Chapter 17

JENNIE POV:

Jennie Kim was officially at her limit.

If one more person used the word “synergy” while looking at a tray of tiny, gold-leaf-covered smoked salmon tartlets, she was going to personally throw herself off the rooftop of the Shilla Hotel.

It was mid-July, the heat in Seoul was completely disrespectful, and today was the day of the official engagement party. Or, as Jennie’s mother had been calling it in the family group chat, “The Preliminary Market Consolidation Gala.” Truly, romance was dead and buried under ten layers of corporate branding.

Jennie stood in the center of the private VIP holding suite, staring at her reflection in a floor-to-length gilded mirror. She was wearing a custom Chanel haute couture dress that wasn’t even white; it was an extremely specific shade of “iced pearl” that took three different textile mills in Lyon to perfect. It was strapless, structurally aggressive, and clung to her ribs so tightly that inhaling felt like a premium feature she hadn’t paid for. Her hair was styled in a sleek, ultra-polished high bun, not a single strand daring to defy gravity. She looked like a billion dollars. She looked like a goddess.

She felt like a very expensive prisoner of war.

“The shoulder alignment is giving absolute main character energy,” a voice drawled from the velvet couch behind her.

Jennie didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The scent of expensive sandalwood and absolute chaos always preceded Lalisa Manoban.

Jennie looked through the mirror’s reflection instead. Lisa was sitting on the arm of the sofa, completely unbothered by the sheer gravity of the day. And worst of all? She looked completely ridiculous. Ridiculously good.

Jean-Luc had ended up getting his way with the tailoring, and Lisa was wearing a custom, deep charcoal-cropped tuxedo jacket with the infamous low-rise tailored trousers. No shirt underneath. Just a delicate, multi-layered diamond body chain looping around her neck and cascading down her bare torso, disappearing beneath the waistband of her trousers. Her blonde hair was messy-chic, styled with that effortless “I just woke up like a rockstar” texture.

It was a total visual attack. Jennie felt her stomach do a very unprofessional, very un-CEO-like flip.

“Lalisa,” Jennie said, turning around slowly, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “You are literally missing a shirt. We are about to go downstairs to face two hundred members of the high-society elite and the entire international press core, and you forgot half of your outfit.”

Lisa let out a low whistle, her eyes doing a slow, shameless sweep from Jennie’s iced-pearl heels all the way to her face. The playful, smug smirk on Lisa’s face softened for a fraction of a second, her pupils dilating just enough for Jennie to notice.

“Yeah, well,” Lisa said, her voice dropping a register as she stood up. “If I wore a full shirt, the room would explode from the sheer visual contrast. You’re giving ‘Empress of East Asia,’ Jen. I have to balance the ecosystem by giving them a little bit of the sporty clavicles.”

“You are annoying,” Jennie muttered, though her face was suddenly feeling very warm. She turned back to the mirror, pretending to adjust her diamond earrings just to have something to do with her hands. “Did you check the security perimeter? The paparazzi are already lining up outside the main gates.”

“Relax, boss,” Lisa said, walking over. Her footsteps were completely silent. Before Jennie could prepare her mental defenses, Lisa was standing right behind her in the mirror. The contrast between them was insane. Jennie in her structured, pristine Chanel; Lisa looking like a high-fashion rebel who had accidentally stumbled into a royal court.

Lisa reached into her pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box. “We need to put the asset on.”

The ring. The massive, historically heavy diamond that symbolized their two-year contract.

Jennie turned around to face her. The space between them in the holding suite was suddenly very small, filled only with the scent of jasmine, sandalwood, and the humming energy of two weeks of unresolved kitchen counter tension.

“Do it properly,” Jennie whispered. It wasn’t a command this time. It was almost a plea for stability.

Lisa looked at her, the teasing light dying out of her eyes, replaced by that deep, steady intensity that always made Jennie’s heart do a chaotic countdown. Lisa took Jennie’s left hand. Her skin was incredibly warm, a stark contrast to Jennie’s cold fingers. Slowly, deliberately, Lisa slid the heavy diamond ring onto her finger. But she didn’t let go. Her thumb stayed on Jennie’s knuckles, gently stroking the skin in a slow, rhythmic circle.

