Chapter 4: I'm Not A Rabbit

Emily’s POV

“Draft it, and after I read it, we can talk.”

What. The. Hell. Is. Wrong. With. Me?!

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. A semblance of professionalism, of self-preservation, kicking in through the haze of shock and hangover. I couldn’t just agree to this madness. Not without seeing the fine print that would undoubtedly sign my life away.

Jin’s eyebrows lifted a fraction, the only sign of his surprise. He’d probably expected more stammering, more panicked rabbit behavior. Not a request for contractual documentation.

I’m not even sure why the hell I’m agreeing to this!

“A prudent response,” he acknowledged, a hint of approval in his tone that irrationally annoyed me. He reached over to the other side of the enormous bed, to a nightstand I hadn’t noticed, and picked up a sleek tablet. He tapped the screen a few times. “It’s already drafted. Standard NDA, confidentiality clauses, terms of engagement, and compensation.”

Of course it is, I thought numbly. He probably has a template for this. “Contract for Fake Girlfriend Services.” The absurdity was staggering.

He held the tablet out to me. My legs felt like lead as I stood up and walked the few steps to the bed. Taking it from him, my fingers brushed against his. A jolt, hot and unwelcome, shot up my arm. I snatched my hand back, clutching the tablet like a lifeline.

I retreated to the armchair, my heart thumping wildly. The screen glowed with dense, legal text. My eyes skimmed the headings, my brain struggling to focus.

CONFIDENTIALITY AND NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT…

TERMS OF ENGAGEMENT: The Party of the Second Part (hereinafter “the Companion”) shall act as the romantic partner of the Party of the First Part (hereinafter “the Principal”) at agreed-upon social functions…

COMPENSATION: The Principal agrees to pay the Companion the sum of two hundred thousand dollars ($200,000) upon satisfactory completion of the term, defined as a period not less than three (3) months and not more than twelve (12) months…

The numbers blurred. Two hundred thousand dollars. I had to read it twice. It was more money than I made in two years. It was a down payment on an apartment. It was freedom from my student loans.

My eyes dropped to the next clause.

ADDITIONAL CONSIDERATION: Upon termination of this agreement, the Principal will grant the Companion one (1) exclusive interview, the content of which is subject to the Principal’s final approval…

There it was—the interview. The one thing I wanted professionally, now reduced to a clause in the most bizarre contract I would ever sign.

I kept reading, my skin prickling. There were rules. So many rules.

The Companion will not initiate physical contact with the Principal in public without prior consent.

The Companion will not discuss the terms of this agreement with any third party, including family members or close associates.

The Companion’s conduct, both in public and in any situation where the facade of the relationship must be maintained, shall be deemed appropriate by the Principal…

It was cold, clinical, and dehumanizing. I was to be a prop, a well-dressed, well-compensated puppet.

I finally looked up from the screen, my throat tight. Jin was watching me, his expression unreadable.

“’The Companion’?” I said, my voice hollow. “That’s what I am? A companion? Like a… like a pet?”

“It’s a legal term,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion. “It’s clean. Neutral.”

“It’s disgusting,” I whispered, but the fight was draining out of me, replaced by a heavy, weary understanding. He’d boxed me into a corner. I could walk away now, go back to my life, my failed career, my certain firing, and the eternal humiliation of knowing what I’d done. Or I could sign this insane deal and walk away with enough money to start over and the career-making story I’d killed for.

It was no choice at all.

I found my finger hovering over the signature line on the screen. A digital stylus was tucked into the tablet’s case. My hand was shaking.

“I need to call my boss,” I said suddenly, the thought of Kevin a sharp sting of guilt. “I have to tell him something. I can’t just vanish.”

“The agreement stipulates confidentiality,” Jin said, his voice firm. “You tell him the interview was a success, but it is under an embargo until I give the final sign-off. That is, technically, true.”

The lies were already building, a house of cards that could collapse at any moment. I took a deep, shuddering breath. This was it. The point of no return.

I scrolled further down the contract, my eyes catching on a clause that made me snort, a sudden, incredulous laugh breaking through my tension.

CLAUSE 7.3: The Companion agrees that during the term of this agreement, she will not develop, foster, or act upon any romantic feelings or attachment toward the Principal. This is a professional arrangement, and any breach of this emotional boundary will be grounds for immediate termination without compensation.

I looked up from the tablet, a sharp, sarcastic remark poised on my lips. "Seriously? Clause 7.3? 'Will not develop feelings'?" I shook my head, a dry laugh escaping me. "You really are full of yourself, aren't you? Worried little old me is going to fall hopelessly in love with you? Trust me, that is not a liability you need to insure yourself against."

Jin didn't even blink. His expression remained as impassive as granite. "Experience has taught me that clear boundaries are necessary. Infatuation leads to complications. Complications lead to broken NDAs. I'm simply safeguarding my investment."

His investment. I was an asset to be managed—a risk to be mitigated.

