Chapter 5
MINJI
I’d find myself drifting between two beds.
The Aaron from college and the Aaron shadowing me.
In both beds I’ve been thoroughly fucked.
Sometimes at the exact same time. Sometimes on opposite ends of a bed while I split myself down the middle, two perfect halves: the practical Minji who only believes in prenups and statistical probability, and the one who, if she believed in magic, would say she’d been cursed by a pair of dimpled cheeks and a voice designed to subvert self-control.
There’s no way I can look Aaron in the eye again. If he so much as glances at me, I know my face will betray me and it’s over—he’ll see everything.
“This is seriously ridiculous.” I drag myself out of bed, heading towards the bathroom.
I splash icy water on my face, but it does nothing to drown out Aaron’s voice still reverberating in my head.
Inhale. Exhale. Somehow, I complete my morning ritual without his name crossing my mind again—progress, at least. My fingers quiver slightly as I fasten each button of my cream silk blouse, then smooth down my charcoal pencil skirt.
The woman in the mirror looks composed, controlled.
Attorney Lee reporting for duty. Whatever happened last night was an anomaly. A temporary lapse in judgment.
Right.
My heels click against empty hallways when I reach the office.
Nobody else arrives this early, but my apartment walls had started closing in, with that damn audiobook pulsing from my phone like a homing beacon.
Not that escaping helped. Chapter fourteen still calls to me, even here.
At least at my desk, surrounded by case files and legal briefs, I can keep my hands occupied with work instead of…
other activities. I settle into my chair behind the desk and click on the Audible app to finish it.
I slip my AirPods in and press play, Aaron’s voice filling my ears once again.
I’m being masochistic, I know. But I need to prove to myself that I can listen to this without losing composure.
It’s just an audiobook, just a voice. Just words.
Except it’s not.
Chapter fourteen is worse than I remembered.
Baron—Aaron’s character—is describing in excruciating detail exactly what he plans to do to Janessa once he gets her alone.
The imagery is vivid, the language both poetic and filthy in a way that makes my thighs clench involuntarily.
I press my knees together under my desk, willing my body to behave.
“You’re stronger than this,” I whisper to myself, gripping my pen so tightly it might snap. “It’s fiction. Fiction.”
“Janessa spread your legs for me…wider.” Aaron’s voice commands in my ears making me gasp. “A little bit more.”
“Like this?” Janessa asks and I picture her—no, me—spreading my legs for him.
“Perfect,” Aaron’s voice purrs through my AirPods. “Now I’m going to taste you until you’re begging me to stop.”
My entire body flushes hot. I squeeze my eyes tighter as vivid images of Aaron eating my pussy have me gripping the edge of my desk. God. I need to stop this, but I can’t. I’m lost in his words and the way he is breathing through these AirPods.
A soft click makes my eyes fly open.
And there he is—Aaron Singleton, leaning against my closed office door, arms crossed, dimples on full display. His hazel eyes lock with mine, widening slightly at whatever expression must be on my face.
I yank the AirPods from my ears in horror. The Bluetooth disconnects, and suddenly Aaron’s voice fills the room.
“—look at this pussy crying out for me,” booms from my phone speaker at full volume.
For one excruciating moment, we stare at each other in perfect silence. My face burns so hot I’m certain I must be glowing like a traffic light.
“Good morning,” Aaron says finally, his voice perfectly matching the one that just narrated the most explicit scene I’ve ever heard. “Interesting choice of work material.”
I lunge for my phone, nearly knocking over my coffee in the process. My fingers fumble with the screen until I finally manage to pause the audio.
“What—” My voice cracks. I swallow hard. “I thought you weren’t coming back for two days.”
He leans against the closed door, those infuriating dimples appearing as his lips curve upward. “Enjoying my audiobook, Counselor? The infamous Minji Lee, destroyer of fairy-tale endings, caught in the act with chapter fourteen.” His hand presses dramatically to his chest. “I’m flattered.”
“It’s professional curiosity. Nothing more.”
He peels himself from the door and advances into my office. With each step, the walls seem to inch closer together. “Is that so? Because from where I stood, you looked rather… captivated. Almost like you were losing yourself in it.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “Thorough analysis requires immersion. Any decent attorney knows that’s how you dissect the material properly,” I counter, my courtroom reflexes kicking in.
He circles my desk, that smile never faltering. “There’s a difference between analysis and absorption. Which were you experiencing?”
I lift my chin, meeting his eyes directly. “Mr. Singleton, I should clarify something. I don’t lose myself. Not when I’m arguing cases, and certainly not when I’m listening to fictional romance, regardless of how well-crafted it might be.”
“Well-crafted,” he repeats, dimples deepening. “We’re making progress. Tell me what you think of the story so far.”
“That privacy is a concept clearly lost on you,” I snap, trying to regain my composure. “Do you always enter without knocking?”