“Your heart is beating really fast, Nini,” Lisa murmured, her eyes dropping to Jennie’s lips before snapping back up to her eyes.

“It’s the corset,” Jennie lied instantly, her voice a little breathy. “It’s cutting off my oxygen.”

“Sure,” Lisa smirked, her thumb giving one last, lingering squeeze to Jennie’s hand before she finally let go. “Keep telling yourself that. Come on, wifey. Let’s go give the shareholders what they paid for.”

The Red Carpet Execution

The grand ballroom of the Shilla Hotel was less of a party and more of a high-society battlefield.

As soon as the double doors opened and Jennie and Lisa stepped out onto the elevated platform, the flashlights from the media wall hit them like a physical wall of heat. The noise was deafening—the shouting of reporters, the blinding, continuous click-click-click of professional cameras, the whispers of the crowd below.

“Jennie-ssi! Look over here!”

“Lisa-san! Is the wedding really set for Italy?”

“Are the rumors about the Q3 logistics rollout true?”

Jennie felt her corporate mask instantly snap into place. Her chin lifted, her shoulders squared, and her lips curved into the perfect, practiced, enigmatic smile of the Kim Holdings heiress. She was ready to glide down the stairs like a robot.

But then, Lisa’s hand found her waist.

It wasn’t a light, polite touch for the cameras. It was possessive. Firm. Lisa’s bare fingers, warm and steady, pressed right against the small of Jennie’s back where the Chanel dress cut low. The sudden, electric contact sent a jolt straight up Jennie’s spine, shattering her icy composure. She instinctively leaned into the touch, her body recognizing Lisa’s heat before her brain could even process it.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” Lisa whispered over the roar of the crowd, her mouth brushing against the edge of Jennie’s ear. “You’re doing great. Just look at me.”

Jennie looked up at her. Lisa was smiling effortlessly at the cameras, but her eyes were entirely focused on keeping Jennie steady. They walked down the stairs together, a united front, moving through the sea of flashing lights like they owned the room. Because tonight, they actually did.

The red carpet area was a gauntlet of fake pleasantries.

“Jennie, darling! You look absolutely radiant!” Mrs. Choi, the wife of a major steel tech mogul, gushed, her eyes scanning Jennie’s dress like she was calculating the exact price per thread. “And Lisa! Oh, my. The suit is… very modern. Very daring.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Choi,” Lisa said, flashing a blinding, charm-offensive smile that could probably manipulate the stock market on its own. “We wanted to make sure the vibe was authentic. A traditional suit felt too stiff for how… passionate our relationship is.”

Jennie almost choked on her own saliva. Passionate? Lisa was truly playing the role too well.

Jennie quickly chimed in, her voice smooth as silk. “What Lisa means is that we are focusing on modernization. In our relationship, and in the upcoming corporate merger. It’s all about forward momentum.”

“Naturally, naturally,” Mrs. Choi chuckled, dabbing her face with a silk handkerchief. “Your mother must be thrilled. The optics are just perfect.”

Optics. That was the word of the night. Nobody in this room cared if Jennie and Lisa actually knew each other’s favorite colors, or that they had spent the previous night eating extra-spicy Thai food out of plastic containers while sitting on a cheap green beanbag. All they cared about was the narrative.

As they moved away from the media wall and into the main reception area, the crowd of corporate sharks began to encircle them. Jennie felt the suffocating weight of her family name settling back onto her chest. She had to shake hands with board members, nod at politicians, and endure her mother’s sharp, evaluating glances from across the room.

“I need to go speak with the European logistics directors,” Jennie whispered to Lisa, her smile tightening as she saw her father gesturing to her from the VIP lounge. “Stay here. Don’t touch anything expensive.”

Lisa’s grip on her waist tightened for a brief second before slipping away. “Go get ’em, boss. I’ll be right here, pretending to understand what a hedge fund is.”

