JENNIE

Yuna followed me to my new shared office with two cups of steaming coffee. The intern I'd tasked with helping out on the "Most Eligible" feature had kept me well-caffeinated while also completing most tasks almost immediately. I had a feeling she was gunning to get hired as an assistant.

As we navigated through cubicles, Yuna gave me the lowdown on her weekend, spent in her boyfriend's studio apartment binge-watching TV.

"What's Enter the Dragon?" I interrupted as she covered the highlights of their movie marathon.

Her eyes doubled in size. "Only a martial arts classic," she said, handing me a mug as I sat behind my desk. "Brock and I could lose days just on Chinese cinema."

"Sounds like you did," I said with a grin. "What's the latest with the bachelors and bachelorettes?"

She pulled a folder from under her arm and handed it to me. "One of the them wants to meet with you today. She's interested but has some concerns she wouldn't address with me."

"She has concerns? We haven't even narrowed our selections yet." I opened the file, glancing over a one-page typed sheet Yuna had obviously cobbled together. Thirty-four, employed, single. "Did Wendy call her?"

"She came to us. Apparently, she's been asked to participate in the past but turned it down. Now she's reconsidering."

"Well, that's bold of her. What makes her think we still want her?"

"Trust me," she said in a low tone that made me look up. "We want her. She's the definition of gorgeous. Like, if you Google the word, she'll come up."

I frowned. Attraction was subjective, and it wasn't the defining quality on which we'd make our final selections. "There's no photo here."

"The printer's out of ink, but it wouldn't do her justice anyway. She literally called a half hour ago, so I threw the file together. Just look her up."

"I trust your judgment to at least meet with her." I checked my watch. "As if I don't have enough to do first thing Monday morning."

"I can ask Wendy," Yuna said, holding out her hand for the file. Her eyes glinted. "But since she's a likely finalist, I thought you might want to reel her in."

She had a point there. If I knew Wendy, she'd already been plotting ways to edge me out of the promotion. "I'll make time," I said.

"Great. She'll be here at eleven."

"Who'll be here at eleven?" my boss asked from the doorway.

Yuna whipped her head over her shoulder as I straightened up. Despite Mr. Beman's small frame, the office shrank when he was in it. "A highly promising potential bachelorette," I said, doing my best to sound convincing even though this one could've been repulsive for all I knew. I opened the file and squinted as I read off, "Pranpriya Manoban."

Beman raised his eyebrows. "From Pierson/Greer?"

Yuna subtly nodded at me.

"Er, yes," I said. "That's the one."

"Incredible. Nice work," Beman said but wagged a finger at me. "She doesn't go by Pranpriya, though. I'm sure you knew that?"

"Of course," I said.

Priya it is.

"She's a bit private," Beman continued. "Only does work-related interviews. Diane tried for years to score her, but she wasn't even able to get her on the phone. An in-person interview is promising."

I smiled, silently thanking Yuna for coming to me with this before Wendy could get her hands on it. Clearly, I had to do whatever necessary to land this one.

"I believe Jen is all set on coffee," Beman said to Yuna, dismissing her with a nod.

"Oh, right." She shrugged at me. "Let me know if you need a refill."

"Have a fresh pot ready for Ms. Manoban," I said.

She nodded on her way out, barely squeezing by Beman as he fixed his tie. "This would be a huge coup, Jen," he said. "If you manage to get Ms. Manoban in the issue, well . . ." Beman tilted his head as if presenting a challenge. "She'll sell magazines. And I like to sell magazines."

So did I. Especially since that would be the key to unlocking my promotion. "I'll do my best."

"Do better than your best," he said. "Make it happen. Any other updates?"

"I'd actually love to run an idea by you," I said, setting aside Pranpriya—Priya's —file and opening a spreadsheet on my computer. With Taehyung out of town, I'd spent my weekend brainstorming fresh ideas to set myself apart from Wendy. "As you know, the issue's launch party is perhaps the magazine's biggest event of the year. Why not capitalize on the buzz? We could throw an invite-only exclusive pre-party, like a meet and greet for the finalists. Since many of them are local celebrities, it would drum up some publicity before we go to press."

