Jennie stopped at the door and looked back over her shoulder. A slow, dangerous smirk spread across her face.

“Only if you think you can handle it without fainting, Manoban.”

She disappeared back into the party, leaving Lisa alone in the kitchen.

Lisa stared at the closed door, her heart hammering a rhythm that felt suspiciously like a countdown.

“I can handle it,” Lisa muttered to herself.

But as she checked her reflection in the polished dark wood of the kitchen cabinets, she knew she was lying. She couldn’t handle Jennie Kim. She never could. And the fact that they were now living together?

That wasn’t just a business deal.

It was a trap. And Lisa was starting to realize that she didn’t want to escape.

Midnight.

The last of the investors had been poured into their black cars. The catering staff had cleared the “Billionaire Aquarium” of its caviar and secrets. The penthouse was quiet again, the only sound being the hum of the air conditioning and the distant city traffic fifty floors below.

Lisa was sitting on her green beanbag in the middle of the living room, a bottle of beer in her hand. She had kicked off her shoes and loosened her shirt. She looked like a disaster in a very expensive room.

“That chair is even uglier when the lights are low,” a voice said from the hallway.

Lisa didn’t look up. “This chair has a soul, Jennie. Unlike your beige marble.”

Jennie walked into the room. She had taken off her Mugler dress and was now wearing a silk slip dress that was probably even more dangerous for Lisa’s health. She looked tired, her makeup slightly smudged, but she still looked like the most important thing in the building.

“I need your help,” Jennie said, turning her back to Lisa.

Lisa went still.

The zipper.

She set her beer down on the floor—carefully, because if she spilled it on the white stone, Jennie would actually kill her—and stood up. Her legs felt a bit like jelly, but she made it over to where Jennie was standing.

Jennie’s back was a landscape of pale skin and shadows. The zipper was stuck about halfway down.

“Don’t make a comment,” Jennie warned, her voice soft in the quiet room.

“I wasn’t going to say a word,” Lisa whispered.

She reached out. Her fingers touched the metal of the zipper, but they also brushed against the warmth of Jennie’s skin. Jennie shivered.

“You’re cold,” Lisa said.

“I’m fine. Just fix it.”

Lisa worked the zipper carefully. It was caught on a tiny bit of lace. Her hands were usually steady—she could build a computer from scratch, she could sign a million-dollar contract without a tremor—but right now, she was shaking.

“Lisa,” Jennie murmured.

“I’m working on it.”

“You’re taking a long time.”

“It’s a complicated dress, Jen. It’s ‘selectively refined.’ It doesn’t want to let go.”

Lisa finally felt the lace give way. She pulled the zipper down slowly. The fabric parted, revealing more of Jennie’s back. Lisa’s throat felt dry. She should step away. The job was done.

But she didn’t move.

“There,” Lisa whispered, her breath ghosting over Jennie’s shoulder. “You’re free.”

Jennie didn’t turn around immediately. She stood there, the silk dress held up only by her hands at her chest. The silence between them wasn’t bickering anymore. It wasn’t “fake.”

It was heavy. It was the kind of silence that happened right before something changed forever.

Jennie finally turned, holding the dress to her front. Her eyes were wide, dark, and searching Lisa’s face.

“Rule Number Four,” Jennie reminded her, her voice barely a whisper.

Lisa felt a ghost of a smile touch her lips. “No falling in love.”

“Right.”

“I remember.”

Lisa reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Jennie’s ear. Her hand lingered there, her thumb stroking the line of Jennie’s jaw.

“But we never made a rule about being ‘interested,'” Lisa said.

Jennie leaned into the touch—just for a second. A tiny, microscopic second of surrender. Then she blinked, the CEO returning to her eyes. She stepped back, her chin lifting.

“Interest is a dangerous investment, Lisa. The market is volatile.”

Lisa grinned, the tension breaking just enough for her to breathe. “I’ve always liked high-risk stocks.”

Jennie rolled her eyes and started walking toward her wing. “Go to bed, Manoban. You’re talking in metaphors again. It’s embarrassing.”

“Goodnight, wifey!” Lisa called out.

“Die!” Jennie shouted back.

Lisa watched her disappear into the hallway. She stayed there for a long time, the quiet of the penthouse settling around her. She looked at her hand—the one that had touched Jennie’s skin.

She walked back to her green beanbag and sat down, staring out at the Han River.

The party was over. The business deal was moving forward.

But as Lisa sat there in the dark, she knew that the real war had only just begun. And for the first time in her life, she was pretty sure she was going to lose.

And honestly?

As she thought about the way Jennie’s skin had felt under her fingers, Lisa realized she didn’t mind losing at all.

“Screwed,” Lisa whispered to the river. “I am absolutely, 100% screwed.”

She took a long sip of her beer and smiled into the darkness.

It was going to be a very long two years.

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