The Confrontation

Ten minutes into her conversation with the European directors, Jennie’s brain was already starting to blue-screen. She was answering questions about supply chains and tariff regulations automatically, her eyes subconsciously scanning the crowd, looking for a flash of blonde hair and a charcoal suit.

And then, she saw him.

Minho Park was standing near the grand ice sculpture in the center of the ballroom. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Jennie had personally optimized the guest matrix to remove his name, but clearly, his father’s massive shareholding status had given him a golden ticket through some loophole. He was holding a glass of scotch, looking smug, and his eyes were locked entirely on Lisa, who was currently cornered near the champagne fountain by two older investors.

Jennie’s blood ran completely cold. Then, it boiled.

She excused herself from the directors mid-sentence, not even caring if it looked unprofessional, and began to march across the ballroom. Her heels clicked against the floor like a countdown.

By the time she reached the champagne fountain, Minho had already intersected Lisa. He was standing too close to her, a nasty, condescending smirk on his face.

“Nice chains, Manoban,” Minho was saying, his voice dripping with passive-aggressive malice as he eyed Lisa’s bare torso. “Did you forget the rest of your clothes, or is the Manoban empire running so low on liquid capital that you can’t afford fabric?”

Lisa was leaning against a high-top table, her expression completely relaxed, though Jennie could see the slight tension in her jaw. “It’s called high fashion, Minho. I know it’s a difficult concept to grasp when your entire wardrobe looks like it was sponsored by a mid-tier accounting firm.”

Minho’s face darkened, his jaw clenching. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? Enjoying the penthouse, playing the part of the doting fiancée. But everyone in this room knows it’s a circus. How much is the Kim family paying you to keep Jennie’s bed warm for the next two years?”

“She isn’t paying me anything,” a cold, razor-sharp voice interrupted.

Minho jumped slightly as Jennie stepped into the light. She stood beside Lisa, her posture immaculate, her eyes flashing with a dangerous, icy fury that usually made senior board members look down at their shoes.

“Jennie,” Minho recovered, trying to smooth over his expression. “I was just congratulating your… partner.”

“You were trespassing,” Jennie said, her voice low and cutting through the background music of the string quartet. “I remember explicitly removing your name from the final guest database, Minho. Your presence here is a security anomaly. And your conversation is a brand liability.”

“Jennie, come on,” Minho scoffed, looking around to see if anyone was watching. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. You don’t honestly expect me to believe you’re into… this? A girl who lives in leather jackets and plays with cameras? She’s a nobody compared to our circle.”

Before Jennie could unleash a corporate execution that would ruin Minho’s career permanently, Lisa moved.

She didn’t yell. She didn’t make a scene. Instead, Lisa stepped directly into Minho’s personal space. Because she was taller, she looked down at him, her dark eyes completely devoid of humor. The playful “rebel” mask was completely gone, replaced by the terrifying, protective energy of a medieval knight guarding a tower.

“Listen to me very carefully,” Lisa whispered, her voice dangerously calm, but loud enough for Minho to hear every single syllable. “Rule Number Five is currently in full effect. If you mention her name again, or if you even look in her direction for the rest of the night, I will personally show you how fast a body can travel from a hotel balcony to the asphalt. Do you understand the physics of that, or do I need to explain it to you outside?”

Minho took an involuntary step back, his face turning an embarrassing shade of pale. He looked at Lisa’s chest, where the diamond chains were shaking slightly from the intensity of her breathing, then at Jennie’s icy glare.

“You’re both insane,” Minho muttered, slamming his scotch glass onto a passing waiter’s tray before turning and practically fleeing toward the exit.

The Sanctuary of the Dark

The silence that followed between Jennie and Lisa was heavy. The ballroom was still buzzing around them, but the space they occupied felt entirely isolated.

Jennie looked up at Lisa. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of what had just happened. Lisa was still staring at the exit, her chest rising and falling quickly, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the high-top table.

“Rule Five?” Jennie asked softly, her voice losing all of its executive armor.

