He dragged her all the way down the hall, through another intersecting corridor, around a corner, past another kitchen, and where else Namjoo couldn’t keep track. Until they burst out the back door into a well-lit area somewhere that was not the front yard.

No time to think. Namjoo wheeled around on him about to go off.

He very well stole the chance before she tried. “Who are you?”

Namjoo gasped flabbergasted that he would have the galls to ask her. She should be the one interrogating. Flinging a finger between her, him, her, and him again Namjoo bit her lower lip then dropped her hand giving up.

She walked a small circle like a puppy deciding which spot was the most comfortable to curl up on, trying to put together what just occurred. Spinning to him prepared this time. “You!” She shouted. “You were drunk! I drove you home.” Catching herself, she narrowed her eyes and tiptoed toward him. “Unless you were lying the entire time and you planned this!”

Poking her forehead with his forefinger, he pushed her back. “In fact, in a moment of shock I just woke up.”

Spitting a gasp, Namjoo put her hands on her hips. “Shock or shocker, the fact is that I’ve surpassed your state of shock. Go back in there and tell your parents I’m not pregnant!”

“You said you wanted two hundred.” His eyes closed in on her despite them being three steps apart.

“You heard that?” immediately spurted from her lips. Quickly catching her slip up, Namjoo re-bargained, “I want more.”

“Then,” he smirked devilishly, “get ready to stay.”

The confidence Namjoo faintly experienced flew out the window. “What?”

Passing her, he opened the back door. “Welcome home…right, I didn’t get your name.”

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His mother scurried out of the kitchen toward him when he returned. His usual father stoic and grim was seated on the three-seater, legs crossed, all business-like. A housekeeper had been roused awake to clean the spill on the floor.

“Sehun,” his mother rushed to him. A quick peek at Namjoo and her voice softened, “We’ve put your belongings on the table.” She gestured to the hot pink purse on the coffee table, all condiments stuffed inside.

“Oh…uh…thanks.” Namjoo murmured.

Putting his arm around Namjoo he pushed her forward to his side. “This is Kim Namjoo. We were,” he glanced at her, signaling with the width of his eyes for her to go with the flow, “just celebrating at her village before returning.”

“Returning?” His mother repeated confused.

“I mean as in bringing her home.” Sehun clarified. “I’m taking responsibility.”

His father harrumphed interrupting him. Getting up with a grunt he grumbled, “We’ll talk tomorrow.” Huffing unhappily, he disappeared around the corner.

His mother hesitated after his father, paused, and turned to them. “Get some rest. It’s late now.”

She gave Namjoo a last glance, as if she wanted to talk more then silently went after his father. Sehun stared after them certainly aware he’d thwarted everything to come.

Letting go of Namjoo he veered around to walk off. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” she hurried after him.

“My house.”

“Aren’t we in your house?”

“Not here.”

A stone path of various size rocks created a path that led to his building, a two-story home. The path was just a path for décor nevertheless, Namjoo hopped from one stone to the next while he strode along the grass. In the distance several other buildings appeared like shadows on his father’s expansive land. Relatives and friends of sorts stayed in them during the warm weathers when they came up to the city to play.

This stucco house had been set in stone as a gift when he graduated high school. With the honors and highest grade, goals his father fiercely expected from an only son born for one reason: to become the heir of the old man’s empire.

Along with the independent house, freedom was his own to reign.

“You’ll be staying here.” Pulling the front door open he waited for her.

“Whoa!” She shamelessly exclaimed the first step in, arching her neck ninety-degrees to take the entire place in with awe. The high white ceilings. The electric fireplace built internally into the side gray wall. His place instantly opened up into a wide lounge room housing matching furniture spread among the room, a large table in the center with plenty of space to use. On the wall a 64” tv hung at a ninety-degree angle for easy viewing.

On the other side of the wall partition where the tv hung, the half-kitchen half-dining room occupied the entire first floor. White linoleum floors kept an illusion of brightness. A corridor intersecting the kitchen led to a single bath. That was a lot of space for him alone to take up, which he didn’t. He spent most of his time outdoors or upstairs where the bedrooms and two full baths were all located.

“So you’re saying, I’ll be staying here?” Namjoo walked further inside not bothering to take her shoes off.

Walking past a side table she scooped up a gold emblazoned mail organizer he’d ordered off a Louis Vuitton catalogue. Twisting and turning it for observation before placing it on its side on the table. Grimacing at her from behind Sehun up righted it.

“Then we should set some ground rules.”

“Of course, we should.” He tried not to grind his teeth when she picked up a sports magazine from the center table and carelessly tossed it down. As she stepped away, he firmly planted his hand on the magazine with vehemence and straightened it into its original position.

Discovering the remote for the tv she fumbled with it. “We sleep separately.”