"Right," I muttered, my cheeks heating again, this time with indignation rather than embarrassment. I kept reading, my lawyerly instincts—honed from years of reading boring contracts at the magazine—kicking in. Then I found it. Another clause that made me pause.

CLAUSE 8.1: The Companion agrees to a standard of exclusivity for the duration of this agreement. She will not engage in any romantic or sexual relationships with any other party, so as to maintain the integrity of the public facade.

My eyes scanned up and down the page. There was no corresponding clause for him. Nothing that bound him to the same standard.

"Hold on," I said, my voice sharp. I tapped the screen. "This says I have to be exclusive. Where's the clause that says you can't see other people? What, are you allowed to have a harem on the side while I'm playing your chaste little girlfriend?"

Jin shrugged one shoulder, a gesture of supreme, infuriating nonchalance. "It's unnecessary. I know how to be discreet. My private life will remain exactly that: private. You needn't worry about a scandal arising from my end."

The sheer, blatant unfairness of it was a spark to my temper. "Oh, I needn't worry? How generous of you. But it's not about a scandal, it's about basic fairness. If this is a business arrangement, then the rules should apply to both parties. If you get to see other people, then I should have the same privilege."

The atmosphere in the room shifted. The casual distance in Jin's eyes vanished, replaced by something darker, more intense. In one fluid motion, he swung his legs out of the bed and stood up. He didn't approach me like a man; he moved with the silent, predatory grace of a panther, closing the distance between us in a few strides until he was looming over my chair.

I shrank back, the tablet suddenly feeling like a flimsy shield.

He placed a hand on either armrest, caging me in, his face inches from mine. His voice was a low, dangerous purr that vibrated through me.

"Let me be perfectly clear, rabbit," he said, the nickname sounding like a threat now. "This is not a negotiation for your dating life. You are being paid a considerable sum of money to perform a role. That role is mine. Exclusively. The idea of you with someone else while under contract with me..." He let the sentence hang, his blue eyes flashing with a possessiveness that stole the air from my lungs. "It introduces a variable I will not tolerate. It makes the facade messy. Unconvincing. I’ve kept my matters private for years; you can’t find a single article about my love life, but I can’t say the same thing for you, can I?"

He leaned in closer, his gaze boring into mine. "Your privilege is the two hundred thousand dollars and the exclusive interview waiting for you at the end of this. That is the extent of our negotiation. Do you understand?"

Fear was a cold fist in my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. But something else rose to meet it, hot and sharp and defiant. This man, with all his power and money, thought he could cage me. He thought I was a rabbit.

My eyes hardened, but I didn't shrink back further. I leaned forward into his space until the heat of his body was a tangible force against mine. The move was so unexpected that his predatory stillness faltered for a fraction of a second.

"Let me be perfectly clear right back, Jin," I said, my voice low and steady, belying the frantic beat of my heart. "I am not your rabbit. I am not your pet. And I am certainly not your possession."

I held up the tablet between us, a physical barrier against his intensity. "This?" I tapped the screen. "This is a business deal. You're right. And in a business deal, both parties have leverage. You hold the money and the interview. But I hold the performance. Without a convincing performance, your little plan falls apart. Your family will see right through a woman who's treated like a paid employee. And from where I'm sitting, being the only one bound by exclusivity feels a lot like being owned, not employed."

I let my gaze drop pointedly to his hands on my armrests, then back to his eyes, a challenge. "You want a convincing facade? Then it has to be a two-way street. Otherwise, you can find another 'Companion' to play your puppet. But good luck finding one who can argue economic policy with you and still remember she's not actually yours."

The air crackled between us. His eyes narrowed, the dark blue deepening into a stormy sea. The possessiveness was still there, but it was now mingled with something else—surprise, and a flicker of stark, undeniable interest. He was used to people cowering. I was not cowering.

A slow, dangerous smile touched his lips, but didn't reach his eyes. "You have a point," he conceded, his voice still that low, unsettling purr. "Perhaps the clause is... overly restrictive."

He didn't move away, but the pressure of his presence shifted. It was no longer just about intimidation. It was an assessment. A recalculation.

"However," he continued, his eyes tracing my face, "the core requirement stands. The appearance of exclusivity is non-negotiable. What I do in my private time is my concern, and it will remain private. Your concern is maintaining the illusion. Any breach of that illusion, any scandal that touches you during the term of our agreement, will be considered a violation. Do we understand each other now, Emily?"

My heart was still hammering, but a grim sense of victory settled in my gut. I hadn't won, but I hadn't lost either. I'd stood my ground. I’d made him blink.

"We understand each other perfectly," I said, my voice cool. I picked up the stylus from the tablet's case. My hand was steady now. "This is a transaction. Nothing more."

And with that, I scrawled my name across the digital signature line. The screen flashed, accepting it. The deal was struck.

I was now the fake girlfriend of Baek Jin.