31. Thank You, Miss Jung

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"Did you hear there's some big meeting later today? I wonder if the big boss will be there." I hear a girl from a table behind me say with a dreamy sigh in her voice. 

Wondering what she's talking about, I pull out my phone and check my work emails.

In my in-box is an email about a meeting that everyone is required to attend. It's going to be in the conference room on the eighteenth floor on Monday afternoon at 2 pm. That's an hour from now. I wonder whether we have to attend it. 

And then my heart leaps. The big boss - they must be talking about him - Jae. He's here. In the same building. Ten floors above me. 

My heart starts to pound. 

Lina appears at my desk.

"Yiseul, could you help me bring these files to the conference room? It's for the meeting. Just distribute them all around the table. Follow the seating arrangement, a file to a seat. Thanks."

"Now, you mean?"

"Yes, if you don't mind. The meeting's about an hour from now. Oh, and you guys have to be there as well. Mr. Jung will be there."

Oh God.

Okay.

I've got this.

Lina hurries off, and the girls fall back to gossiping.

"He never comes to any of the meetings. I've maybe seen him around four times in the year I've worked here. He stays holed up in his office. I hear he's a perfectionist, which I'm guessing is true because the times I did see him, he was pissed off, so..."

"Even when he's all pissed off, he's still crazy hot. I hear he's single." The women continue chatting. "He's a player though. Tons of girls running after him. More girlfriends than I can count on my fingers. He changes girlfriends like he changes his underwear..." Giggles.

"Are you sure he's wearing underwear?" Shrieks. More giggles.

I get up so abruptly that Lisa stares at me.

"I'm - off to the conference room," I say jerkily. "I'll see you guys later." 

Lisa waves at me, while Damien winks at me suggestively. He's such an asshole.

I check my phone. Nothing. No message from him.

I take the elevator to the eighteenth floor. My high heels hardly make a sound as I walk along the long and straight carpeted corridor all the way until I see the conference room. 

Soft light is shining from beneath the closed door. 

Taking a deep breath, I knock on the door.

"Come in." It's Samantha. She's sitting at a large heavy wooden table in the centre of the room, doing something on her laptop. She smiles at me warmly, and gets up from her chair. "Thank you for helping out."

The conference room is huge, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a beautiful view of the Seoul cityscape from eighteen stories up. Skyscrapers tower over the horizon, their windows shimmering in the bright sunshine.

"This is Mr. Mark Jung, our CEO. Mr. Jung, this is Jung Yiseul, our new intern."

She steps aside, and it is only then that I notice him.

Facing me from the head of the table at the furthest end is Mr. Mark Jung.

He sits there, suit jacket hanging on the chair behind him, tie loosened, crisp white shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, and chin resting on his long, elegant fingers. 

His eyes flick over me impassively, as he rises to his feet in a smooth, graceful motion.

"Miss Jung? Nice to meet you."

I clear my throat nervously.

"Yes, sir. Nice to meet you too, Mr. Jung - sir."

He reaches out a hand and touches mine, just barely, our fingertips grazing for the briefest of moments, and then he withdraws his hand, and sits down.

He is looking at his laptop, a slight frown between his brows.

He has lost interest in me.

It is as he has never spoken to me, never kissed me.

He is treating me as if I am a total stranger.

I have never felt so humiliated in my life.

I lift my chin and walk over to the table.

I sort out the files, placing each file neatly in front of each seat. I have to fight an urge not to slap the files down hard on that dark head, bowed so attentively over his screen.

Samantha sits at the other end, typing ferociously into her laptop.

"Give me one of those," he says, without taking his eyes off the laptop.

"Yes, sir," I squeak. Bastard, I say under my breath.

I walk over to him, and place the file in front of him.

"Open it," he says. "Page 5. I need to check something."

"Yes, sir."

I open the file, and flip to Page 5.

There is a graph there, and some print. I have no idea what it is, because I'm standing so close to him, breathing in that familiar scent, and it's making me giddy.

"Hold the page," he says quietly.

I hold the page. He punches some keys.

"Next page," he barks.

I flip to page 6.

He stays silent, staring intently at the document. 

"This isn't very clear." He taps the page. "Is this 6 or 8 July?"

I lean over the table, and peer at the page nervously.

"It's 6, I'm quite sure it's 6, it's - " 

I freeze, mid-sentence, my breath caught in my throat. 

His hand is pressing gently into my lower back and sliding down, settling on the curve of my bum.

The heat from his hand burns through my skirt and into my skin. Every muscle in my body tenses. My knees are turning to jelly.

Neither of us says a word. Our breathing and the muted noise of the city below and the clattering of Samantha's keyboard are the only sounds in the still air of the conference room.

"Thank you, Miss Jung."

His quiet voice breaks the silence and I straighten my back, eyes facing forward. Slowly I turn, and his hand follows my movement, skimming across me and sliding to my hip. 

I look down to meet his eyes, steady on me.

"That will be all, Miss Jung."

He withdraws his hand, and I feel a rush of cold air in the sudden emptiness.

I can feel his eyes on me all the way as I reach the door, and close it quietly behind me.

I walk back to my desk and sit down in a daze.

"You look a bit flushed," Lisa says, staring at my face. 

"It was pretty hot in there." I say, my voice high, strained. "I think the air-conditioning isn't working properly.

"The hotter, the better." Damien is leering at me. 

My phone beeps.

I look at it.

Jae: I like your hair up.

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