[CONTENTID1]CHAPTER 02[/CONTENTID1] [CONTENTID2]Second Glances[/CONTENTID2]

[CONTENTID3]

A/N: This story is now being written in 1st POV and Chapter 1 has been updated accordingly! The information given in the chapter remains the same, but the writing is moderately different, so do feel free to check that out again if you have time. It's going to be even better this way! :)

Sometimes, I feel like this CEO job is a punishment from my father.

“That’s fine. We’ll discuss the Jeju expansion project further on Monday. Mr. Lee, please make sure you go through the proposal and have your secretary email me the finalized version before our meeting,” I say, flipping through the report one more time before handing it to my secretary. This is still crap, and that man sitting across me is to blame. Of course my father’s uncle’s son did not come prepared.

“Certainly, Ms. Seo. Consider it done.”

Every single person in this room knows he’s just buttering up to me, but I act like I don’t. “That’s it for today then,” I say with a smile. I get up and immediately, the rest of the conference room follows suit. “Good work, all. Have a good weekend.”

The rest of the executive team falls into a perfect 90-degree bow as I exit the conference room, my new secretary Oh Sehun trailing behind me. At first, it feels a little awkward walking out like that when I’m the youngest person in the room, but after nearly a year in this position, I’ve started to own it. At this point, they all know that the spoiled, rich girl can actually think.

“That’s it on my schedule today, right?” I check with Sehun as I walk back to my office. This is going to sound incredibly conceited, but I just love the sound of my heels clicking against the cool marble floor as I do. It’s like a metronome of power and I want this whole building to hear it.

“Correct, Ms. Seo,” Sehun replies, hurriedly scrolling down on his iPad to double-check. “Your reservation at the Luxe Beauty Boutique is at 6.15, from which you will head directly to the Kim Youngmin’s fundraiser gala at Hotel Signiel which is supposed to start at 7.30.”

“What time is it now?”

“6.03 PM, Ms. Seo.”

“30 minutes over as always,” I mutter under my breath, flinging the doors to my office wide open without stopping. “Send out the follow-up meeting invites ASAP before you head out, Mr. Oh, I don’t want people’s calendars filling up again. Also, please tell Jongin to get my car and call him here—”

“He’s already here,” Sehun interrupts, a habit of his that’s starting to really irk me. I know it’s not a big deal but I just—whatever. I don’t have time to be irritated.

“Ms. Seo,” Jongin greets from the doorway, and subconsciously, a part of me relaxes. He’s already ready. Jongin is the one thing I can always trust to function properly.

I nod at Sehun as I walk out of my office. “Jongin, I know the timing’s tight, but can we stop for some food first? I haven’t had anything since this morning.”

“I’ve already arranged to have your usual order from Ken’s Sushi to be delivered to Luxe, Ms. Seo,” he replies, pressing the elevator button for us. “The staff said you can have it while they do your hair.”

I turn to him, eyes wide. “How did you…?”

“We’ve done this arrangement before, Ma’am. Several months ago, before the Democratic Party event. You said that this would be your preference for all future after-work events,” Jongin explains smoothly as if he'd expected me to ask.

Did I? I can’t remember. I agree vaguely, trying not to seem so baffled by how attuned he is to not only my whereabouts and surroundings but also my needs and preferences. It’s like having a secretary on steroids. “Right, right. Thank you, Jongin.”

“Just doing my job, Ma’am,” he answers, shoving his hands into his pockets after pressing the G button. At that, I can’t help but exhale sharply through my nose, because there it is.

That stupid, cursed word.

Ma’am.

I hate it when he calls me that. It makes me feel like I’m forty.

It’s the one thing Jongin can never seem to remember. I’ve repeatedly told him that he doesn’t need to call me that, but he insists that he does. It’s only proper.

“Well, you certainly are good at it,” I mumble instead, fiddling with my phone. The elevator cannot reach the ground floor fast enough. See, this is the only problem in being with Jongin. He never talks, so we have no rapport or chemistry whatsoever. Being in a small, enclosed box with him alone is still as awkward as it was on day one.

In the lobby, my beautiful little Mercedes and decently beautiful personal chauffeur Taemin are already waiting. Car rides with Taemin are a little less torturous because Taemin will usually say a polite line or two, and most times I’ll reply well enough to spur a short conversation. But eventually, he’ll redirect the polite remarks to Jongin because no weirdo actually enjoys talking to their boss, and that’s when the car will eventually lapse into total. Graveyard. Silence.

Meanwhile, when it’s just Jongin and me in the car, the only thing he’ll say is ‘we’re here’ once we arrive at wherever it is we’re going. Like, I know that much, bro.

We arrive at Luxe Beauty Boutique 5 minutes late to my appointment, and since I’m a regular here because my best friend Tiffany from SNU owns it, the staff immediately chucks me through my regular routine.

