JENNIE

Lisa Manoban had been staring at me all day—from the cover of an Architectural Digest magazine Somi had left on the desk for Wendy and me. In an urbane suit, arms crossed as she leaned in the doorway of a beautiful, midcentury home, while wearing an expression somewhere between smirk and smile , it was no surprise she'd landed the cover of Architectural Digest. She stood like a king in front of her latest masterpiece.

All day I'd avoided her stare, but as day turned to night, and the office emptied, my resolve to stay away weakened. With Taehyung back in New York on business for the week, and mostly giving me the silent treatment after Saturday night's accusation, I'd been working late each night.

I scanned the three-page article. Lisa's firm, Pierson/Greer, was within walking distance from my office. I'd already known she was a pioneer in modern design, but apparently, she was one of the most in-demand architects in Chicago, too.

I closed the magazine and moved to my laptop to type her name in a search engine.

L-I-S-A M-A-N-

Lisa Manoban. There she was. The first link went to Architectural Digest, and the next few, I'd already visited for research on the feature. Farther down the page, things shifted away from Lisa.

"GQS will acquire Multi-Parcel Express, CEO Gerard Manoban announces"

Gerard Manoban. Lisa's father was the CEO of worldwide shipping company Global Quick Speedy? A search on Gerard provided endless articles, both business and personal. A profile of his home life presented four perfect smiles: Gerard and his wife, Judy, 2 daughters, Jihyo, and Lisa. There was no mistaking Lisa's sister, who had the same obsidian hair that complemented clear brown eyes and long black lashes.

Lisa was magnificently photogenic with a piercing gaze and sturdy features. I sifted through images of her, mostly working or at events. Her tall frame and broad shoulders dwarfed anyone who posed with her. A profile shot with her sister, laughing and dressed in head-to-toe black, could've been from an advertisement.

A few rows down, red-carpet Lisa's arm rested around Mina's waist. Her green eyes narrowed at the camera as if gloating. Two more photos with her. And another with a leggy redhead.

Was anyone immune to her spell? Could she turn any married woman against herself, make her question the life she'd been so certain was right? I hated that these women got to live in Lisa's attention out in the open—and take it home with them at night.

Get wrapped up in her embrace.

Senses stolen by her kiss . . .

I shouldn't know how that felt, but I did. I'd tasted it only a few moments, but I wanted more. But perhaps even more , I vehemently wished these women would never experience it again. That the kiss had meant something to her, and I hadn't just been another in a long line.

But what right did I have to even think like that?

Taehyung couldn't have known how right he was comparing my behavior to my mother's.

Jealousy. Madness. Irrationality. Obsession.

In the weeks before she'd lost control, she'd picked fights with my dad and me over stupid things like not turning out a light after leaving a room, or over not-so-small things, like how she suddenly hated Dallas and wanted to move. She'd confided in me that she'd begun following my father and had seen him get out of a cab with the same woman she'd found in his office—his client, Gina, I'd later learn. But at the time, hiding my mom's secret stalking had kept me up at night.

Now, here I was, unable to stop scrolling down the page, except when I saw Lisa with a different woman. Who was the blonde? An ex, a friend, a fuck buddy?

Why was I doing this? It'd gone beyond research and morphed into—

"Bad news?"

I gasped, nearly jumping out of my chair when Lisa appeared in the doorway as if I'd conjured her. I slammed my laptop closed. "What?"

She took a few measured steps into the office. "You look upset."

Any hope I had of calming my heart rate went out the door as it raced at the sight of the most beautiful person I'd ever seen, come to life from the cover of a magazine. Here in my office. At night.

Since our kiss almost a week earlier, I'd had one pervading thought—don't think of the kiss.

It never happened.

Never speak, or think, of it again.

Yet the harder I tried to forget it, the more I remembered.

Her breath caressing my lips, her so dashing in a tuxedo that she could sweep any girl away within seconds . . .

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I was driving home from my office and saw your light on."

At the end of the workday, in a tailored suit jacket, her slacks wrinkle-free, dress shirt open at the collar, Lisa was both put together and casual. "That's not a reason," I said.

