Chapter 22

LISA POV:

The black luxury sedan moved smoothly through the quiet, winding streets of Seongbuk-dong. This was one of the oldest and most exclusive  quiet neighborhoods in Seoul, inside the car, the silence was different. It wasn’t peaceful; it was heavy, thick, and completely charged with the memory of everything that had happened over the last twelve hours.

Lisa sat on the plush leather seat, leaning her shoulder against the cool window glass. She felt entirely exhausted from the endless gala the night before, but her mind was running a million miles an hour. Her body was physically present in the back of the car, but her brain was still stuck on the rooftop observatory of the Shilla Hotel, trapped in the exact moment Jennie had looked up at her in the dark and told her to shut up.

Every time she closed her eyes, she could still feel the warmth of Jennie’s lips, the soft whimper that had escaped her throat, and the frantic, wild beating of her heart under Lisa’s palm. It had been a total system crash. A beautiful, terrifying failure of all her self-control.

Lisa risked a glance to her right. Jennie was sitting perfectly straight, her knees pressed together, her eyes staring directly ahead at the road. She had already changed out of the heavy, iced-pearl Chanel dress from the gala and was wearing a simple silk blouse and tailored trousers for the ride, but her executive armor was fully back in place. She hadn’t looked at Lisa once since they left the penthouse. She hadn’t spoken a single word. She was completely frozen in her “CEO of Kim Holdings” mode, her jaw set in a hard, tight line.

She regrets it, Lisa thought, a dull, familiar ache settling deep into her chest. She thinks it was a mistake. She’s terrified because we broke the rules, and now she’s building the wall higher.

Lisa tightened her fist inside her jacket pocket, her knuckles cracking softly. She had spent the entire morning promising herself that she wouldn’t let Jennie hide behind those corporate walls anymore. If Jennie was scared of the freefall, Lisa would just have to be the one to catch her. But looking at Jennie’s icy profile right now, the task felt incredibly daunting. How was she supposed to break through a fortress that had been built over a lifetime of corporate grooming?

The car slowed down, turning into a long, private driveway lined with thick, weeping willow trees that brushed against the roof of the vehicle. At the end of the path stood the studio. From the outside, it was magnificent—a massive, historic greenhouse constructed from dark Victorian iron and hundreds of oversized glass panels. Thick, wild green ivy climbed up the sides, wrapping around the iron beams, and the surrounding gardens were bursting with white roses, lavender, and blooming hydrangeas. It looked like a secret sanctuary hidden away from the rest of the world.

But the moment the chauffeur opened the door and Lisa stepped out, the illusion of a peaceful sanctuary vanished instantly.

Inside the massive glass structure, it was a total, high-fashion madhouse.

The air was hot and thick, smelling strongly of rich damp soil, expensive floral perfume, fresh espresso, and a chemical cloud of hairspray. People were running everywhere. Production assistants with headsets were shouting across the room, tech crews were dragging heavy black cables across the stone floors, and massive white lighting arrays were being wheeled into position to catch the afternoon sun. In the center of it all stood three different clothing racks loaded with thousands of dollars of designer wardrobe pieces, all carefully selected by Harper’s Bazaar.

The moment Jennie and Lisa walked through the heavy iron entrance, a group of three stylists holding iPads and clipboards rushed toward them like a security detail.

“Ms. Kim! Lisa-san! Welcome, welcome!” the lead stylist, a young woman with sharp glasses and a hurried expression, said while bowing quickly. “We are so incredibly honored to have you both today. The global engagement announcement last night was absolutely historic! The internet is completely melting down. But we have no time to lose—the natural sunlight coming through the glass roof is absolutely perfect right now, and we need to capture that specific golden-hour domestic warmth!”

Before Lisa could even open her mouth to say hello, two hair and makeup artists gently but firmly took hold of Jennie’s arms, guiding her toward the left side of the greenhouse where the private VIP dressing rooms were set up.

