Emma is being torn asunder. Tae-min's hand crushes her wrist like a shackle of embers, while Kento's arm coils around her waist with a crushing possessiveness, yanking her back until she is flush against his broad chest. She can feel the unmistakable, burning hardness of his arousal pressing into the curve of her back.
The air inside the elevator is thick, saturated with Tae-min's sharp masculine musk and Kento's scent of clean coffee and wood. They fight over her in silence, their gazes lethal, their bodies radiating a heat that melts every cell in her frame. Emma's body—numbed and terrified for years—suddenly awakens in the eye of this storm. The warmth bleeding into her from Kento's thigh against hers, and the scorching breath from Tae-min's face inches away, sends pulses of forbidden desire coiling through her lower abdomen, leaving her limbs trembling with a lethal numbness.
But amidst this whirlpool of arousal and fear, the image of her father flashes in her mind. The image of the man who tried to strip away her will.
Emma snaps. This isn't a movement born of panic, but of pure, incandescent rage.
"ENOUGH!"
Emma screams at the top of her lungs. With a violent, sudden surge, she uses every ounce of her strength to elbow Kento's chest back while twisting her wrist with such force that she tears herself from Tae-min's grip, indifferent to the sharp pain lancing up her arm.
The two men stumble back for a split second, stunned by the sheer violence of her reaction. Emma stands in the center of the elevator, her chest heaving frantically, her amber eyes burning with a fire neither had seen before. Her dress is rumpled, her blonde hair a mess of provocative chaos.
"I am not a piece of meat for you to fight over!" Emma snarls, her gaze cutting between them like a blade. She points a finger at Kento first, her voice dripping with disappointment. "You were my manager, my safe place... Don't you dare use your strength to impose your will on me the way he does. Don't you ever touch me like that again without my permission."
Kento's face goes pale. He swallows hard, as if an invisible slap had just struck his face. He realizes in that moment how jealousy had blinded him, turning him into the very monster he had always tried to protect her from.
Then Emma turns toward Tae-min, stepping toward him with a defiance that rattles his ego. "And you... don't think for a second that I'll be your puppet because of a mistake I didn't even commit. You want me to fix this scandal? I'll do it on my terms, not under your threats."
Tae-min's pupils dilate. Her rebellion isn't just a fleeting cry; it is the rebirth of a woman refusing to be a victim. The rage in his eyes slowly transforms into a dark, shimmering glint of admiration—and lust.
Ding!
The elevator doors finally slide open on the top floor. But before any of them can take a step, they freeze.
Standing at the doors is a woman in her late thirties, wearing a sharply tailored white power suit and black-rimmed glasses. Her gaze is as cold as Siberian ice. Behind her stands a squad of four massive bodyguards.
"I see you're enjoying yourself, Tae-min, while our company's stock is plummeting on the exchange," the woman says, her voice devoid of emotion as she adjusts her glasses with a single finger.
"Yura..." Tae-min mutters, his jaw tightening visibly.
This was Yura, the CEO of his entertainment agency—the woman who had forged his legend with an iron fist. Yura strides into the elevator, ignoring Kento as if he were invisible. She turns to inspect Emma from head to toe with a clinical, harsh assessment, as if pricing merchandise at an auction.
"Blonde hair, foreign features, looks innocent... not bad," Yura murmurs. She turns to her guards. "Get this manager out of here. Bring the girl and Tae-min to the suite immediately. The press is already swarming the lobby."
"I won't let you take her!" Kento shouts, trying to push forward, but the four guards surround him in seconds, roughly shoving him toward the hallway. Two other guards shut the door on Tae-min, Emma, and Yura.
Emma watches Kento disappear through the glass, a lump forming in her throat, but she swallows it. There is no time for tears.
In the vast living room of the Royal Suite, Yura tosses a black leather file onto the glass table.
"The whole world is talking about the two of you," Yura says coldly, sitting down and crossing her legs. "The video the sasaeng took shows Tae-min half-naked, embracing you. The Japanese and Korean press are in a frenzy. We have only one solution to save his career."
Yura looks directly into Emma's eyes. "As of this moment, you are no longer a maid. You are 'Emma,' Tae-min's secret girlfriend whom he met in America, working at the hotel under a fake identity just to be near him. You will sign a 'Fake Dating' contract for six months. You will receive one hundred thousand dollars upon signing, and another hundred thousand upon completion. In exchange, you will live with him, appear with him, and play the role of the devoted lover."
"What?!" Emma gasps, looking at Tae-min in shock. "Live with him? Impossible!"
"You don't have a choice," Tae-min interjects, his gravelly voice echoing as he steps up beside her. "If you walk out that door now, the reporters will devour you. The internet will dig up your past, and the whole world will know exactly who you are and where you ran from."
"I'll leave you two to review the contract. I have calls to make," Yura says, rising and heading for the balcony, leaving them alone.
The moment the balcony door shuts, Tae-min turns toward Emma. The rage is gone, replaced by a predatory, calculated calm. He approaches her with slow steps, forcing her back until the edge of the glass table bites into the back of her thighs.
He cages her again, but this time without violence. He places his hands on the table on either side of her waist, leaning his massive frame in until his chest brushes against hers with a deliberate, lethal tenderness.
"Move back..." Emma whispers, her voice coming out fractured and breathless.
"You can't run, Emma," Tae-min whispers, his tone dropping to a velvet rasp against her nerves. One of his hands slides from the table, coming to rest on her exposed thigh beneath the short dress. She feels the heat of his rough fingers searing her skin, making her gasp and close her eyes involuntarily.
He moves his fingers upward with agonizing slowness, stroking her inner thigh with a delicacy that sends blood rushing to her head. It ignites a fire in her lower abdomen that makes her unconsciously arch her back toward him.
"Your body doesn't lie," he whispers against her lips, his breath mingling with hers. His other hand slides up to cup the back of her neck, his thumb massaging her in a way that numbs all her resistance. "You crave this contact as much as you fear it. You left your 'gentle' manager because you realized you need a real fire to burn away the shadows of your past... and I am that fire."
He leans in further, planting an open, wet, searing kiss on the side of her neck, timed perfectly with the slow, provocative movement of his fingers on her thigh. Emma lets out a low moan, her mind drowning in a fog of forbidden pleasure and sudden, sharp need. She hates him, she hates his arrogance, but her body is surrendering to his overwhelming expertise in playing the chords of her long-repressed femininity.
"Sign the contract, Emma," Tae-min hisses against her skin, his lips brushing her earlobe. "Be mine in front of the cameras... and when we're alone, I'll show you how I can make you forget every man who ever hurt you."
Emma opens her eyes, filled with desire and confusion. She looks at his lips, so painfully close, and then at the gold pen resting atop the black contract. She is on the edge of the abyss, and signing means a freefall into this burning hell.