luckily, you were born into a prominent, wealthy family that allowed you to have both of those things. your grandparents founded a shipbuilding company that’s grown to be one of the largest in the world, and to this day, the company is still in your family’s hands.

your father, as the ceo, sits at the helm of the company. your mother is a private equity investor, a terrifyingly good one. your brother, wonwoo, is about five years older than you and set to take over your dad’s position as soon as he retires.

being the second-born means ranking lower in the pecking order. not that you really mind — you work hard, you deliver good results, and you already know a stellar position in the company is waiting for you as soon as wonwoo becomes the man in charge.

your family is known to drive business more ruthlessly than others. a stark contrast to the family business that’s posed the biggest threat to yours for multiple generations now.

kim mingyu leads his family’s company in a way you never would. close personal relationships with their staff, dressed relatively casually for a ceo, radiating nothing but warmth and approachability.

your father believes it’s the main reason they’ll never make as much money as you, even if most people in the same business has always spoken rather highly of them.

where the competition between your two companies came from or what led up to it, you don’t know, but it was already there when your grandparents were still running things. something personal, clearly.

and, as it turns out, old habits really do die hard. it’s the main reason you’ve been hostile to each other for so long.

though, in all fairness, it’s not nearly as bad as it used to be. most of your current rivalry has been reduced to mere dirty glances, low blows, bad mouthing one another and trying to take each other’s clients. not professional, no, but a necessary evil sometimes.

one of the clients of theirs you tried to poach from them — a man of solid status, who both your families tried your hardest to impress — decided he simply couldn’t choose which of the two companies he wanted to get into business with. so to your worst nightmare, he put out the idea for a joint venture. since the profit and other benefits from the proposal were too good to turn down, both kim mingyu and your father agreed to it.

in hindsight, however, you kind of wish you hadn’t.

four months into your partnership, an accident occurred on one of the wharfs. a result of gross negligence that could be blamed on either of your families, and as it turns out, you might not be the only ones aware of it.

which brings you to your current situation — an emergency meeting between the only people allowed to hear of it.

“we have footage of a person taking evidence. for all we know, it could be an employee. it’s too delicate to see the light of day,” your father says.

wonwoo steals a look at you from under his thick-rimmed glasses before turning back to the paperwork in front of him.

mingyu sighs, one hand supporting his chin, that silver ring he always wears on his pinky glistening in the sunlight that’s shining through the windows. “yes, and we’re gathered here because you said you had an idea how to handle it.”

“we talked with our lawyers, who ended up advising the old-fashioned approach,” wonwoo begins, twirling the navy ballpen sitting between his thumb and index finger. “people love a new subject to talk about, right? simple gossip easily becomes the talk of the town. like a relationship, for example.”

mingyu’s sister, coo of their company, raises a brow. “between who?”

“someone from your family, with someone from ours.”

“i’d agree, except most of us are spoken for,” she adds, gesturing to the ring on her finger.

it’s a fair point. your parents are married, your brother engaged, mingyu’s sister is also married. which, technically, leaves him, and—

he appears genuinely confused for a moment — until his eyes meet yours.

for someone with such a presence, you know exactly how to draw attention to yourself at the right moment without saying a word. you shoot him a catlike smile, waiting for him to figure it out, full-on smirking once the realization visibly dawns on his face.

“are you implying what i think you’re implying?” mingyu asks, his mouth running dry.

“unless you’ve got some secret younger brother walking around somewhere, yes, it’s gonna be you and me.”

he’s baffled that you’re being so casual about it. “and you’re happy with this?”

a question you don’t hear quite often. still, you pay it little mind.

“well, it was my idea,” you cross your arms, immediately speaking up again once you catch those raised brows of his. “don’t flatter yourself. you’re the last man i’d willingly take to be my husband under normal circumstances.”

mingyu shakes his head. “this is deranged.”