Jennie finally looked at Lisa then—just a quick, fraction-of-a-second glance. Her dark eyes were wide, flashing with a sudden hit of nervousness before the stylists pulled her behind a heavy velvet curtain.

“Lisa-san, right this way please!” another stylist said, gesturing toward the right side of the studio.

Lisa let out a long breath, running a hand through her messy blonde hair, and followed the assistant into a smaller, private dressing area. The room was simple, featuring a large full-length mirror, a leather armchair, and a single clothing rack containing her designated outfit for the day.

True to Mrs. Kim’s strict orders from the phone call, the wardrobe was a complete 180-degree turn from the rebellious, shirtless tuxedo Lisa had worn the night before. Today, they were selling “domestic bliss.” They were selling stability, safety, and old-money comfort.

Lisa looked at the clothes and sighed. It was a beautiful, incredibly soft cream-colored linen shirt with a relaxed, open collar, and a pair of matching sand-toned tailored trousers made of lightweight Italian wool. It was simple, completely casual, and yet every single stitch screamed extreme wealth. It was exactly what a billionaire looked like while lounging in their private garden on a lazy Sunday morning.

Lisa changed quickly, kicking off her boots and opting to stay barefoot since the shoot was supposed to look relaxed and natural. She rolled the linen sleeves up to her elbows, revealing her forearms, and left the top two buttons of the shirt undone so she could actually breathe in the humid greenhouse air.

When she stepped out of the dressing room and walked back into the main studio space, she found that the production crew had cleared a large area in the center of the greenhouse.

The setting was breathtaking. Huge, towering exotic ferns and ancient palm trees reached up toward the glass ceiling, their giant green leaves filtering the bright sunlight. Clusters of fragrant white roses and wild jasmine climbed up the iron pillars, filling the entire space with a sweet, intoxicating scent. A rustic wooden table and a couple of vintage chairs were arranged near a stone fountain, where crystal-clear water bubbled softly. The afternoon sun poured through the glass panes overhead, casting a warm, shimmering golden glow over the entire scene. It looked like a fairytale.

Lisa leaned her hip against the edge of the wooden table, crossing her arms over her chest. Her heart was doing a strange, irregular dance against her ribs. She was used to cameras—she was a photographer herself, after all—but she wasn’t used to the sheer panic of waiting for Jennie Kim to walk out and destroy her entire reality all over again.

Then, the heavy velvet curtain on the left side of the studio parted.

Lisa looked up, and her entire world instantly went into slow motion. Her hands froze against her arms, her jaw went slightly slack, and her brain completely short-circuited. Every single thought, every piece of strategy, and every boundary she had promised to keep was crossed out of existence in a heartbeat.

Jennie looked absolutely, devastatingly incredible.

The strict, terrifying CEO from the car was completely gone. The stylists had completely stripped away her corporate armor. Her hair, which had been pulled into that sharp, gravity-defying bun the night before, was now completely down. It fell over her shoulders in soft, voluminous, natural waves, looking slightly messy in a way that made Lisa’s throat go completely dry.

She was wearing a simple, flowing sundress made of raw, off-white silk. It wasn’t tight or aggressive like her Chanel gown; it was light, airy, and draped loosely over her body. The dress had delicate, razor-thin straps that showed off her soft shoulders, and a low, elegant neckline that highlighted the perfect curve of her collarbones. The long, tier-layered skirt flowed gently around her bare ankles, brushing against the smooth stone floor as she walked. She wore almost no makeup—just fresh, dewy, glowing skin, a tiny hint of blush on her cheeks, and lips that were painted a soft, natural berry-pink.

She didn’t look like a billionaire heiress or a product launch strategy. She looked soft. She looked ethereal. She looked like a girl made entirely of sunlight and summer mornings. She was so incredibly beautiful that it felt like a physical blow to Lisa’s chest, making her heart ache with a fierce, terrifying intensity.

