## **Lee Yoon-seo**

Rule number one about fake marriages?

Don’t let your fake husband look like that in a tux.

As in—*perfect.* Like a magazine cover came to life and accidentally wandered into a charity gala.

“Stop staring,” Ji Hoon-min murmured without looking at me, buttoning his suit jacket.

“I’m not staring,” I shot back, adjusting my gown. “I’m... evaluating the situation.”

“Oh?” His lips curved slightly. “And what’s your evaluation?”

“That I should’ve charged more.”

---

The driver opened the car door. Noise flooded in — cameras flashing, reporters shouting, fans screaming.

“Ready?” he asked, offering his hand.

No. Absolutely not.

But I slipped my fingers into his anyway. “Ready.”

---

The second we stepped out — *boom.*

A wall of sound. Paparazzi calling our names. Microphones shoved forward. A million camera flashes turning the night into a lightning storm.

And then — Hoon-min tightened his grip on my hand. Just slightly. Just enough.

“We smile,” he murmured without moving his lips. “And look like we’re the happiest married couple in Seoul.”

“Easy for you to say,” I whispered back. “You were born looking expensive.”

---

We hit the red carpet.

The first wave — photographers.

“Over here! Smile, Mr. Ji! Mrs. Ji, this way!”

He shifted — a subtle tilt — guiding me effortlessly as though we’d rehearsed this a hundred times.

His hand slipped to my waist. Warm. Steady. Terribly convincing.

Smile, Yoon-seo. Smile like you mean it.

---

“Hold her closer! A little more affection!” someone yelled.

Before I could react — Hoon-min tugged me flush against him.

“Relax,” he said under his breath. “It’s just optics.”

Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one trying to remember how to breathe when his cologne was *literally in my bloodstream now.*

---

We paused at the media wall. Cameras snapped. The crowd roared.

And then — disaster.

A reporter shouted, “Can we get a kiss?”

I blinked. “A *what now—*”

“Just a kiss on the cheek!” another called. “For the cameras!”

My pulse spiked. My eyes darted to Hoon-min.

For a split second, something unreadable flickered across his face.

Then — slow. Controlled. Dangerous. He turned toward me.

---

His hand lifted — fingers brushing my hair back, lingering at the curve of my jaw.

I barely registered the fact that the world around us had gone silent. The crowd. The cameras. The chaos. All of it blurred.

All I could hear was the pounding in my chest.

Was he... actually going to—

---

His lips hovered. A breath away from my cheek.

A breath.

A heartbeat.

Too close. *Way too close.*

I felt my breath hitch — like the air between us wasn’t air at all, but something charged and heavy and stupidly magnetic.

---

“Ji Hoon-min-ssi!”

Saved — by the most perfectly timed voice in human history.

A staff member rushed over, bowing, “Sorry to interrupt — but the chairman’s waiting for you inside.”

Both of us jolted like someone had cut the tension with a knife.

Hoon-min cleared his throat. “Right. Of course.”

---

We walked — maybe a little faster than necessary — into the main hall.

The moment we were away from the cameras, I pulled my hand free. “*What. Was. That?*”

His expression? Completely unreadable. “A photoshoot necessity.”

“That was not just ‘for the cameras.’”

“Isn’t that what this is?” His voice was lower. Rougher. “A performance?”

“...Right.” I swallowed. “A performance.”

---

The night didn’t get easier.

Inside the ballroom — more pictures. More forced smiles. More polite nods.

Except... every time his hand brushed mine, my heart did this *stupid little skip.*

Every time his eyes found mine across the room — a flicker of something. Something dangerous.

---

At one point, I stepped aside for air. Alone. Except — not for long.

“Didn’t take you for the runaway type.”

I turned — and blinked.

Kang Min-jun.

CEO. Calm. Infuriatingly charming. And now\... smiling at me like I was the most interesting thing in the room.

“Oh, you have no idea,” I muttered.

---

He offered me a glass of champagne. “You looked like you needed rescue.”

“From?”

He tilted his head toward the crowd. “From the circus. Or from... Mr. Perfect CEO.”

I laughed — genuinely. “You noticed?”

“I notice a lot of things.” His gaze softened. “Including the fact that you looked... uncomfortable out there.”

Something warm flickered in my chest.

---

“Careful,” came a voice from behind.

Both of us turned. Hoon-min. Standing there, hands in his pockets, expression deceptively casual.

“Wouldn’t want rumors about a newlywed bride chatting too long with another man,” he said smoothly, but his eyes? Oh no — *absolutely not casual.*

Possessive. Sharp. Something territorial lurking there.

Min-jun smiled — slow and easy. “Of course. Wouldn’t want that.”

---

As the night wore on, I realized something dangerous.

This contract... this masquerade...

It wasn’t going to be easy. Not when pretending felt a little too real.