"Publicity is good," he agreed. "I've already promised Russ it'll be our best-selling issue of the year, and since I also assured him this would be our most profitable quarter yet, that would make this our best-selling issue of all time."

Beman made no secret of his great expectations each year—each issue —and as an easy sell to the public, "Most Eligible" had a target on its back. Especially when making promises to the CEO of our parent company. Beman had just never directed those expectations at me since I'd had Diane as a buffer in the past.

I swallowed, trying not to look spooked. "It will be," I said. "That's why we're pulling out all the stops."

He worked his jaw side to side before nodding. "Get me your projected costs for this pre-party by Wednesday. I'll see if there's a budget. We'll need sponsors to foot the majority of the bill."

"I'll get started now."

"Oh, and might I suggest a little touch-up before meeting with Ms. Manoban?" he asked, gesturing around his pursed lips. "No harm in trying to look nice for guests."

I held my fake smile until he blustered out. I wouldn't have put it past Beman to pimp us out to guarantee a best-selling issue, but how bad did I look? I'd slept fitfully all weekend, tossing and turning over my encounter with the Alvarez brother—and worse, the one with Lisa. Maybe it wasn't my fears that kept me up, but my guilt. Taehyung didn't know anything yet. Every time I went to call him, or respond to his texts, the wrong person flashed across my mind.

Lisa.

I shouldn't get a thrill when I thought of her eyes on me. I shouldn't wonder if I'd ever see her again. When it came to Lisa, I shouldn't feel or do anything—except forget.

My desk phone buzzed, jarring me out of a virtual black hole of research on alcohol sponsors for the Meet and Greet event. I dropped my pen on my open notebook and grabbed the receiver.

"Ms. Manoban's at the front," Somi said breathlessly. "Should I show her to your office? I'd be happy to."

"Have Yuna bring her back," I said, closing out of the browser. "She'll be assisting me with the feature and should get to know the candidates."

"Candidates?" Somi asked, lowering her voice. "If you don't pick this one for the feature, you'll be joining Diane in the unemployment line. Beman's out here flirting so hard, I'm afraid he's going to pull a muscle."

I raised my eyebrows, pleased. "Is Ms. Manoban like . . .?" I asked, also whispering but for no reason. One thing Wendy and I agreed on—Diane's selections over the years had been too homogenous.

"No ," Somi said. "And she looks uncomfortable."

"Then get off the phone and call Yuna," I said, hanging up.

A surge of panic hit me. I hadn't expected to conduct any interviews this early on in the process, and everything I knew about Priya Manoban was in a folder I'd barely peeked at. I hadn't forgotten Beman's unsubtle threat about fixing myself up, either.

I peeled off my borderline homely wool cardigan and took an emergency makeup kit from my handbag. Fortunately, Diane had hung a mirror on the back of the door. Balancing my cosmetic bag on the arm of the couch, I chose raspberry-colored lip gloss that left threads of goop when I smoothed my lips together. I had just enough time to comb my fingers through my hair when Yuna's voice came from the hall.

"It's just right back this way, Ms. Manoban," she said. "So, are you, like, from Chicago?"

"Born and raised in Illinois."

I reached behind myself for the makeup bag and knocked it over, spilling products all over the floor.

Shit.

I squatted, threw everything back in record time, and went to stand when a green Clinique tube caught my eye. I squatted to slip my arm to where it had rolled between the wall and couch as the door opened.

"Jennie," the voice said as I grasped the lipstick.

Not just any voice. I recognized that chest-rumbling voice that had been reverberating through me for days.

Palming the tube, I turned. Burnished, brandy-colored leather brogues stared back at me. My eyes drifted up a long body and landed on a familiar face that managed to be both intense and expressionless.

My mystery stranger. Sultry, penetrating eyes from the theater. Broad, walled-off shoulders that had shielded us on Jisoo's balcony.

Lisa.

Her sharp, navy suit followed every edge of her body, from the cliffs her shoulders created to her trim waist to the hem that hit just the right spot of her shoes despite her height. She wore her collar open with no tie, and the exposed skin of her collarbone made my breath catch.

How long had I been staring, kneeling at her feet like her disciple? Why couldn't I speak? If the office had seemed smaller before, it became a shoebox now, especially from my current position. Her presence could barely be contained.

"Lisa?" I asked.