“look, think of the damage it would do to both our reputations if the press got a hold of it,” wonwoo cuts in, folding his hands together. “it wouldn’t be permanent. how about a three-year contract? you can claim to be a private couple, you just gotta show your faces together every once in a while to keep up appearances. once three years have passed, file for divorce. it’d probably fly by.”

the idea isn’t unheard of, he’s aware of that. plenty of pr firms are very much in favor of fake relationships, even fake marriages. it’s one of the things he dislikes about that circle of society his job has forcibly put him in.

and now that he’s thinking about it, the press would have a fucking field trip with this relationship. he’s gotten media attention for his good looks before, and he knows you’re quite popular as well, having acquired a bit of a socialite status — in the eyes of any pr agency, you’d be a perfect match.

still, mingyu stares at you, his lips parted, brows knitted in something awfully close to horror, choosing to voice his thoughts; the elephant in the room.

“and how old are you, again?” he hears himself ask, the question almost rhetorical. he could’ve sworn you were, what, twenty-five? twenty-four?

“twenty-three,” you answer curtly, at which his eyes widen.

christ. as if this couldn’t possibly get any worse.

you’re just so… young. too young. an adult, obviously, but still. he’s got no business being married to some girl your age at forty-one. the press will undoubtedly agree. hell, they’ll make a full-blown scandal out of it.

he’s pulled out of his thoughts once more when he hears that low, silky voice of yours. “if it’s any consolation, i’ll be twenty-four by the time we get married.”

finding your eyes again, he feels struck by you.

god, look at you, for christ’s sake. you might as well be a porcelain doll — flawless makeup, dangly pearl earrings, bouncy princess-like curls, clothes tailored perfectly to your body.

sure, he thinks you’re a pretty girl. he’s not blind. but your beauty hides a design; it’s a shame the rest of the world can’t see you for who you really are. the same goes for the rest of your picture-perfect family.

“if i were to agree to something like this,” he hesitantly begins, “we’d have to make it believable. a public outing every two months wouldn’t cut it. we’d have to commit to it, live together, even do public displays of affection—”

again, he meets your gaze, this time to gauge your reaction. you’re as unimpressed as ever, shrugging your shoulders before taking a sip of your water. does he really think you didn’t come up with that already?

“we have an estate just on the city border. secluded, big enough to lead your own lives,” your father suggests. “people would be none the wiser.”

a mere glimpse of his sister’s expression is enough for him to know she doesn’t think it’s a bad idea, and with that in mind, he bites his lower lip, putting the company’s best interests above his own.

“i’ll consider it. send over the paperwork. you’ll have my answer by friday.”

it’s a good enough answer for now. you all shake hands, and when your father and brother exit the conference room, mingyu gestures for his sister to escort them to the entrance, making sure you stay behind.

you’re still seated several spots away from him, symbolizing how big the distance is between you. today marks, what, the second time you’ve talked to him? the third time? you’re practically strangers to one another. all you’ve ever done is watch each other from the sidelines.

emphasizing the extent of the possible future agreement again, he says, “you know that a couple of pictures for the press wouldn’t cut it. we’d have to make it look real.”

your voice sounds less cutting this time. “i’m a great actress, y’know.”

a scoff leaves his mouth. “i don’t doubt it.”

“so what’s on your mind?” you ask, fingers itching with the growing urge to crack him open. maybe it’s the fact that he’s not scared to speak his mind, not afraid of a little honesty — it’s a hard quality to find in the people around you these days.

“we’d be exclusive for three years. no under-the-radar affairs, they always get out.”

all you do is shrug.

he pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “and your dad’s completely fine with you living in the same house as a man nearly twice your age?”

his choice of words cause you to tilt your head. “well, he wasn’t the biggest fan of the idea. but it’s the company above everything else, at the end of the day. besides,” you push a little, “i’m sure you’ll behave like a perfect gentleman, won’t you?”

there’s a soundless chuckle rolling past his lips. he answers your rhetorical question with a simple nod of his head.

not like you expected a different answer from him anyway.

you get up from your seat, extending your hand to him. his dark eyes swiftly look you up and down fully now that he’s got you standing in front of him in all your glory.

he rises from his seat, drawing your attention to his striking height and broad shoulders. when he shakes your hand, both of you maintaining eye contact a little longer than necessary, he wonders what the hell that prominent feeling sitting deep in his gut is — or more importantly, why you’re making him feel it.

thanks for reading! x