Chapter 2

He opens the door for me, and I whisper a quiet "Thanks," stepping inside as my heart races. I look around the house, it's neither too big nor too small, just enough for five or six people to live comfortably.

"Your room's upstairs," he says. "I renovated yours and your dad's rooms a few days ago, but if you want to change anything, feel free. I know your dad, so that part was easy. But I couldn't guess what kind of wallpaper, furniture, or other stuff you'd like."

He's clearly trying to make conversation, probably sensing my awkwardness. I notice he hasn't locked the door as he walks toward the kitchen.

"That's okay, Mr. Kim," I reply, trying to sound casual. "I'm not that picky."

He looks at me and chuckles, then reaches up to remove his mask. I hold my breath without even realizing it the moment I see his face. It's like looking at a work of art. Every feature harmonizes so perfectly it feels unreal. His big, doe like eyes seem warm and playful one second, then smolderingly intense the next. Soft, long lashes frame them beautifully, making them even more captivating.

His nose is straight and graceful, perfectly proportioned for his face. Then my gaze settles on his lips-full and tempting, moving up and down as he speaks, and then curving into the most disarming smile. My eyes trail further to his jawline, sharp and chiseled as if carved by the gods themselves, contrasting perfectly with his glowing, smooth cheeks. Every detail, from his radiant skin to the gentle arch of his brows to the tiny beauty mark just beneath his lip-creates the image of someone ethereal and impossibly captivating. I feel trapped just looking at him.

"Are you even listening, Iris?" His voice jolts me out of my daydream as he waves a hand in front of me, still wearing that same sweet smile.

Fuck, he saw it.

Heat floods my face as I realize I must have been openly staring. I clear my throat, hoping to ease the tension coiled inside me.

"S-Sorry.... I was just----"

"No, it's fine," he replies, his smile deepening. "I was asking if you'd like me to help you with your luggage?"

There's a knowing glint in his eyes, like he's trying not to laugh. God, he noticed.

"N--no, it's okay," I say quickly, avoiding his gaze. "I can manage."

He gives me a sweet smile before turning toward the kitchen, only to glance back at me one last time.

"Is there anything you don't like to eat? I'm going to cook, so if there's something you'd rather avoid, just let me know," he says.

My dad never asked me about my preferences, and honestly, I never cared much about food. But hearing him ask, I feel an unexpected warmth blossom in my chest.

"Zucchini and lotus root," I reply.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise before letting out a light laugh and heading into the kitchen.

I give him one last glance before going upstairs. I don't know why I don't want him out of my sight, maybe because he looks like a Greek god come to life. I can't help wondering if his son is just as handsome.

Still thinking about Mr. Kim, I make my way up the stairs and into the first room. The door swings open, and I freeze. Everything is pink bubblegum pink, baby pink, you name it. From the bedsheets to the carpet, it looks like a five year old girl's dream.

"D- Did he not know I'm 26 years old? " I mutter to myself, cringing looking around the pink room.

Still, it's not my place, so I suppress my disgust. Even though he told me I could change things, it would feel rude to do so too soon. Resigned, I drag my suitcase in with a sigh and begin unpacking as quickly as I can, mostly because I want to head back downstairs, not just to stare at him, but also to offer some help.

_____

When I come back down, the front door opens, and my dad enters with the three suitcases, looking unusually cheerful.

"Have you put your stuff away?" he asks as he drags the suitcases inside by himself.

"Yeah," I reply. "You can go unpack too. Don't expect me to help, by the way. You have a ton of stuff, so good luck," I add with a shrug.

He scoffs. "I know. Don't worry, your highness, my brain screws are on right place," he teases, bowing his head with an exaggerated flair that makes me roll my eyes.

He disappears upstairs, and my gaze naturally drifts toward the kitchen where Mr. Kim is looking at me with a light smile on his face. Almost like I'd caught him off guard, he quickly looks away and busies himself with the cooking.

For some reason, seeing him like that makes my heart skip a beat and my ego swell. I wander over to him.

"Can I help you with anything?" I offer.

He looks up at me, one brow arched. "I thought you didn't like working?"

I curse inwardly. "That's only when it comes to Dad," I reply, gesturing toward the suitcases outside. "You saw all that stuff. Half of it is junk he's been collecting forever. There's more in the car, too. It drives me crazy."

He laughs at my explanation. "That's just one of Martin Ross's old habits," he says warmly.

"More like a hoarding problem," I grumble.

Still chuckling, he hands me a few vegetables. "In that case, can you wash these?"

My face brightens as I take them. I rinse the vegetables while he stirs the sauce. Without saying anything more, I start chopping the veggies into neat cubes. He doesn't stop me.

When the sauce is ready, he scoops up a small spoonful and holds it up. "Taste it," he says.

Those two simple words turn my knees to jelly. I swallow hard, my heart pounding as I lean in. Parting my lips, I carefully lick the sauce, unsure if it's spicy. But the moment my tongue meets the spoon, I realize just how suggestive and inappropriate that was.

My face burns with embarrassment as I look up. To my surprise, Mr. Kim is staring at me, eyes wide and frozen like someone zapped him with a jolt of electricity. The silence stretches on until a young guy clears his throat-----

"I'm home, Dad!"

To be continued