"Were you expecting someone else?"

"Yes." I rocked off my heels and finally stood, smoothing my hands over my dress. "Priya Manoban."

"Do you always do this much research before an interview?" By the quirk of her mouth, I assumed she was teasing me, though I couldn't be sure. "Pranpriya is my first name. I've always gone by my middle, though."

"Lisa," I said. "Lisa . . . Manoban."

"Lisa Manoban," she confirmed with a nod.

Yuna hadn't taken her eyes off of Lisa, clearly starstruck. "You know each other?"

"Not really, no," I said quickly, holding out my hand. What else could I do? It was best that I didn't know her, and so I'd pretend that was the case. "I'm so sorry for the mix-up. Nice to meet you."

Lisa glanced down, seeming to debate whether to call out my lie or to go along with it. After a moment, she took my hand and squeezed it. "Your hand is cold," she said.

"I'm sorry," I said and tried to take it back, but she kept it in a firm grip. As we held each other's gaze, her palm warmed mine. Heat crept up my arm to my chest. By the time she released me, I was half-thawed, half-chilled, my nipples hardening in my bra.

Yuna broke the silence. "I can bring coffee," she quipped. "How do you take it, Ms. Manoban?"

How do you take it?

How do you like it, Ms. Manoban?

I didn't even really know her, but I thought I knew the answer.

She liked it her way.

I wiped excess lip gloss from the corner of my mouth.

She didn't even blink. "Black is fine."

"I'll be back in a jiff," Yuna said.

Once alone, I returned to my spot behind the desk. "Have a seat, Ms. Manoban," I said, gesturing to a chair.

"Call me Lisa."

"I wasn't expecting to see you again." I avoided her eyes and picked up a pen, unclicked it, and put it in a pencil holder before rearranging its contents.

She laughed softly as she sat. "I should think not after the way you ran away from me on the balcony."

I straightened up, looking across the desk at her. "I didn't run away," I said. "You left the party—you were the one . . ." I stopped at the slight smirk on her face. If she'd been trying to get a rise out of me, she'd succeeded in no time at all—again. "Nobody ran away from anyone," I said. "We had a normal conversation, that's all."

"You've had conversations like that before?"

"Me? No," I said without missing a beat. "I meant normal for you."

Her expression eased. She gripped the arms of the chair and looked around. "I love what you've done with your office," she said wryly. "It's . . . inviting."

As if the bare walls weren't bland enough, the brown carpet was the matted and grimy type that I never wanted to touch with bare feet. The only personal thing I had was a photo of myself with Rosé and Jisoo that Jisoo had taken, printed, framed, and brought over my first week at the magazine.

"It's not mine," I said. "I'm just borrowing it."

She glanced around the room. In the daylight, her mysteriousness persisted. But in an office, with the desk between us, she somehow seemed less threatening. And if possible, more beautiful.

"Is Diane coming back?" she asked, turning back to me.

"Oh—well, no." It shouldn't have surprised me that she knew Diane, except that Mr. Beman had made it sound as if they'd never spoken. I shifted in my seat. "Weirdly, I'm the new point person on the 'Most Eligible Bachelors and Bachelorettes' feature. Well, one of them."

"Why is that weird?"

"First, I run into you at Jisoo's. Two days later, we're meeting again. It's just a weird coincidence is all."

She nodded slowly, as if processing for the first time that this might be out of the ordinary. And then, she shook her head. "You think this is a coincidence?"

More teasing. Wasn't it? I frowned. "I mean, yes . . .?"

"Isn't there a chance I came here looking for you?" she asked.

In the few minutes she'd been here, that possibility hadn't crossed my mind, yet she didn't laugh or even smirk. "You don't know anything about me, but you and Diane have discussed putting you in the feature. So it makes more sense you'd come here to see her and found me instead."

"Or maybe it's fate?" she raised her chin. "That's a nice way of looking at it."

"Not fate, Ms. Manoban. This isn't a John Cusack film."

She chuckled. "Diane and I never discussed my participation. I don't even know who she is beyond the fact that an editor at this magazine has left me several messages over the years that I've never returned." Lisa leaned her elbows on her knees, her eyes dancing. "I came here for you, Jennie Kim. I warned you I could be persistent."