Snatching the remote out of her hand he returned it to the shelf below the tv that consisted of his few DVDs diagonally organized.

Half-twisting around to look up at him, he didn’t wait continuing, “Indeed we should.”

Narrowing her eye, she slid to the side escaping his scrutinizing glare. Crossing her arms, she went on, “I should get something out of this.”

“We’ll talk about that later.” Sehun dismissed her. “You’re Kim Namjoo. You’re from Taean. Your elderly parents farm corn.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to farm tulips since they hold a festival yearly?” Namjoo cut in. Shrugging she explained, “I saw a magazine about the tulip festival, the sand beaches, the wide sea.”

“Fine.” He spat. He didn’t want to hear anymore. “They farm flowers.” He added irately because she had to pinpoint the fact with gusto, “Of all sorts.” Sehun could feel his eyes b sternly. “We met when I was passing by and stopped to eat during a business trip. You’re five months pregnant.”

“I can’t be five months!” Namjoo argued, voice raised. Making a gesture of a round belly, Namjoo lectured, “Five months and I would be showing. You know nothing.”

“Fine then,” he hissed. “You decide.”

“Make it two.” Holding up two fingers Namjoo cocked her chin forward. “First time pregnancies don’t show until later. This is for your benefit,” she enunciated the word as if to remind whose exact fault this was. “And wouldn’t a one-night stand sound better?”

“You!” Nearly choking he almost leapt forward at the absurdity.

Cockily smiling she bobbed her head back and forth, enjoying the most of the situation. “Now about my pay.”

“We did not – ” he insisted.

“My pay.” She interrupted.

“Fine,” he repeated irritably like a parrot. “Let me think about it.” He turned ready to walk away then swerved back around. He had to make it clear. “We did not have a one-night stand. I’m not that impulsive.”

She smugly grinned as if aware she had struck a nerve and was happy.

Flexing his hands tightly into a ball he stomped up the staircase. He’d had enough of her.

“Where do I sleep?” she called out.

“On the couch!” he yelled disappearing up the stairs.

The king size bedroom took up the major half of the second floor. It included a giant walk-in closet with countless shelves where his casual wears were neatly folded and tucked away, a hanging area for his work clothes and pants, a center piece glass table with four drawers for his ties, various collection of watches, favorite cologne, and designer socks. Sehun also had his own private bathroom with a beautiful gray and white marbling wall finishing. He could soak in the white tub or the classic stand-in shower with a glass door.

Snagging a towel and clean pajamas that was where he retreated to for a long hot shower, stewing in the heat and steam to wash off the night’s events. Waking his clogged mind from an entire night of drowning in liquor, mulling over current personal issues which could not progressively get any worse than tonight. Stepping out cleaned he hopped into bed pulling the covers up to his chin. Then he spent a few minutes tossing and turning restlessly.

His mind reeked of unpleasant guilt. Groaning pent up frustration, he abruptly rose and left his bedroom. He would tell Namjoo to stick herself in one of the guest rooms.

The first-floor lights were off when he crept down. Surprised he stepped forward to search. Empty. The lounge room was as good as abandoned. Nobody on the couch.

For a quiet minute he stood alone in the darkness. Back upstairs he wandered through the hallway. There were two extra rooms. Both unused. Never touched. Only the housekeeper he had on hand ever went in to dust, vacuum, clean, change the sheets.

Opening the first door he poked his head inside. The bed was untouched. Apparently not even a ghost had stopped by. Closing it he went to the next room. The door was unlocked, should be locked if someone was inside. That made sense. So he wondered if Namjoo had just upped and left.

Damn her. Even after they’d made a done deal. Sehun pushed the door open anyway and through the dimness of the moonlight streaking in from the sheer curtain, he saw Namjoo knocked out on the bed. So tired that she hadn’t managed to crawl under the blanket.

Well good. She had some decency to keep her word. He’d deal with her tomorrow.

Shutting the door, he went back to bed.

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, Namjoo flipped onto her back, sprawling her arms out. She smacked her lips dreamily sighing. She’d never taken up an entire bed before. This was nice. This was heaven. The utmost fantasy come alive.

Giggling she shifted to her side curling up. The sun was too bright. Right now, she’d been sleeping in her cramped bedroom. Her blackout curtain guaranteed a good eight or so hour sleep, enough to recharge her for work at night. Pushed against the wall a twin bed, a plastic dresser with a tower of clothes she dug through daily like it was a landfill for a new outfit. Spray on a five-dollar body spray she’d bought at the corner’s 7-Eleven and she was good to go for any occasion anywhere, anytime.

Curse the morning daylight. Getting up Namjoo exited the room going in search of the bathroom. She needed to pee. She wanted to brush her teeth. Plague had set in overnight. especially tasted like .

