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Our schedules kept misaligning, until the end of the month. I was staying in a hotel in Gangnam, not far from ENT. Sihyeon had gone back to Japan for the production break, opting to do all her work remotely, so I had the room to myself, which Jihoon was delighted about, because the members usually shared the dorm while performing in Seoul, and while they had all apparently figured out we were together again, it was completely unthinkable to go back to his place for a hook up.

One night, as we lay in bed, wrapped tightly around each other, he pressed a kiss to my sweat-damp forehead.

“Jagiya,” he murmured, “I have to go to Paris in a couple of days.”

I hummed in acknowledgement. I was aware of his plans. He and Lee had been invited to Paris Fashion Week to attend the shows of the brands they were ambassadors for.

“I want you to come with me,” he said, tracing patterns across my stomach.

“To Paris Fashion Week?” I scoffed. “I don’t think that’s quite my scene, Joon.”

He huffed lightly. “Maybe not,” he conceded. “But I don’t care about that. Come back to Paris with me. Back to where we had our first date.”

“Our second first date,” I pointed out, smiling, trailing my fingers up his forearm.

“Our second first date,” he agreed. “Come with me.”

I tilted my head to look up at him. He met my eyes. His eyelashes cast soft shadows down his cheeks, and I felt myself weaken.

“You want me there?”

“Jagiya,” he chided softly, shaking his head. “I always want you.”

My toes curled, and I leaned up to press my lips to his.

Chapter 47

We flew to Paris before Fashion Week began. When Jihoon and I pulled up at the airfield, I was prepared to be charmed by the luxury of a private plane journey to Paris with my boyfriend. But when we boarded, any thoughts of romance fled.

“Annyeong, Kaiya,” Lee called cheerfully, as he looked up from his Nintendo Switch.

“Hi, Lee,” I said, sliding a look to Jihoon.

“The company decided to push his flight back so we could all go together. They want us to arrive in Paris at the same time,” he said quietly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to my cheek and taking my bag to slide it in the overhead compartment.

It’s not like I had planned on making out with Jihoon for the entire flight. His security team and managers were also on board, but it was still a little awkward, because there was the undeniability of the third-wheel dynamic, especially now I knew that his other members were aware of our relationship. Lee, for his part, spent much of the flight either asleep or playing on his Switch.

Jihoon held my hand in his lap, twining his fingers through mine so our rings clinked together. He hadn’t taken his off in weeks. The first time we’d been together, he would take it off for performances, or interviews, or occasions where its continual presence would draw attention. Now, he didn’t care.

“Let people think what they want,” he’d said when I’d asked him about it.

It had seemed risky to me at the time. Now I shared his sentiment.

Lee and Jihoon walked through the terminal together with their management team. It was known that they would be in Paris attending Fashion Week, so even though we were going through the private part of the airport, there were still paparazzi littered about. I followed further behind, well out of sight with one of the lesser-known managers. We waited until the main group had been driven away from the airport before we walked through to find our own hired car. It was all very inconspicuous, but we were still cautious.

Lee was staying at one of the city’s more famous luxury hotels, and he and Jihoon were photographed walking in together.

What the press didn’t see was Jihoon walking out half an hour later in a change of clothes, with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder as he got into a cab and was driven to the hotel where I was staying. Waiting for him.

I was stood in front of the open balcony doors when I heard the door to the suite beep, and then open. He looked up, eyes finding mine across the vast room, and he grinned.

“Honey, I’m home,” he called, and I laughed.

We had an almost unobstructed view of the Eiffel Tower from our balcony, and even below the grey October sky, it was breathtaking, and I didn’t know if it was the view, or the knowledge that we were on a secret, romantic getaway for a few days, but all it took was one look from Jihoon, and I was crooking my finger at him.

We made love with Paris spread out beyond the windows, the tower rising above it all, and we did not untangle ourselves until the next morning.

The next day, we mixed business with pleasure. I went with Jihoon to the atelier of the fashion house he represented, and who had a show the following day. I hung around in a private studio, reclining on a Baroque chaise lounge while Jihoon was fitted for the outfit they had designed for him that he was going to wear to the show. He wasn’t in the show, but had a front row seat, and I kind of got the impression there wasn’t an enormous difference when he was going to be sat next to some of the biggest names in the industry. This was very much not my wheelhouse. I knew nothing about fashion, but I did know the names of the magazine editors who would be in attendance.