Morning bled softly into the bedroom, gold sunlight crawling up the tangled sheets and across Harin's bare shoulder. She blinked awake, for once not to the alarm or a flurry of urgent texts, but to the slow certainty that she was exactly where she wanted to be. Her body hummed with languid, delicious soreness—a throbbing reminder of the night before.

She lay still a moment, content to study the man sleeping next to her. Joon-ho looked impossibly young in sleep—lashes resting on his cheek, mouth parted in a breathy sigh. A faint smile curled the edge of her lips. He never let his guard down in public, always so careful, so composed. Here, now, there was nothing but peace in his face.

She shifted to slip from beneath the covers, intending to tiptoe to the bathroom. The instant her hips rolled, pain flared—muscles protesting, a sharp ache at the center of her thighs. She stifled a groan. "God…"

Joon-ho stirred, eyes fluttering open. His voice was a sleepy drawl. "Did I wake you?"

She shook her head, cheeks hot. "No, but you definitely broke me last night."

He stretched—a ripple of muscle, a lazy grin dawning as he rolled to face her. His hand found her waist, skimming over bare skin. "Can you walk, or do I need to carry you all morning?"

Harin huffed, attempting a glare. "You're proud of yourself, aren't you?"

He buried his face in her neck, laughter vibrating through his lips as he kissed her. "Of you, mostly. You're tougher than you look."

She winced, shifting again. "I might need you to book me a physio session. Or just carry me everywhere today."

His arms slipped beneath her back and knees in answer, gathering her up with ease. "Say no more, princess."

She squirmed, squealing in protest as he rose from the bed, but there was no fear of dropping—only the warm certainty of being cared for. He carried her to the bathroom, setting her gently atop the marble counter. She watched him move about the space—checking the tap, swirling the water with his hand, frowning in concentration until the temperature was just right.

The embarrassment faded, replaced by a simple joy—being looked after, cherished. It was new for her, and precious.

He knelt, brushed a kiss to her knee, then helped her off the counter and into the steaming tub. She eased down, letting the water cradle her sore limbs, sighing as tension leached away. The scent of eucalyptus rose with the steam.

She tilted her head, voice soft and teasing. "Aren't you joining me?"

He grinned, peeled off his T-shirt and boxers, and slid into the tub behind her, settling with his arms loosely around her waist. Her back fit perfectly against his chest; his chin tucked over her shoulder.

They sat quietly, the water swirling around them, steam fogging the mirror. Harin closed her eyes, focusing on the easy rhythm of his breath and the steady beat of his heart against her spine.

"I could get used to mornings like this…" she murmured, smile curling her lips.

Joon-ho tightened his hold, pressing his lips to her temple. "Then let's make it a habit."

She hummed in reply, the world narrowing to the warmth of his arms, the pulse of the bathwater, and the certainty that she belonged right here. In that small, private world, nothing else mattered—not work, not the chaos to come. There was only this—a morning cocooned in love and sunlight, and the promise of more tomorrows.

The bathroom was thick with warmth and fog. Steam curled in slow spirals above the tub, softening the hard lines of the tiles, making the room feel smaller, more secret, as if the world outside could not reach them here.

Harin settled back between Joon-ho's thighs, luxuriating in the hot water as it loosened the ache in her muscles. Her body bore the evidence of last night—faint bruises blooming on her hips, a low burn along her inner thighs, the afterglow that made every nerve feel tender, open. She closed her eyes, let her head tip back onto his chest, and for a moment simply let herself drift, boneless and happy.

Behind her, Joon-ho wrapped his arms around her waist. She could feel his breath on her neck, the rise and fall of his chest, the hard length of him stirring against her lower back. He nuzzled the curve of her shoulder, his lips damp, leaving lazy kisses along her skin.

She giggled softly, stretching like a cat. "You know, I used to hate mornings. They always felt rushed, cold, lonely. But this…"

She trailed off, content to just float in the hush. He traced lazy circles on her stomach with his palm.

"I could get used to this too," he murmured, voice still thick with sleep. "We should make it a habit."

Harin turned slightly, grinning at him over her shoulder. "Is that your way of proposing daily bath time? Because I'm going to need a new job title if you keep wrecking my body."

His laugh rumbled against her back. "CEO of Recovery?"

She poked his thigh with her toe. "You joke, but I'm already rethinking my entire career path. 'Professional kept woman' has a nice ring."

He grinned, then reached under the water, his hand sliding up her inner thigh, lingering at the crease where her legs parted. She squirmed, biting her lip as his fingers toyed with her under the bubbles.

