Naomi is halfway to the door when I speak.

"Wait."

She pauses, glancing back at me, brow arching. Hee-Ra stops beside her, arms crossing like she’s already preparing to fight whatever battle Naomi deems necessary.

The others don’t move, but I feel their attention shift. Jisoo leans back on the couch, unreadable as ever. Seon tilts his head, watching with the same quiet amusement he always carries. Jae? He just smirks, like he already knows something the rest of us don’t.

I ignore them.

Rising from my seat, I take measured steps toward Naomi, stopping just close enough that she has to tilt her chin slightly to meet my gaze.

"A word."

Her expression flickers with something—curiosity? Annoyance? I can’t quite tell. Probably both.

She exhales sharply. “Fine. Make it quick.”

I glance at Hee-Ra. “Alone.”

Hee-Ra doesn’t move immediately. She looks at Naomi, waiting for her cue. When Naomi shrugs, unimpressed, she exhales and steps away. “I’ll be by the elevators,” she mutters, throwing one last look at me before disappearing through the door.

"Follow me." I say, taking her by the arm and leading her to an empty meeting room. Now it's just the two of us.

Naomi shifts her weight onto one foot, arms crossing. “Well?”

I study her for a moment. Up close, she’s more guarded than she lets on. Her disinterest, the sarcasm—it’s all a shield. But her eyes… her eyes give her away.

She’s already considering it.

“You’re hesitating,” I say.

She scoffs. “I haven’t decided anything.”

I tilt my head. “Haven’t you?”

Her jaw tenses, but she doesn’t deny it.

Good.

I lean against the door, cutting off the only exit she has. "This contract isn’t just about showing up to events and smiling for cameras. If you agree, you’re stepping into something you can’t walk away from whenever you feel like it."

She hums. “And you think I can’t handle it?”

“I think you don’t know what you’re walking into.”

Her gaze sharpens. “And you do?”

“I’ve lived it.”

Silence.

Her fingers tap against her arm, thoughtful. “Why do you care?”

I hesitate. I shouldn’t. I should let her make her choice without interference. But for some reason, I do care.

Because she isn’t what I expected.

And that intrigues me more than it should.

“This won’t be easy,” I say finally. “It will be invasive. Exhausting. You’ll be scrutinized for everything you do.” I pause, letting the weight of my words settle. “And if you slip up, if you make a mistake… you’ll be the one who pays for it.”

Naomi doesn’t flinch. She just watches me, gaze steady. Then, slowly, she smirks.

“You’re trying to scare me.”

“I’m warning you.”

She tilts her head. “Why?”

Instead of answering, I push off the desk, closing the space between us in a single step. Her breath catches—not fear, not quite—but the tension between us shifts. I reach up, slowly, deliberately, and brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers linger just a second too long.

Her smirk falters.

“You think this is just cameras and hand-holding?” My voice is quiet, low, meant only for her. “It won’t be that simple.”

She stands her ground, but I see the way her fingers curl against her arms, her body going taut. I lower my voice even more, letting the words drag out just enough. “Imagine the kind of moments we’ll have to sell. Every look. Every touch.” My hand drops, ghosting over her wrist before pulling away. “The way I’d have to hold you. The way you’d have to let me.”

Her throat bobs, but she doesn’t move.

I lean in just slightly, enough to brush close, enough to make my point. “Are you sure you can handle that, Naomi?”

For the first time, she doesn’t have a snarky reply ready.

She exhales, stepping back just enough to put space between us, but not enough to look like she’s backing down. Then, she smiles, slow and confident, regaining her composure.

“Oh, Min,” she murmurs, voice dripping with amusement. “You say that like I’m the one who should be worried.”

I don’t react. I don’t let my expression shift. Naomi shifts on her feet, arms still locked, defensive. She’s wary, but she doesn’t shy away from my gaze. Good.

"You keep acting like this is some harmless little arrangement," I say, voice low, deliberate. "Like all you have to do is show up, smile, and cash a paycheck. But that’s not how this works."

Her lips press together, but she doesn’t look away.

I take a slow step forward, just enough to watch her notice. "This isn’t a simple PR stunt, Naomi. This is going to consume your life. The way you walk, the way you talk, the way you react to me—it all has to sell the fantasy. Every time we’re seen together, every time we so much as glance at each other in public, people will be analyzing it. Looking for cracks. And if they find one?" I tilt my head. "You’ll be the one who pays."

Her fingers curl slightly, but she keeps her stance. "I get it. Make it look real. Play the part. I’m not an idiot."