Jennie walked down the three rustic wooden steps leading into the garden area, her bare toes peeking out from under the silk hem. Without her high heels, she looked much smaller, much more fragile, and completely vulnerable. As she noticed Lisa standing there, staring at her like a dazed idiot, Jennie hesitated. She stopped in the middle of the stone path, her small fingers nervously reaching down to grasp a piece of her silk skirt, twisting the fabric between her knuckles.

“Lalisa,” Jennie murmured. Her voice was soft, devoid of any executive authority, and a faint, beautiful pink blush instantly spread across her cheeks and down her neck under the bright sun. “You are… you are staring again. Stop it.”

Lisa didn’t answer right away. She literally couldn’t find the vocabulary. Her feet moved on their own, carrying her slowly across the stone floor toward the center of the garden. The busy crew, the shouting director, the flashing test lights—all of it faded into a blurry background. The only thing that was sharp, the only thing that had any definition, was the girl standing in front of her.

Lisa stopped just a foot away from Jennie. The distance between them shrank until Lisa could feel the gentle heat radiating off Jennie’s skin, mixed with the sweet, familiar scent of her jasmine perfume. The playful bickering and the sarcastic shields that Lisa always used to protect herself felt completely useless right now.

“I can’t help it, Jen,” Lisa said honestly, her voice dropping into a deep, raspy whisper that was meant only for the two of them. She looked down at Jennie, her dark eyes completely wide and full of raw, unedited admiration. “You look… wow. I don’t even have a word for it. You look completely beautiful.”

Jennie’s breath hitched sharply, her chest rising and falling beneath the white silk. She looked up, her cat-like eyes locking onto Lisa’s face, searching her expression for any sign of a joke. But there was no joke. Lisa’s face was entirely open, entirely vulnerable, and completely dazed by her.

Jennie’s gaze softened completely, the icy, defensive walls she had built up in the car crumbling to ash in a single second. The fake contract, the two-year timeline, and the pressure of their families completely disappeared. It was just the two of them, barefoot in a glass house, the residual heat from last night’s rooftop kiss snapping right back to life like an electric current in the air.

The photographer began calling out a rapid stream of adjustments, and the production crew shifted behind the lens to capture the angles. For the next hour, the greenhouse became a stage, and they were the main actors. They were guided toward a rustic wrought-iron bench nestled beneath a canopy of cascading white wisteria. The sunlight hit the glass panes above just right, scattering warm, golden beams across the stone floor.

“Sit, please,” the director commanded, gesturing with his hands. “Jennie, drape your skirt across the bench. Lisa, lean over her from behind. Like you are sharing a private joke before the rest of the world wakes up.”

Lisa moved behind the bench, her bare feet silent on the stones. She leaned down, resting her forearms against the high back of the iron seat, bringing her face incredibly close to Jennie’s shoulder. She could see the delicate goosebumps forming on Jennie’s bare skin as the cool breeze from an open ventilation pane drifted through the greenhouse.

“Are you cold?” Lisa whispered, her breath brushing against the shell of Jennie’s ear.

Jennie didn’t look back, but her shoulders dropped slightly. “No. The temperature is adequate.”

“You’re doing that thing again,” Lisa murmured, a small chuckle vibrating in her chest. “The robot CEO voice. We’re supposed to be in domestic bliss, remember? Relax your neck.”

“I am relaxed,” Jennie lied, though her fingers were gripping her silk dress tightly.

“Sure you are,” Lisa smiled. Slowly, deliberately, she lifted one hand and placed it gently on the curve of Jennie’s bare shoulder. Her thumb made a slow, soothing stroke against the soft skin, applying just enough pressure to coax the tension out of the muscles.

Jennie let out a quiet breath through her nose, her head tilting slightly toward Lisa’s touch. It was a tiny, subconscious surrender, but to Lisa, it felt like winning a major battle.

The shutter clicked rapidly. Click. Click. Click. The flashing lights flared in a rhythmic pulse, capturing the subtle softness in Jennie’s expression and the protective, focused gaze of the taller girl leaning over her.

“Yes! Magnificent! The contrast of the cream linen and the raw silk is stunning!” the director praised, completely absorbed in the image on his monitor. “Now, let us move to the fountain. We want movement. A walk through the private estate.”

