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I squirmed. “Yes?”

“Unbelievable priorities,” she muttered, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Look – never mind about the price tag – the point is that people know Maison Lumière is his brand, and now people have seen you walking around in a piece they haven’t even released for general sale yet. Can you see how that looks?”

“Maybe I bought it for myself?” I said weakly.

Becka didn’t even give me the courtesy of pretending this was conceivable.

“Yeah, alright,” I cut her off before she could open her mouth. “Okay, so, PR person–what do I do?”

“Nothing.”

“Come again?”

Becka leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers.

“Literally the only thing you can do. Ignore it. Look, if no one has come for you about it yet, you’re probably fine. The worst thing you can do is respond and give it more oxygen. Just carry on and act like you either don’t know, or don’t care.”

“I was happier not knowing,” I muttered.

“So go back to that happy place. Just, maybe not wear it to any more public events?”

“Jihoon told me I should wear it to the premier,” I protested, and then, in a blinding bit of realisation, my mouth snapped shut.

“What?” Becka demanded. “What’s that face for? Babes!”

“Gotta go.” I waved at the screen and reached for the red button.

“BABES–”

I ended the call on Becka’s outraged face, because if I kept talking, I’d say something I couldn’t confirm. I looked at my watch and blew out a sigh. Still hours before anyone would be back, so I did the only thing I could. I got on with my work and resolutely ignored all social media.

I pretended to be asleep when Sihyeon finally came in. I lay under the covers, listening impatiently as she went about getting ready for bed, and then giving her a while after she turned off her lamp to ensure the soft breaths didn’t falter as I quietly extracted myself, fully-dressed, and snuck out of the room.

I knew what floor his room was on, although I’d never been there, and though I knew it was unlikely anyone would be wandering around at past one in the morning, I jumped at each sound as I walked down his corridor. He’d told me at every new hotel we stayed in what number he was in, as if he always hoped I’d use the information. I never had.

Until now.

I approached his door, nervously expecting security to jump out. I knew they were also staying on this floor, and with that information in mind, I knocked so quietly that I cursed under my breath, thinking there was no way he could have heard it. I had just raised my fist to knock again when the door flew open, and a pair of strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me off my feet and lifting me into the room before I could so much as squeak.

The next moment, the door was closed, and I was pressed up against it.

“Jagiya,” a warm voice rumbled against my neck before even warmer lips trailed soft kisses down to my collarbone.

“How did you know it was me?” My voice was embarrassingly breathy as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

He laughed, and the sound vibrated against my chest. “Peephole, jagiya.”

I kept waiting for him to ask why I had come, but his lips trailed lower and lower, and it seemed the why was less important to him than the simple fact that I had.

“I’ve missed you,” he groaned, pulling down the neckline of my top to trail his tongue down my breast.

“You’ve seen me every day this week,” I panted, tipping my head back against the door.

He hitched my legs around his waist, pressing me harder against the wood with his hips.

“Missed the feel of your skin. Missed the feel of you wrapped around me.”

“Joon!” I gasped, running my fingers through his hair and yanking gently to lift his face. His pupils were blown wide, lips moist. “Not against the door. The hallway–anyone could walk past.”