Lisa blinked, snapping out of her dark trance and looking down at her. The intense expression instantly melted, replaced by a soft, slightly sheepish smile. “Yeah. I told you. No one touches what’s… well, no one insults the team. Rule Seven alignment.”

“You are completely ridiculous,” Jennie whispered, but a small, genuine dimple appeared on her cheek. She reached out, her fingers catching Lisa’s wrist. “Come with me. I need to get out of this crowd before I actually suffocate.”

They slipped away through a side door, navigating the back-of-house corridors of the hotel until they reached the private open-air rooftop observatory. It was closed to the public for the gala, completely dark except for the amber glow of the city skyline below and the pale moonlight reflecting off the glass floors.

The air up here was cooler, a gentle breeze rustling the silk of Jennie’s dress.

Jennie immediately walked to the edge of the glass railing, leaning her hands against the cool metal, and took a deep, unrestricted breath. The pressure of the Shilla ballroom felt fifty stories away.

Lisa walked up behind her, shedding her cropped tuxedo jacket and draping it gently over Jennie’s bare shoulders. The fabric was still incredibly warm from Lisa’s skin, smelling intensely of that rich sandalwood perfume.

“Better?” Lisa asked, leaning against the railing next to her.

“Much better,” Jennie murmured, pulling the jacket tighter around herself. She looked out at the lights of Seoul, the Han River snaking through the city like a ribbon of black ink. “Tonight was… a lot. My mother tried to add another eighty people to the Italy list while we were doing the champagne toast.”

“Eighty?” Lisa snorted, shaking her head. “We’re going to need a stadium at this rate. A full-on festival. We can call it Jennie-Palooza.”

Jennie laughed—a real, bright, unbothered laugh that echoed in the quiet night air. She turned her body toward Lisa, the distance between them shrinking down to nothing. Without the heels, she had to look up at her, her eyes searching Lisa’s face in the moonlight.

“Thank you,” Jennie said quietly.

Lisa tilted her head, a soft, private smile playing on her lips. “For the jacket? Or for threatening to defenestrate Minho Park?”

“Both,” Jennie whispered. She stepped closer, her hand rising automatically to rest against Lisa’s bare chest, right over the cool links of the diamond body chain. Lisa’s heart was drumming a frantic, rapid rhythm beneath her palm. It was completely synchronized with Jennie’s own chest. “You were… terrifying out there. Very territorial for a business partner.”

Lisa’s expression softened into something so vulnerable, so entirely devoid of jokes and shields, that it made Jennie’s breath catch in her throat. Lisa reached up, her hand hovering for a second before her long fingers gently cupped Jennie’s jaw. Her thumb stroked the soft skin of her cheek, her touch so light it felt like a prayer.

“I told you, Jen,” Lisa whispered, her voice deep and raspy in the dark. “I don’t like people messing with what’s mine. And right now… team or no team, contract or no contract… you’re the only thing in this room I care about.”

The world outside completely stopped. The contract, the two-year timeline, the Chanel dress, the millions of dollars in shares—none of it meant anything. There was only the heat of Lisa’s thumb on her jaw, the dark intensity of her eyes, and the sheer, undeniable gravity pulling them together.

Rule Number Four: No falling in love.

Jennie looked up at Lisa’s lips, her defensive walls crumbling into absolute ash. She didn’t want to be a CEO tonight. She didn’t want to be a product launch. She just wanted this. She wanted the chaos. She wanted the girl with the NASA hoodie and the custom cropped tuxedo.

“Lisa,” Jennie breathed, her fingers tightening around the diamond chain on Lisa’s chest.

“Yeah, Nini?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Lisa didn’t hesitate for a single microsecond.

She leaned down, her hand sliding from Jennie’s jaw to the back of her neck, fingers tangling into the loose strands of her hair as she pulled her up. When their lips finally met, it wasn’t a PR stunt. It wasn’t a performance for the shareholders. It was a complete, chaotic, historical explosion of everything they had been keeping locked behind corporate rules and sarcastic bickering for the past month.