Across the bedroom she discovered a full bath. The creamy yellow walls almost created a mirage of a gold palace. Namjoo’s jaw dropped when she stepped inside. The sink the color of the palest white of whites was so shiny it could have been waxed. Namjoo ran her hands over the pale beige counter awed.

A good amount of space separated the toilet from the sink. There was a tub with a shower faucet overhead. If the bathroom at the club was a dark paradise this bathroom was absolute heaven.

Namjoo ended up scrubbing her teeth with her finger. Gurgling water five times and only tasted a tad bit better. Damn greedy Sehun for not stocking his bathroom of the barest necessity a human required for a full morning cleaning routine.

Leaving the bathroom, she wandered down the hallway. Curious where it was Sehun slept. The house was so quiet she felt as if she’d somehow stumbled into some parallel dimension. She found the other guest room, an identical bathroom, and then approached the farthest room at the end of the hall.

The door was shut and unlocked. Twisting the knob, she poked her head inside. Crooning when she came upon an empty bedroom, the walls a pale green, and it was gigantic! Three oak dressers – two of which sat against the wall like a couple, the other on the far left side of the poster bed. For a stiff man like Sehun the poster bed came off too royal for his image.

A spoiled brat!

A cough from behind made her swerve around surprised. At the foot of the hallway an older woman, hands clasped together in front of her shabby dress, stared at her.

“Oh!” First left Namjoo’s mouth.

“The senior and mistress would like to invite you for breakfast.”

On the walk to the main manor, where she’d first been the previous night, Namjoo tried to soak in the formality used for this senior and mistress. The housekeeper went as far as to open the back door for her and then scurried ahead of her inside. Down the hall, a winding corridor, around the corner, and Namjoo was led straight into a kitchen she hadn’t seen last night.

A maple table long enough to seat twelve stretched through the center of the room. At the head Elder Oh and Madam Oh were already seated next to each other. The aroma of food ignited Namjoo’s hunger instantly. Assuming breakfast was in the works Namjoo went ahead and grabbed a chair across from Sehun’s father eagerly.

The elder man coughed within his throat just as her began touching the cushion.

Elbowing him, Madam Oh ushered a welcoming smile onto her peony colored lips. “It’s all right. Sit down.”

Namjoo swiftly glanced at the senior warily before lowering herself onto the chair. Eat the food processed through her mind as her hand lifted to begin filling her empty plate. A flick of Elder Oh’s eyes and Namjoo immediately withdrew her motion. Sensing the coiled tension in the air, Namjoo fidgeted in her seat.

So silent. She didn’t know what to say, where to start. Magnetically drawn back to the elder couple, Namjoo met their eyes without meaning to. Overwhelmed with awkwardness, Namjoo nervously giggled some kind of goat dying sound.

“Sorry I’m late,” Sehun’s voice erupted from behind her. She turned in time to see him sliding into the chair beside her. Looking at her he scolded without sound the bit of it, “You’re sitting already.”

She frowned at him. Sehun’s mother jumped in in time, “Sehun-ah, I see she’s still wearing the same clothes from last night. Did she not pack her belongings?”

Namjoo’s attention dove down to Sehun’s hand busily scooping soup and whatever else he wanted onto his plate. Narrowing her eyes at the utter fact that he first got to eat before she did. What was this unfairness?

“We were in a rush and did not manage to.” Sehun explained. “I’ll take her shopping later.”

“That’s a relief. She should have something clean to wear.” His mother breathed. Now looking at her, she urged, “Eat a lot. You must be hungry.”

Hell, she was. Namjoo didn’t wait a beat before scooping heaps onto her plate that even Sehun flashed her a warning glare. Dropping the ladle into the sprout soup, Namjoo bit back.

A fake laugh emerged from her, “The food is so delicious, I just want to devour everything.”

Sehun choked on his spoonful and turned to shoot her a contradicting eyeful. She predicted he was prepared to lecture her head off after this.

“Have all you want,” his mother offered.

“Yes, yes I will.” Namjoo smugly grinned. Turning to Sehun she bobbed her eyebrows in victory.

“It’s so nice to see someone so lively in our home.” His mother commented. “You can beat out the gruffness in my son.”

His quiet father snorted.

“Oh yes,” Namjoo exclaimed energized. Running her hand up and down her face, she declared, “His face is so razor sharp and his eyes are so dark they hardly reflect his feelings. It’s like you’re looking evil in the face. It’s just surreal. It must be a talent of his.”

She yelped in agony when Sehun stamped the heel of his foot over hers. Namjoo ended up swallowing food down the wrong tube. Pounding her chest to release the tension she coughed and a chunk of carrot flew out of , landing right onto Elder Oh’s plate.

Some kind of déjà vu was happening.

Madam Oh’s eyes widened.

Sehun’s jaw gaped open.

Namjoo jerked back, covering with her hands deeply gasping.

***lolol she's just doing great