They moved to the center of the greenhouse, where a large stone basin bubbled with fresh, crystal-clear water. Lush green moss covered the edge of the fountain, and floating white lilies drifted on the surface.

“Walk slowly together,” the crew directed. “Lisa, take her hand. Look down at her feet. Jennie, look up at her jawline. Give us the visual narrative of total trust.”

Lisa extended her arm, her hand open and waiting. Jennie hesitated for a beat, her dark eyes tracking the lines of Lisa’s palm before she slowly slid her smaller hand into Lisa’s. Instead of a loose, polite grip, Lisa immediately closed her long fingers around Jennie’s, interlacing them completely. Their palms met, flat and warm, creating a direct circuit of heat between them.

As they began to walk slowly along the stone path, Lisa noticed the heavy diamond engagement ring on Jennie’s left hand. It pressed slightly against her own skin, a hard, cold piece of rock that symbolized everything fake about their situation. Yet, the way Jennie’s fingers tightened back around hers didn’t feel fake at all. It felt desperate. It felt like she was holding onto Lisa to keep from spinning out of control.

“You’re walking too fast, boss,” Lisa teased softly, keeping her eyes fixed on the path ahead to maintain the pose. “The director wants slow and romantic, not a race to the boardroom.”

“The stone floor is uneven,” Jennie murmured, her eyes tracing the sharp line of Lisa’s jaw just like she had been told to do. Up close, she could see the tiny, faint scar near Lisa’s hairline, and the long, thick sweep of her blonde eyelashes. It was a dangerous view. “I am simply adjusting my stride to avoid a physical hazard.”

“I’ve got you,” Lisa said, her voice dropping into a lower, completely serious register. She didn’t look at the cameras. She looked down at Jennie, her dark eyes locking onto the cat-like gaze of her fake fiancée. “I’m holding your hand, Jen. You’re not going to fall. Just trust me.”

Jennie froze for a fraction of a second, her breath catching sharply in her throat. The intense sincerity in Lisa’s voice was too much to handle. It bypassed all her strategic defenses, striking directly at the soft, hidden core she spent every day protecting. She didn’t reply, but her grip on Lisa’s hand became so tight her knuckles turned white.

They spent the rest of the session navigating the lush, green labyrinth of the greenhouse. They posed against old brick walls covered in blooming jasmine, leaned against wooden tables cluttered with antique terracotta pots, and stood beneath the giant, overarching leaves of ancient palm trees. With every single click of the shutter, the invisible line between performance and reality became more and more blurred.

Lisa found herself entirely consumed by the look of the girl beside her. Without the heavy makeup, the aggressive jewelry, and the stiff designer armor, Jennie looked younger, softer, and terrifyingly real. Every time Lisa’s hand touched her waist, every time their shoulders brushed, and every time she caught the sweet, warm scent of jasmine rising from Jennie’s skin, she had to remind herself to breathe. She had to remind herself that there were fifty crew members watching them from the shadows.

But as the afternoon sun began to dip lower, casting long, dramatic golden rays through the Victorian glass roof, the afternoon sun was very low in the sky. It shone through the glass panels of the greenhouse, filling the whole place with a deep, heavy golden light. The shadows of the big plants were long and dark on the stone floor. It felt very warm and quiet.

 the director, was looking at his camera screen. He did not look happy. He was shaking his head.

“No, no, no! Stop! Freeze right there!” he shouted loudly. His voice echoed off the iron walls.

The whole photography crew stopped moving. The loud click-click-click sound of the camera died instantly.

Lisa kept her hand where it was, resting gently on the back of Jennie’s waist. Jennie stayed still, her bare feet frozen on the cool stone floor. Her small fingers were still holding onto the front of Lisa’s linen shirt. They were standing right next to the stone fountain, and the water was bubbling softly in the quiet room.

The director walked quickly toward them. He stopped just a few feet away. He looked at Lisa’s serious face, and then he looked at the bright pink blush on Jennie’s cheeks.