“The door was ajar,” he gestures behind him. “And I did knock. Twice, actually. You seemed preoccupied.”
God, kill me now. I take a deep breath, desperately trying to will away the heat still pulsing between my legs. The lingering effects of his voice—both recorded and real—are making it nearly impossible to think straight.
“What are you doing here anyway?” I ask, quickly changing the subject.
“I came here to get my notebook but then I saw your door, so I thought about saying good morning.” He snatches my phone off my desk. “Want to know how this chapter ends?”
“No, thank you,” I snap, standing abruptly.
“Come now, my little Athena,” Aaron teases, waving my phone like a matador flaunting a red cape. “Let me show you how it finishes.” He pockets my phone, picks me up, and places me on my desk.
“Aaron, once again, this isn’t appropriate,” I manage to say, though my voice lacks its usual commanding tone. He leans forward, his face inches from mine, his eyes twinkling with a challenge.
“We’ve already crossed the bridge of what’s appropriate or not.” His minty breath fans across my face, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. I know he is referring to the bra incident.
I push at his chest, getting off the desk. “I don’t have anything here of yours.”
“I never said it was in here.”
“Then why are you here, Mr. Singleton?”
“As I said earlier, I was just stopping by to say good morning.” His voice drops to that same rumbling tone that had me squirming in my seat not five minutes ago. “I’m assuming you like the book so far.”
I shake my head. “I find it professionally interesting, that’s all. Now, I have briefs to review.”
“Interesting choice of words.” His voice drops lower. “I’ve never known you to hide from the truth.”
My spine stiffens. “And I’ve never known you at all, Mr. Singleton.”
“Are you sure we—”
A sharp rap at the door cuts him off. “Minji? You in there?”
Jasmyn’s voice feels like a life preserver thrown to a drowning woman.
“Yes, come in!” The words tumble out too eagerly as Aaron retreats to a respectable distance.
The door swings open. Jasmyn freezes mid-step, her eyes bouncing between us like a tennis match. “Oh! Sorry to interrupt.” Her perfectly arched eyebrow rises. “Should I come back later?”
“No need,” I interject too quickly. “Mr. Singleton was just leaving.”
Aaron retreats toward the door, his gaze locked on mine with each backward step. “I look forward to resuming our literary analysis, Counselor.” His emphasis on ‘literary analysis’ sends a flutter through my core. “Perhaps over dinner this evening?”
“My calendar’s full.”
“Is that the truth? Or are you simply avoiding the conclusion of chapter—”
“The door’s that way, Mr. Singleton.” My cheeks burn traitorously.
A low laugh escapes him as he finally breaks our staring contest. “Until next time. Good morning, Ms. Park.”
Jasmyn exchanges pleasantries with him before he disappears behind the closing door.
She fans herself with her folder, eyes wide. “So that’s him? The guy behind all those books that make middle-aged book clubs blush?”
“The very same,” I mutter, reaching for my phone. Damn it. My phone’s hostage in his designer jeans.
“The photos don’t do him justice.” She drops a manila folder on my desk with a soft thwack. “I actually came to complain about that ridiculous calendar shoot, but clearly you’ve got better drama brewing.”
I massage my temples. “God, is that this week already?” Every December, Parras Law releases its staff calendar—Caleb’s brainchild from five years ago that refuses to die.
Twelve employees, twelve months. Everyone else displays theirs proudly; mine make an annual pilgrimage to my mother’s house in Seoul, where she hangs them in the kitchen to show off to her mahjong group.
“I forgot to give you back your phone.” Aaron opens my door, stepping back inside, holding my phone between his fingers like it’s a prize.
“Thank you.” I extend my hand.
“Always my pleasure.” He places the phone in my palm, his fingers lingering against mine for a second longer than necessary.
Jasmyn clears her throat, reminding us both of her presence. The amusement in her eyes is obvious as she backs toward the door. “I’ll leave you two to—”
“He was just leaving as well. I will see you the day after tomorrow,” I remind him.
He nods, gesturing to Jasmyn to leave first, and he follows behind her, leaving me alone in my office.
My phone chimes, and I think it’s Demi, but it’s a text message from Aaron.
Of course, he would save his number in my phone.
As an attorney, you would think I would be smart enough to add a passcode, but as someone who uses her laptop more than her cellphone…
a passcode truly isn’t needed. But now, yeah, it is.
Aaron
When you get to ch 20 and need someone to talk to, here is my number.
I should block his number immediately. It’s the professional thing to do, the sensible thing.
Instead, I find myself debating changing his contact from Aaron to A.S.
—just initials, as if that creates some distance between us, as if that makes this somehow less inappropriate.
I’ll leave it for now because I’m sure he and I won’t be texting on a regular.
I toss my phone into my desk drawer like it’s suddenly turned hot in my hands. Out of sight, out of mind.
Except it’s not out of my mind. Not even close.