Owning You - A Na Jaemin Fanfic

7. The First Date

I receive a text from an unknown number the next morning.

Good morning, Miss Kim. My name is Ada Baek. I am Mr. Na Jaemin's private secretary. Mr. Na is taking you out to dinner tonight. Please be ready by 6.00 pm. A car will collect you at the said time. Your punctuality would be highly appreciated.

I stare at the words for a beat, trying to work through my shock.

Can't he message me himself? Does he even have my cell number? I text Ada back. Got it.

My mother knows about my sham first date. She looks at me over the brim of her cup of coffee.

"Make sure you dress nicely. They will be taking pictures of you."

I almost drop my fork.

Wow. The shiny new fiancéé is to be paraded to the world. Why haven't I seen that coming?

She eyes me distastefully.

"Really, Haeri. How many times must I tell you to watch your diet? Do you know how many calories there are in that fried egg?"

I stare at my egg. I like fried eggs.

"Salad." She scoops some green stuff into a silver bowl. "Eat this," she signals to the maid standing at attention behind her. "Remove that." The maid removes my partially-eaten fried egg. But I like fried eggs. I don't say anything, of course. My mother pushes the salad toward me. I lift my fork. The cabbage crunches as I dive my fork into it. I hate cabbage. I hate my mother. I hate my life.

My mother leaves for her weekly ladies' meeting. This is where the rich trophy wives get together at an exclusive club to gossip and while away their time. My father is busy at work, negotiating more deals to make himself even richer.

I do my homework. A stylist comes at 4.30 pm. My name is Helena, she says, smiling politely. She has been sent over by my fiancéé's family. Her job, she informs me, is to co-ordinate my dressing. Wow. She lays a bunch of clothes on the bed. Which one would you like, Miss Kim? I'll take a shower, I say, amused. And then I'll decide. I shower. But not for too long. I wouldn't want to be late for my first date with Mr. Na Jaemin. Tardiness is not to be tolerated in a trophy fiancéé. I decide on a pale colour. I want to fade into nothingness tonight. My thoughts, what I want, are not important; I am just a cog in the Grand Machinery of Marrying Well. I slip into a cream, silk frock with a short hem and a high neckline. It is a very proper dress, what a pure and virginal girl would wear on her first date.

The limo arrives at exactly 6.00 pm.

I step into a pair of soft pink, feathered Jimmy Choo mules, and I feel a shift to the air in the room. My parents are standing at attention, smiling. Jaemin strides in with long, easy steps.

His presence dominates the room. Our gazes meet, and hold. My heart stutters in my chest, and he smiles like he is happy to see me. For a moment, I almost stop breathing. And then, I hear the quick shutter of multiple professional cameras going off. A horde of photographers are crowded around him. Ah. Of course. What was I thinking? It's all staged. And every stage needs an audience. I am good at this. I am the consummate actress. I have been playing a role ever since the day I could finally think. I smile back at Jaemin. He starts toward me, and I wonder if I am supposed to meet him halfway. But he moves too quickly, so the decision is taken out of my hands. And then, he is on me.

I haven't seen him since last night.

He is all lean lines and careless charm, a good two heads taller than me.

I'd almost forgotten he is even better looking in person, and more gorgeous than my fevered memories of him. He is refined and polished and devastating and overwhelming. He is dressed in a dark three-piece suit and he is so tall I have to creak my neck to look up at him. His light silky hair is combed back from his face, accentuating his perfect bone structure. He is a work of art. And his eyes. God, his eyes. Dark brown, with a wicked, almost dangerous glint in them to make my knees go weak. He has something in his hand, but I barely have time to note it before he bows.