She gasped, then swatted his hand playfully. "Hey! At this rate, I really will be bedridden. Besides—" she shifted her hips, purposefully grinding back against him, feeling his cock thicken and rise "—don't you have a meeting later? Or are you planning to spend all day in here?"

He caught her earlobe between his teeth, gave it a gentle tug. "Don't tempt me. I could cancel everything for you."

She groaned, rolling her eyes even as her body arched into him. "You're trouble, Kim Joon-ho."

He found her nipple under the water, rolling it between his fingers until it peaked, drawing a helpless moan from her lips. "Maybe. But you love it."

She surrendered, letting her head loll back on his shoulder. The water moved with them, soft waves lapping at the sides of the tub. The city outside was just a muted glow through the frosted glass, and all the pressure of work and responsibility felt far away.

After a few delicious minutes of wordless caresses—his hands mapping her ribs, her belly, the curve of her hip—Harin twisted in his arms until she was facing him, straddling his lap, her knees bracketing his thighs. Her hair was wet, clinging to her cheeks, framing her face with wild, careless beauty.

She rested her arms around his neck, meeting his gaze. "We should talk business before you make me forget my own name."

He laughed, brushing her damp hair off her forehead. "Deal. So, CEO Kang, are you really ready to run an agency with me?"

She sobered, studying his face, the set of his jaw, the honesty in his eyes. "Do you really trust me with this? It's a big risk—going up against EON, starting from scratch. If we lose, it could get ugly."

He cupped her cheek, thumb stroking her skin. "I trust you more than anyone. You're sharp, unflappable, loyal. I need someone who isn't afraid to tell me when I'm being an idiot."

She snorted. "That's a lot of the time, oppa."

He shrugged, unapologetic. "Exactly. And I know you'll protect Mirae. That's what matters most right now."

She softened, lowering her eyes. "You're really doing all this for her."

He didn't deny it. "I am. But it's not just about Mirae. It's about all of us—building something safer, saner, somewhere people can breathe."

She ran her fingers over his chest, tracing old scars, new muscles, the body she'd come to know so well. "Okay. I'll do it. But I have conditions."

He arched a brow, intrigued. "Name them."

"First, equal time. I know you're going to keep collecting women like stray cats, but as CEO I want a guarantee—extra days off for me, personal bonuses, midnight cuddles, and—" she leaned in, brushing her lips against his "—priority access to your massage skills. And your cock."

He grinned, catching her mouth in a slow, deep kiss, pulling her flush against him so her breasts pressed to his chest, their slick bodies sliding together under the water. "Done. But you have to promise not to embezzle company funds for sex toys."

She gasped, mock-offended, then pinched his side. "As if I'd pay for them when you'll buy anything I ask for."

They dissolved into laughter, clinging to each other, the water sloshing between their bodies. When their mirth subsided, Harin leaned her head on his shoulder again, quieter now, letting herself be held.

A few minutes passed with only the sound of water and the hum of the city below. The conversation turned contemplative—dreams of what their agency could be.

"What if this actually works?" she asked, voice small. "What if we build something real?"

He squeezed her, his words steady and certain. "Then we change lives. We take in the ones nobody else will touch, give them a shot at happiness. And we make money—enough to protect everyone."

She traced a line down his chest, thinking. "It'll be a target, though. You're about to make some very powerful enemies."

He nodded, unafraid. "I've made peace with that. For the right reasons, I'm willing to fight."

She lifted her head, searching his face. "If it ever gets to be too much—if you ever need to walk away—"

He kissed her, slow and sure, answering before she could finish. "You're my exit plan, Harin. You, and all of you. If this industry burns down around me, I want to burn with the people I love."

She blinked away sudden tears, shaking her head with a smile. "God, you're such a sap."

He wiped a droplet from her cheek, eyes fond. "Just for you, CEO Kang."

A companionable silence settled over them, full of possibility and promise. They stayed like that, entwined, until the water cooled, the morning slipped away, and reality crept back in.

Finally, Harin sat up, grinning. "We should get out, or we'll both be prunes."

He stood, helped her out, wrapped her in a towel, and kissed her forehead.

As she dried off, she caught his gaze in the mirror, saw the certainty there—the same look he'd given her last night, and again in the bath. No matter what storms came, she knew she had a partner who would hold the line with her, who'd trust her to lead, to build, to dream.

They dressed together, trading soft jokes and light touches, already planning the day ahead—meetings, calls, first steps toward a new future.

Outside, the city was fully awake, but in their little world, a new story was just beginning.

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