Chapter 9 My First Sight In Seoul

I turned, groaning Kiki raised her hands. Saying "Just Kidding! I blinked and suddenly just noticed I haven't finished cleaning up the kitchen

The kitchen smelled like caramel and toasted almonds-the aftermath of my early-morning pastry experiment. I'd been testing brown butter shortbread with cardamom glaze, and the sweet linger in the air made the stainless-steel counters feel just a little softer.

I had just finished boxing up the extra cookies when Kiki,about sipping her second iced americano of the day like it was oxygen.

I smirked and started wiping down the counters. I went back to chopping scallions.

I didn't hear him at first.

Just the sudden shift in Kiki's tone.

"Mr. Ren," she said sharply.

I looked up.

Ren Sion stepped into the kitchen hallway like he owned the marble-and probably did. He wore a slate-gray suit that looked vacuum-sealed to his frame. His shoes were silent. His jaw, freshly shaven. His tie, thin and precise. He looked less like a tech CEO and more like the opening scene of a drama no one could afford.

"I'll be back late tonight," he said. "Conference call in Busan."

Kiki nodded crisply. "Understood, sir."

But then his eyes flicked toward me.

And they didn't leave.

I was standing with one foot on a step stool, wiping a shelf with a sponge in one hand and a towel over my shoulder. Hair wrapped. Apron tied. Shirt slightly wrinkled. A dab of flour still clung to the side of my jeans.

His eyes narrowed-not harshly. More like... observation with a twist of something else.

Then he spoke.

"She needs a wardrobe change."

I blinked. "I-what?"

He tilted his head, mock-serious. "Aprons and flour-smudged sneakers aren't exactly appropriate for a formal hotel lounge in Dubai."

Wait, what?

Kiki hesitated. "Sir, are you saying-"

"You're both coming."

He turned to Kiki. "You'll handle the schedule. And take her shopping before we go."

Shopping?

"Wait," I said, lowering the cloth. "I'm sorry-go where?"

But he was already walking off.

The faint scent of cedarwood and control followed him out of the room like a signature.

Kiki stared after him. "Did... he just say what I think he said?"

I looked down at myself. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

"Nothing," she said, grinning like Christmas had come early. "But girl, if he's taking you shopping?"

I raised a brow.

"That means," she continued, "he's planning to keep you."

I swallowed.

Kiki narrowed her eyes. "You might be the first chef to survive a whole year in that mansion."

Somehow... that thought made my hands shake more than the knives ever did.

Thirty minutes later, Kiki and I were at the entryway gathering our things.

I'd swapped my apron for a light jacket and finally washed the flour off my wrist. My heart still hadn't stopped thudding.

Kiki checked her tablet again. "We're cutting it close. His call is in four hours. It'll take two to get there."

"I can't believe he wants me to go," I said.

"You made him juice and a three-continent breakfast," she replied. "You basically cast a spell."

As we walked toward the garage, I stepped off the last stair-then suddenly, my foot slid across a patch of slick marble.

My bag swung forward.

And just like that-

I fell.

Not gracefully. Not stylishly.

Arms flailing. Back hitting the floor with a very uncool thud. My hair wrap came slightly loose. My pride took a major hit.

Kiki gasped. "Oh my God-are you okay?"

But another voice cut in.

His.

"That answers the question," Ren said from the hallway entrance, one hand casually in his coat pocket. "She walks like a toddler. Not a chef."

I glared up at him from the floor.

"I tripped," I muttered, sitting up and adjusting my headwrap. "i just fell."

He raised an eyebrow. "So"

Kiki knelt beside me. "She's fine," she reported, barely hiding her smile.

I got up slowly. My hip ached a little, but not enough to limp.

Ren's eyes scanned me again-not rudely. Just... clinically.

"next time be a little careful?" Ren said.

"Didn't realize I had to pass an obstacle course just to get dressed."

He didn't reply.

Just smirked slightly. Like I'd scored a half point.

"Shoes on," he said to both of us. "We leave in ten."

Then he turned and walked off again, coat flaring behind him.

Kiki exhaled next to me. "He definitely saw that fall."

"Can we not talk about it?"

"We'll add it to the training manual. 'Survive the Fall of Shame.'"

I huffed and brushed off my jacket.

But even as we walked toward the car, I couldn't shake it.

That flicker in his eyes when he looked at me.

It wasn't attraction. Not yet.

But it wasn't indifference anymore either.

It was something.

And I wasn't sure I was ready to name it.