“The walking photos are nice. The hand-holding is sweet,” the director said, waving his hands in the air. “But it is too safe! Last night, the internet went crazy because you looked exciting and dangerous. Today, you look too polite. I need the most important photo of the day. I need you to kiss.”

The word kiss made the whole room feel completely still.

Jennie gasped quietly. Her fingers tightened around Lisa’s shirt. Lisa felt her own heart hit hard against her ribs.

“A kiss was not on the schedule for today,” Jennie said quickly. Her voice sounded a bit high and nervous. She looked around the greenhouse, trying to find her assistant or anyone who could help her. “The contract for this photoshoot only says we have to look close. It does not say we have to kiss. We need to follow the original plan.”

The director let out a loud groan and looked up at the glass ceiling. “Ms. Kim, look at the sky. The sun is going down. We have exactly four minutes before the beautiful light is completely gone. Harper’s Bazaar wants a special, romantic story. If I send them pictures of a couple just holding hands like friends, your mother will be very angry with me. You cannot say no to this. The story needs a kiss.”

He did not wait for Jennie to answer. He turned around and started shouting orders at his crew. “Move the white lights closer! Hurry! We are taking the final photo right now!”

The crew exploded into action again. They moved big white boards and lights around Lisa and Jennie, trapping them in a small, bright circle of golden sunlight.

Jennie looked up at Lisa. Her dark, cat-like eyes were wide and full of panic. She was completely stuck. She could not call her mother to complain, because her mother wanted these photos to look as real as possible. She could not call her legal team, because a kiss was normal for a big engagement announcement. For the first time in her life, the smart CEO had no plan and no escape.

“Lisa,” Jennie whispered. Her voice was very small and shaking. She leaned closer so the crew could not hear her. “We… we have to do it. We cannot say no to the director in front of all these people. It will look bad for the business merger if we refuse.”

“Jennie,” Lisa said softly. Her voice was calm and deep.

She did not look at the crew. She did not care about the director. She slowly brought her other hand up and placed it on Jennie’s waist. She pulled Jennie an inch closer, until the soft white silk of Jennie’s dress was brushing against her own clothes.

“Forget the press,” Lisa murmured, looking down into Jennie’s eyes. She looked at Jennie’s trembling lips for a second. “Forget the business. It’s just a job, right? It’s just acting.”

“Right,” Jennie breathed. Her heart was beating so fast and hard against Lisa’s chest it felt like a trapped bird. “Just acting.”

“Then let me handle it,” Lisa whispered.

Slowly, Lisa lifted her hand. Her fingers moved up Jennie’s soft arm, over her shoulder, and rested against the back of Jennie’s neck. Her thumb touched the soft skin right under Jennie’s ear. She could feel Jennie’s wild, fast pulse beating against her fingers.

Jennie closed her eyes the moment Lisa’s warm skin touched her. She let out a soft, helpless sigh. Her body became relaxed, and she leaned fully into Lisa’s touch. The cold, protective wall she had built up all morning completely disappeared.

“Perfect! Yes! Stay just like that!”  The director yelled from behind the camera. Click. Click. Click.

Lisa did not hear him. She leaned down slowly, her eyes closing as her lips met Jennie’s in a soft, deep kiss.

It was not like the fast, messy kiss on the rooftop last night. This kiss was slow, gentle, and full of a warm, aching sweetness. Lisa held the back of Jennie’s neck tenderly, kissing her like she wanted to protect her from the whole world.

Jennie let out a small, shaky breath into the kiss. Her arms moved up automatically, wrapping tightly around Lisa’s neck. She pulled herself closer, completely forgetting about the contract, the fake engagement, and the five-month timeline. She opened her lips slightly, melting into Lisa’s warmth.

The camera flashes were going off fast, blinding and bright, but neither of them noticed. In the middle of the golden greenhouse, surrounded by flowers and cameras, the act was completely gone. The kiss was real, and they were both completely lost in it.

_______________________________________
____________________________________________________