“Is Tiffany dropping by at all today—do you know?” I ask one of the hairdressers as she shampoos my hair. The girl’s face turns a little nervous at my inquiry about the final boss of her workplace.

“I—I think she will be a little later, Ms. Seo.”

Time ticks by faster at Luxe. It only feels like half an hour as these girls style my hair, do my makeup, paint my nails, and basically transform me to bombshell perfection, but when I open my eyes, it’s been an hour fifteen. I’m almost late to the gala, but the good news is I look camera ready. I allow myself to indulge in a smug smile as I look in the mirror, head tilted.

I clean up well, and every once in a while, I do enjoy admitting it.

“Excuse me miss, with all due respect—will you sleep with me tonight?”

I immediately turn around to face the familiar, breathy voice entering the room. Tiffany sashays in with her hands clasped in front of her chest, her own hair also blown out to movie star perfection. “Girl, you’re so gonna be the hottest woman at the party tonight!”

“Only because I’ve got the hottest best friend saving my every time,” I wink, getting up to greet her. “Every day I thank God we didn’t let you give up on your Instagram makeup account.”

“I know, look where it got me, right?” Tiffany giggles with a little twirl. “And daddy’s money of course, I know, I know. Anyway. Thanks for letting Luxe do the honors every time.”

“Tiff, I’d be an idiot if I didn’t.”

“And thanks for always bringing your hot bodyguard,” Tiffany adds in a loud whisper, leaning in conspiratorially. “Seriously, do you still not know which agency he’s from? Can’t you ask your dad?”

“Don’t you already have a bodyguard?”

“He’s not as cute as yours!” Tiffany whines, pouting in a way that is just so her. “Does he have a brother?”

I shrug. “You know I wouldn’t know the answer to that either.”

Tiffany her hips. “So for the past year, you’ve had a literal Abercrombie & Fitch model follow you around all day, and you just like—pretend he doesn’t exist? You still don’t talk to him? Like ever?”

Now why would she say something so hurtful but true?

“Are you dumb or gay?”

“He doesn’t talk to me either!” I puff out my chest indignantly. I admit I am both traditional and entitled for some matters—I want him to make the first move!

“That’s because you’re his employer. You’ve got to be the one to start the conversation, Seul!”

“You don’t think I’ve tried? He never answers beyond five syllables!” I sit still for a second so a girl can come and put the diamond earrings I’ve brought from home on me. “He either has a speech impairment or is a robot. I don’t know. Also, I don’t like how we’re talking about him like I have actual feminine feelings for him. Where’s my dress?”

“You need to do something to make him break character,” Tiffany muses, ignoring the last part of what you said completely. “Like, get him drunk and then work up a conversation when it’s just you and him in the car or something—”

“He won’t be drunk and then be alone with me in a car because he’ll be driving. Also, he’ll never drink on the job, I can already tell you that much. He won’t even stop calling me ma’am!”

“Still! He still does that?!”

“Like I’m 40,” I complain, checking my reflection again. “Be honest, do I look 40?”

“Baby, please don’t insult Luxe like that. You look 24.” Tiffany checks her rose gold Cartier watch. “, and also like you’re about to be 40 minutes late. Where’s her dress, ladies?” she yaps, looking around the room.

“Ms—Ms. Seo, I’m so, so sorry, but Saint Laurent did not manage to have the dress you previously requested ready in time,” one of the stylists squeaks, stepping forward with a pale face. “They were having l-logistical issues and the one you wanted was altered in a showroom in Paris, so they were not able to get it to us in time. Instead, they sent three other options over, which—”

“Hold on, hold on—so you mean I have to fit for a dress all over again?” my jaw drops. No! “, I don’t have time for that! The gala starts at 7.30—”

“Where are the dresses now?” Tiffany interjects, looking around. “Seul, I hate to break it to you, but it’s not like you have an option either.”

A last-minute fashion show was not on my bingo card for today. Inside the bridal style VIP fitting room, I let Tiffany take complete control. I try one gown after the after, frantically spinning in various directions to make sure that we find The One that looks good from every possible angle.

“It’s definitely the red one,” Tiffany finally decides, taking a couple steps back. “The red one is made to go on you, girl. It’s better than the blue one you originally chose!”

“Seriously? It’s not too… flashy?” I question, turning to my left to make sure this rose red, satin wrap dress doesn’t make me look like I have a baby bump. “Isn’t the neckline a little too deep? And this thigh slit… I’m just not completely sure about it.”

“It’s not, trust me. And who cares if it’s a little ty? These are your best years, don’t spend it hiding them!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t if I were going to a club, but this gala is going to be filled with men literally twice my age!” I bend my knee and pose on one leg like a flamingo to see how much thigh the slit reveals. “And seriously, this dress is so red. I’m not there to be the main event—”

“Well tonight, you should be! Hey… you, Yeri! What do you think?” Tiffany says, suddenly roping in one of her stylists.