I huff out a short, amused breath. "You say that now, but do you actually understand what that means?"

She crosses her arms. "I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me."

I step closer. Another inch. Enough to test a boundary. She doesn’t step back. Interesting.

"It means there’s no hesitation. No second-guessing. It means if I reach for your hand in public, you don’t flinch. If I lean in close, you don’t tense. If someone asks about us, you answer like it’s second nature. You lie so well, you start believing it yourself."

Her throat bobs slightly. "I can handle that."

I study her, then shake my head. "You’re thinking about the big moments. The staged photos, the scripted interviews. That’s the easy part. But it’s not just that. It’s the small things. The way you look at me when you think no one’s watching. The way you react if I touch you. If I whisper something just for you."

She narrows her eyes slightly, and I catch the way her fingers twitch like she’s resisting the urge to fold them into fists.

I take another step, erasing the last of the space between us. My voice drops lower, just for her. "Like this."

I lift a hand, slow, giving her time to react. I tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger just a second too long. Her breath hitches, barely noticeable, but I catch it. My lips quirk slightly.

"See? That right there? That hesitation?" I murmur. "That would be a problem. If this were in public, that moment would be dissected in real-time. People would notice. They’d say, ‘she looks uncomfortable, maybe it’s not real.’ And then everything falls apart."

She exhales sharply through her nose, eyes flickering with something—annoyance, maybe. "So what, you want me to throw myself at you? Act lovesick? Gaze at you like you hung the damn moon?"

I chuckle. "You don’t have to do all that. But if I were to do this—" I lift my hand again, this time letting my knuckles graze along her jaw, featherlight. "You don’t react like I just caught you off guard. You act like it’s normal. Expected. Like you crave it."

She swallows, and for the first time since we stepped in here, she finally takes a half step back. A retreat. It’s slight, but it’s there.

"You sure you can handle that, Naomi?" I murmur, voice like silk. "Because once you sign that contract, there’s no taking it back."

She squares her shoulders, eyes flashing with something sharp, determined. "You’re enjoying this way too much."

I smirk, finally stepping back, letting her breathe. "Maybe. Or maybe I just want to make sure you understand what you’re getting into."

She exhales, shoulders stiff. "Trust me, I do."

Naomi moves before I can finish, striding toward the door with full intent to leave. But I’m faster. Her hand barely brushes the door handle before I step in, cutting off her exit. One hand presses against the door beside her head, the other mirroring it on the other side, caging her in.

I hear the small intake of breath she makes before she catches herself, standing stiff, unmoving. Her shoulders square. She tilts her chin up, feigning nonchalance even as she’s forced to meet my gaze.

"You’re really fond of blocking doors, aren’t you?" Her voice is dry, unimpressed. "I’m starting to think it’s a complex."

I smirk. "You’re really fond of acting indifferent." I lower my voice slightly. "I’m starting to think it’s an act."

Her expression doesn’t shift, but there’s something different in her eyes now. A calculation. She’s testing me as much as I’m testing her.

Good.

I dip my head just slightly, enough to close the space between us. Not touching, but close enough that she’d have to make a real effort not to react. Close enough that she feels the presence of me.

"This isn’t just a business deal," I murmur. "This is an illusion we have to make real for everyone watching. That means public appearances. Interviews. Late-night dates. Touching—" My gaze flickers over her face, gauging every shift in her expression. "Convincing touching."

She doesn’t step back. Doesn’t shift away.

Instead, she meets my stare head-on. "I know what I signed up for."

I reach up, trailing my fingers along the length of her ponytail, barely touching, just enough for her to feel the movement. The smallest motion, yet the tension spikes instantly.

"Do you?" I hum, brushing the tips of my fingers along the line of her jaw, slow, intentional. "Because if you keep freezing up this easily now, how do you plan to handle it in front of a crowd?"

She doesn’t flinch, but I feel the tightness in her stance. A second longer, and she finally scoffs, rolling her eyes. "You really think this is going to shake me?"

I let my lips quirk. "We’ll see."

And then I push off the door, stepping back and granting her space.

Her shoulders don’t relax immediately, but she masks it well, straightening her shirt as if nothing happened.

"Anything else?" she asks, voice cool.

I tilt my head slightly, studying her for a beat longer than necessary before I finally gesture toward the door. "For now? No."

She wastes no time pulling it open and stepping out without another glance back.

I watch her go, my smirk lingering. She’s definitely not what I expected. And this is going to be very interesting.