Lisa’s lips were warm, soft, and completely consuming. She kissed Jennie like she was trying to rewrite the entire contract with her mouth, pulling Jennie’s body tightly against her own until there was no space left between them. Jennie let out a soft, helpless whimper into the kiss, her arms sliding up around Lisa’s neck, her fingers gripping the short hairs at the nape of her neck as she completely surrendered to the heat.

It was a total system failure. A beautiful, irreversible glitch.

When Lisa finally pulled back a fraction of an inch, her forehead remained pressed against Jennie’s, both of them breathing heavily, their gasps loud in the quiet night air. Lisa’s eyes were wide, dark, and completely dazed, looking exactly like she had been hit by a high-speed train.

“Wow,” Lisa whispered, her voice completely wrecked. Her thumb was still resting against the nape of Jennie’s neck, warm and trembling slightly.

She began to lean back in, her eyes dropping to Jennie’s lips again, her grip on Jennie’s waist tightening to pull her closer for another kiss. Jennie closed her eyes, tilting her chin up, completely ready to melt back into the chaos.

Then, the heavy steel door of the rooftop observatory flew open with a loud, echoey clang.

The spell didn’t just break; it completely shattered.

Jennie gasped, pushing away to create distance. Lisa reacted instantly, stepping in front of Jennie to shield her from view, her hand dropping to her side as they both snapped their heads toward the sound.

Standing in the doorway, holding a clipboard and looking completely panicked, was one of the head event coordinators from the hotel.

“M-Ms. Kim!” the coordinator stammered, her eyes darting between them. The poor woman looked like she wanted the glass floor to open up and swallow her whole. “I am so sorry to interrupt. The security team said the roof was empty, and I—”

“What is it, Minji?” Jennie said. Her voice snapped right back into its ice-cold, corporate executive register, though her face was burning a bright, undeniable crimson under the moonlight. She smoothly adjusted her posture, hiding the fact that her chest was still heaving from the kiss.

“Your… your mother,” Minji swallowed hard, clutching the clipboard to her chest like a shield. “Chairman Kim and Mrs. Kim are looking for you both in the main VIP lounge. The international press outlet, Vogue Global, has requested a final exclusive photo of the engaged couple before the gala ends. Your mother said if I didn’t find you in two minutes, I would be managing a parking lot in Incheon tomorrow.”

Lisa let out a soft, low chuckle behind Jennie, the vibration of it traveling right through the air. “Well, we can’t let Minji get banished to Incheon, boss. That’s bad for employee morale.”

Jennie shot Lisa a sharp, warning glare over her shoulder, but the tips of her own ears were still deeply pink. She turned back to the coordinator. “Tell my mother we will be down in five minutes. Make sure the media wall is clear of any stray investors.”

“Yes, Ms. Kim! Right away!” Minji bowed quickly, looking incredibly relieved, and practically ran back down the corridor, the heavy doors clicking shut behind her.

The quiet returned to the rooftop, but the intense, romantic bubble had popped. It was time to go back to the battlefield.

Lisa turned to Jennie, a playful but incredibly tender expression on her face. She reached out, her fingers gently tucking a stray lock of hair back into Jennie’s high bun. “Duty calls, wifey. Ready to go back to the aquarium?”

Jennie looked at Lisa’s messy blonde hair and the absolute confidence radiating off her.

“Fix yourself up, Manoban,” Jennie murmured, though her voice lacked any real bite. A small, genuine dimple appeared on her cheek. “We have a narrative to sell.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lisa grinned, straightening her posture.

As they walked back toward the heavy steel doors, Lisa didn’t look at the cameras, and Jennie didn’t look at her iPad. Instead, right before they stepped back into the bright, flashing lights of the high-society world, Lisa’s hand slid down, her long fingers lacing tightly through Jennie’s.

Jennie didn’t pull away. She squeezed back.

The architects were building a wedding. The families were building a merger. The public was building a story. But as they walked down to face the cameras together, hand in hand, Jennie realized that the rules didn’t matter anymore. They had five months until September, but the real merger had already happened right here in the dark.

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