The poor girl named Yeri jumps visibly when Tiffany suddenly singles her out. “I agree with you, Ms. Young. I think the red one compliments Ms. Seo’s skin tone and collar bones best.”

Okay, okay, here’s the thing.

I do look hot in this thing.

I genuinely think the red goes well with my fair skin, and the plunging neckline is doing all sorts of flattery to my collar bones. This dress is of perfect length as well, not to mention how divine it looks with these Swarovski earrings.

But again, tonight’s fundraiser is a political event, not—

“Aha! You see! You agree! I see it on your face. Alright, chop chop then Cinderella, you don’t have all night!”

“I just still don’t know if I want to show up looking this… loud at an event like tonight’s!” I say, beginning to feel a little frustrated because goddamn does this dress make me feel y. “I feel like I should go for a more subdued color as usual—”

“Excuse me Ms. Seo, I’m so sorry to interrupt,” one of the hairdressers suddenly pokes her head into the bridal-style fitting room, apologizing, “but your bodyguard says you really need to go. Your father just called and he said he wants you there in 10 minutes—”

“I know!” I yell, both at the hairdresser and my humanoid bodyguard in case he’s standing outside. “Jongin, tell my father I have a dress problem—”

“Ah actually!” Tiffany suddenly exclaims, snapping her fingers. I narrow my eyes. This is what she always does when she’s about to cause trouble. “Jongin! Mr. Bodyguard! Come in here right now, please!”

I immediately whack my idiot friend’s arm. “What the hell are you doing?!” I hiss.

But of course, like any other good friend, she ignores me. “Jongin! Come!”

“Jongin, stay!” I yell just as loudly. “Yah, what are you trying to do?!”

“What are you trying to do? Train a dog?” Tiffany looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head. “Jongin, please come in here and help me convince the incredibly stubborn Ms. Seo that she does not need to change into another dress for the thirtieth time tonight!”

A neon sign in my head goes ‘strangle NOW’ so I immediately go for it. “Shut up—”

But then suddenly, the door swings open and in walks Jongin—6 feet of handsome and all, immaculately dressed in his own crisp black suit. And I swear to God you can feel the collective level of estrogen in the room instantly rising.

“Ms. Seo, I’m only here because we really need to go,” he says, stopping right by the door. “Right now, please. You’re going to be late, and you know your father hates that.”

His presence makes me drop my arms and turn to face him, straightening up to regain my usual poise. Be cool, Iseul, act like the 26-year-old that you are!

But then the funniest thing happens.

Jongin’s face, usually completely stoic and devoid of human emotion, shifts. His eyes widen for a split second and in that same millisecond, his lips part and drift open just the slightest.

Oh God.

Did he just—

Okay, the reaction was minuscule and lightning-brief, but I know what I saw. I know what just happened.

I think he likes the way this dress looks on me.

“Jongin,” Tiffany calls sweetly, using her get-free-drinks-from-men voice, “can you please help me convince your boss that this dress looks killer on her and that she’s absolutely ready to go? I’ve been trying to get it through her head for the past 5 minutes, but perhaps she needs the opinion of a man she trusts.”

In normal circumstances, I would’ve thrown yet another sarcastic remark at her or simply tell her to shut up. But something about that look—something about that look that barely even appeared—it burns bright in my brain and has jammed my central processor.

I didn’t hallucinate that, did I?

And I’m not getting ahead of myself here, am I?

That was a positive reaction to the way I look, right?

Jongin clears his throat and blinks, as if trying to convince himself that what just slipped out never actually happened. And in those few seconds where I stand in silence, looking at him but acting like I’m not waiting for his approval, I’ve never felt more self-conscious.

“It does seem like you’re done getting ready, Ms. Seo,” Jongin finally says, his voice steady and face emotionless once more.

“How does this dress look on your boss, Jongin?” Tiffany challenges, crossing her arms. “She wants to change again since it’s not the original dress she chose.”

Jongin’s eyes barely flicker away from my face, but I just know that he is checking out how I look. At least for a fraction of a second. We can feel it when men do it, can’t we ladies? Of course, there’s no way to tell if he actually did, I can’t help but feel like there is something different in his eyes…

“I apologize, but it’s not my place to comment on Ms. Seo’s appearance, Ms. Young. I’m just here to tell Ms. Seo that we really need to leave. If Luxe thinks she’s ready, then I can only suggest that Ms. Seo trusts them so we can leave.”

…Well . Looks like I’m just going to have to kill Tiffany because of course asking Jongin would disappoi—

Actually, no! Not , but you, Jongin! I look good in this dress, and I don’t need him to confirm it. In fact, I’m relieved he didn’t! Because imagine if he actually complimented me? Things w