She cleared her throat and checked her watch. "There's no one at the security desk downstairs," she said. "I walked right into the building and up here. Didn't even need a keycard."

"And?"

"It's unsafe. You should file a complaint." She glanced at the Architectural Digest, opened to her spread, then at one of two framed pictures that'd been added to the corner of the desk since her last visit. Lisa picked one up. "Who's this?"

"Wendy. The other woman up for my promotion."

"Why do you have her photo on your desk?"

"We share this office," I said. "When Wendy saw the picture of Jisoo and me, she brought in one of hers."

"To mark her territory." She picked up a picture from this weekend. Taehyung and me at the cabin with Jisoo and Bohyun. "And it looks like you retaliated. That was quick."

Wendy had been taking over the desk, as if she'd thought my photo had been a challenge. Her planner sat in the top drawer. Her stationery on the desk had multiplied. But that wasn't why I'd displayed the picture taken over the dinner Bohyun and Taehyung had caught us. Before my fight with Taehyung had ruined the weekend, we'd laughed, snuggled, and shared memories with our friends. I needed to keep that close.

Lisa set down the frame. "Thank you for the help with the tuxedo."

I flattened a hand on my desk and forced away the tempting memory. "How was the event?"

"That's not why I'm here." Her jaw set, her expression unreadable. "I came to find out if you need anything else from me for the article."

I moved my hands to my lap with her clipped request. "Well—we need to do a photo shoot for the spread. I may need some details to fill in the article—"

"Are you writing it?" She asked.

"Yes."

"You said you prefer to edit."

"I do." I shifted in my seat. "But I write, too, as you know, and since you insisted on only working with me, you're my bachelorette. So I thought . . ."

Our eyes met, my claim over her hanging between us.

"You said you trusted me and only me to handle it," I reminded her. "So that's what I'm doing."

"Things change," she said abruptly. "I'd like to arrange for any remaining obligations of mine to go through someone else."

"Like a liaison?" I asked.

"And do you need to be present for the photo shoot?"

In the short time I'd known Lisa, determination had hardened her voice many times, but this was something else. Finality. Resolution.

Maybe even . . . good-bye?

"I should be present, yes, but I can have Wendy—"

"It's best that we end our personal and professional relationships here," she said.

My heart dropped. Except that I should've been grateful. I'd prayed for this, and my pleas had been answered.

Lisa and I had crossed several lines. Not just personal ones, but professional, too. On Jisoo's balcony weeks ago, panic had risen in my chest at the thought of never seeing Lisa again. It happened again now—and it had nothing to do with the fact that this could threaten my promotion.

I cleared my throat and slid a rogue paperclip across the desk, depositing it into its compartment in the top drawer. "The Meet and Greet is this weekend," I muttered.

"I'll be there. I'm not backing out. I've made a commitment, and I intend to see it through. But I will work with—was it Wendy?—going forward."

It was the dismissive tone I'd heard Lisa use with others like my boss and even her associate Arnaud. But never with me.

And it hurt.

This was why I'd been honing my self-preservation skills since thirteen years old. This was why I acted on logic, not emotion.

Anything else ended in pain.

"I understand." It was a struggle to get the words out, but I hid my disappointment behind a mask. "I'll make the arrangements."

She looked to me, waiting.

"Was there something else?" I asked.

Frustration flashed across her features. "Yes, there is. I told you I'd never kiss a married woman, Jennie. I believed that about myself."

I didn't want to care, but a sliver of relief worked through me that she did. Her iciness was more deeply rooted than she'd let on. I'd take her anger over her apathy, even though I was doing my best to come off indifferent as well. "How is that my fault?" I asked. "You've been pursuing me since the moment we met."

"But not because I was interested in having an affair. I'm not."

"What then?" I asked, curling my fingers against the surface of the desk. "You came onto me at the ballet, and then at Jisoo's apartment, then almost kissed me on the rooftop. Then you did kiss me. You can't stand there and blame this on me."

