Jennie

It's 8:30 a.m. on Thursday and time to meet with Krystal Jung again. Although it goes well, I'm off my game. It's hard to concentrate. I wonder if anyone can tell. Krystal doesn't seem to, if her pleased smile at the end of the meeting is any indication.

"Rolling right along," she proclaims, adjusting her hot-pink blazer when she stands up. "I think you might get me out of this after all."

Apparently, nobody's ever told Krystal Jung that hot pink doesn't go with fire-engine red lipstick, and I won't be the first. She's the makeup expert. "That's the plan."

"I approve of it." She glances at Lisa, who's still typing up notes on her laptop in the seat to my left. "As for you, young lady, what am I gonna have to do to get you into my makeup?"

Lisa's shoulders stiffen. "As I've said, Ms. Jung, I'm not much of one for makeup. Just flavored ChapStick," she adds, making me shiver with instant need. She kissed me last night. No flavored ChapStick then, but would I taste it on her now?

"We sell flavored lip gloss." Krystal looks off into space with a furrowed brow as if envisioning the perfect shade of lip gloss that will open Lisa Manoban's wallet. "Give you a bit of shine to kiss a pretty woman."

My spine goes rigid. My hands in Lisa's hair—her mouth so hot on mine—

"Anyway," Krystal says, picking up her bag, "see y'all soon. Always a pleasure."

Is it? I manage not to ask, cobbling together a tight smile for her before she leaves, oblivious to what she's provoked.

"So," Lisa says, not looking up from her computer as her fingertips fly over the keyboard, "I'll upload these notes to the cloud within ten minutes. Just give me a chance to proofread them."

"Fine," I say hoarsely. "That is, good. No mistakes."

"Got it." She still doesn't look up. "When do you want your lunch? There's space on your calendar at one."

"At one, then." I look at the untouched tray of Danishes that would wreak havoc on my thighs. It's essential to have them at every meeting, even if nobody eats them, but I do hate wasting food. It was anathema during my childhood. Along with a lot of other things I've been doing lately.

My stomach cramps when I think about my parents knowing what Lisa and I get up to after (or during) business hours. I can't believe how easy Lisa thinks it would be for me to say I'm…

"Upload the notes when you're done," I mutter. Before she can reply, I leave the conference room.

I've been drinking coffee all morning after a sleepless night, so I need to head to the ladies' room. On the way there, I run into Marcus and Sana having an intense conversation near the break room. What an unpleasant surprise.

They stop when they see me coming. Marcus smiles at me, but Sana's lips pinch shut. That's typical of them both: He covers up his resentment with friendliness, while Sana doesn't bother. I can't decide which approach annoys me more.

I raise my eyebrows. "I hope this is about work."

"Of course," Marcus says genially while Sana continues to stare daggers. I'm surprised she's so bold after her most recent reprimand. "Although nobody told me about the meeting with Krystal. Am I off the case now?"

Being booted off this case should upset Marcus, but he seems sunny. Perhaps he's really upset, then. Not that it matters. "You aren't, but I judged it best for me to meet with Krystal one-on-one today and remind her that this case has my full personal attention."

I might also have worried that Marcus would notice my distraction. It would have been more responsible to have him there so he could pick up on anything I might have missed, but…no. Lisa would have done that. She's attentive that way.

"Whatever you think best," Marcus says.

"Good morning, Jennie," Sana says, with dignity.

"Mm." I give her a nod and walk past them both, longing only for the security and privacy of my office for a few minutes before the whirl begins again.

As I round the corner, I'm fairly sure I hear Sana mutter something in an uncomplimentary tone, but it doesn't matter. I reach my office with a brief inhale of relief. It's more like home than that apartment will ever be, or whatever home I purchase once the Paces house sells.

I can't wait to get this fucking divorce over with. So far, it's been smooth sailing, but I'm tempted to give Taehyung everything he wants just to be free of this. Not that I will—I'd be a fool to give up half the fortune the Paces house will command—but for the first time in my life, I don't care all that much about winning.

What has that girl done to me?

I hear her footsteps just as my phone pings with a new email.

"Those will be the notes," Lisa says as she closes my office door behind her. "I think they're okay. I saw Marcus in the hall. He said he wanted to see them, too."

So Sana made herself scarce in the meantime. Maybe she's actually doing her job now. "Fine. Now, I—" But I can't look at her face. Flavored ChapStick. "I suppose you have a list of things you should be doing, so—"

Her fingertips are light on my chin. She turns my face toward hers, and when she kisses me, I taste pomegranate.

We're kissing now. It wasn't just a one-time thing. My blood and heart are singing in time at how deliciously right this feels. I'd strip for her again right now if I thought it would get her mouth on me. I'd do anything.

She pulls away with a soft gasp. "Uh…yeah. I've got a list."

What? I sway forward when she lets go and steps back. Her lips are pink. My mouth did that.

"So I'll go do my list. Right?" She looks at me imploringly, just like she did during our first time, when she'd told me I had to send her away or she wouldn't go.

I can't send her away, I can't—

My desk phone rings.

It snaps us both back to reality. Lisa inhales deeply and leaves my office without another word. I look at my phone as if I've never seen it before. The whole world is starting to look new these days.

You can't promise her what she wants, I remind myself. You can't promise her anything, and yet my blood sings again.

She wants to kiss me. I can give her that, at least. I silence the little voice that begs to give her more, begs me to say what she wants me to say: I want to touch you. I want you. Because I'm…

The phone rings again. I shake my head and stride to my desk to answer it. I've got work to do.