She snorted. "It's not your fault, Jennie. I told you I wouldn't cross that line, and I did. I take full responsibility, but the truth is . . ." Her expression turned pained. "I've never been unable to trust myself. And I can't with you."

I knew the feeling, and yet, I couldn't dismiss the evidence against Lisa. Not just what I'd heard, but what I'd seen moments ago on my computer screen. There was no way in hell she'd not been presented with an opportunity like this before. "You asked me if I've ever had an affair, and I told you I haven't," I said. "Have you?"

"Never. My attraction to you goes against all of my beliefs." She ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head. "My parents, who are my world, have been happily married for thirty-seven years. I'd kill anyone who tried to come between them."

I sat back in my seat, surprised by her candidness. She struggled with our connection, too. Despite her persistence, loyalty meant something to her. That was why she'd stormed out of Jisoo's office. But her idolization of her parents' marriage made her even more attractive. Maybe she wasn't pursuing me because she wanted to. Maybe she wasn't playing with fire. Maybe, like me, the burn found her wherever she went, consuming and growing stronger, compelling her toward me.

"Then why are you here?" I asked. "Why did you come to my office the first time—why threaten to stop pretending when we're alone if it's not because you want to fuck me?"

Her Adam's apple bobbed as she swallowed and glanced away. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

Once she did, once she said it aloud, that would be it. If Lisa truly wasn't after me for an affair, for one night of giving in, then did that mean she wanted . . . more?

More could only mean one thing.

Breaking up my marriage.

Taking a hammer to the life I'd sculpted.

And it was clear to both of us—that wasn't an option.

"Fine," I said. "Yuna will be in touch about anything else. I'll see you at the event."

She rubbed her eyebrow, staying where she was. "Let me drive you home."

"What?" I frowned. "You just said we couldn't see each other again."

"It's not again. It's after dark. The Loop is quiet this time of night. And without a security guard—"

"No," I said firmly.

"Then I'll at least walk you to the train. Get you a cab. Whatever. It's your safety."

"Look, I get it," I said with a sigh. "This is your thing."

Her brow furrowed. "What's my thing?"

"You're a gentleman. You're just not mine."

With us, it was all or nothing—and it couldn't be all. If she even walked me downstairs, we'd be doing something wrong. Just being here with her was a transgression.

I didn't have to explain that to her. Lisa hesitated a moment, then turned and walked out.

I should've been thankful. I should've been relieved. I thought of Taehyung, and knew this was the right thing. I thought of Lisa, and the idea of not seeing her again after this weekend hurt in the spot my heart should be.

I got up from my desk and went to the door. In another life, I would've called Lisa back. If I were a different woman, I wouldn't let someone like her get away. Was it her, though, or was it that she sparked things in me I'd been able to control for the last sixteen years?

I closed the office door and leaned my back against it, physically steeling myself from going after her.

I'd committed a greater crime than kissing another man. I'd let her believe my marriage could be penetrated. That she could waltz in and take me from Taehyung. That I was missing something in my life that she could give me.

I'd let myself believe that.

No—I'd already known I'd never have those disruptive and often sought-after wild emotions with Taehyung, but I'd made an agreement with myself when I'd made a commitment to him. A stable, predictable life was better than a volatile one. Passion always came with pain.

The clock above the door ticked down, but I couldn't bring myself to move. If I opened my laptop again, I'd be faced with Lisa and her girls. If I went home, I'd be alone with my Lisa-fueled thoughts.

But then, the elevator dinged. My heart soared as shoes hit the ground.

Lisa.

She'd come back. Or had she never left?

Was she also doing everything she could to convince herself staying apart was the right thing?

Or was it simply that she couldn't resist getting me home safely, even though I wasn't her to protect?

My heart pounded faster as her footsteps neared and then stopped outside my office. My willpower was only so strong. She was the one who'd said this couldn't go on. Why was she back to make us each suffer more?

I turned slowly, hesitated with my hand on the doorknob, then opened the door.

And met the angry, burning gaze of Mark Alvarez.