Jungkook's POV

The doorbell rang, and I shot up from my desk like I'd been caught doing something I wasn't supposed to.

I barely had time to shut my laptop before I was halfway down the hallway, smoothing down my hoodie and brushing my fingers through my hair like that would hide the fact that I was oddly nervous.

Not about the meeting.

About her seeing too much.

About Y/N overhearing something she shouldn't, or Layla accidentally letting slip what I actually do for a living. For some reason, I couldn't stomach the thought of Y/N looking at me differently. Right now, she treated me like any other slightly grumpy, slightly awkward man she worked for—and I liked that.

A lot more than I wanted to admit.

I swung the door open.

The core members of my Seoul team stood there, a little confused but used to last-minute changes by now.

"Morning," I mumbled, stepping aside and waving them in.

First came Sera, head of marketing, with her magenta bob and tiny cat-eye glasses. Then Chan, my creative director, who was somehow wearing a hoodie despite the July heat. Jiyoon, our lead UX designer, looked the most polished, crisp white blouse and minimal makeup, though she wore the same weary startup expression the rest of us carried like under-eye bags.

"Annyeonghaseyo," Sera greeted formally. "CEO Jeon—"

"Just call me Jungkook," I interrupted, tone sharper than intended.

She blinked, taken aback. "Um... sure. Jungkook-ssi."

"Where are we setting up?" Chan asked, shifting the monitor box in his arms.

"Follow me." I kept my voice low and headed toward the hallway, trying to keep everything casual and nonchalant.

But the moment I stepped into the kitchen, I smelled it—fresh butter, garlic, and toasted seaweed—and froze mid-step like an idiot.

Shit.

"Perfect timing!" Y/N stood at the stove, flipping what looked like kimchi-butter toast in a pan, her lips pulled into that crooked smile that always hit harder than it should. She wore soft black leggings that fit too damn well, a loose navy T-shirt hanging off one shoulder, and neon green socks that made no sense but somehow suited her.

"Wow," Sera whispered behind me, clearly caught off guard.

Y/N raised her spatula in greeting. "Annyeonghaseyo. You must be the mysterious team he's always texting but never introduces."

Chan looked like he'd forgotten how to blink. "Do you... need help with anything?"

"Nope," she said cheerfully. "Breakfast is basically done. I made gyeran-mari, kimchi toast, and there's hoddeok if anyone has a sweet tooth. Don't worry, it's not poisoned. I taste-tested everything myself."

Jiyoon gave a soft laugh. "You cooked all this?"

Y/N shrugged. "Layla helped."

At the table, Layla looked up from her tablet. "Hi! I cracked eggs!"

The whole group softened at once, throwing out their own hellos and bows as they gathered near the table.

"Layla-yah, introduce yourself," Y/N nudged her gently.

"I'm Layla," she announced. "I live here with my uncle Jungkook and Y/N unnie. They're not married though. Yet."

My head snapped toward her. "Layla."

Y/N choked on a laugh. "You're going to get me fired, you little rascal."

My team laughed, and I tried to play it off, but my ears were already burning. I grabbed a chair, trying to focus on literally anything other than the way Y/N's laugh had wormed its way into my chest.

We all sat. Plates were filled. Seconds were requested. Compliments were thrown out like confetti.

Y/N just brushed it off with that same casual grace she always had—like she didn't know how good she was at making people feel at home.

Eventually, I managed to herd my team into my home office.

The door shut behind us with a click, and instantly Chan gave me that stupid look.

"No wonder you've been in a good mood lately," he muttered.

"She's the house manager," I replied flatly. "And Layla's nanny."

"Right," he said under his breath. "And I'm the CEO of Samsung."

I glared.

"Just saying," Chan added, throwing his hands up in surrender. "If I had someone like her making kimchi toast and looking at me like that every morning, I wouldn't be calling it platonic either."

"Drop it," I warned.

But even as they opened up their laptops and we got to work, my eyes wandered to the kitchen doorway more than once.

To the way her laugh lingered in the walls.

To the way she made this house—a place that had felt like nothing but quiet responsibility since Layla moved in—feel alive.

She didn't care about who I was.

She didn't ask what my net worth was or why strangers bowed to me in public.

She just was. Loud. Smart. Sarcastic. Gorgeous.

And mine to watch, not touch.

At least for now.

God help me. I glared at Chan like I was ready to fire him on the spot.

"Focus," I snapped. "Put that so-called creativity toward the actual game. Not my niece's nanny."

Jiyoon and Sera burst out laughing, covering their mouths like middle schoolers caught gossiping. Chan just grinned, completely unbothered, as he tapped away on his laptop.

"Sure thing, boss oh!...hyung-nim," he said, smirking without looking up.

Asshole.

I turned back to my monitor, pretending to dive back into work, but my jaw was tight and my eyes couldn't stop flicking toward the kitchen door, like she might float in at any moment and wreck my last shred of discipline.

The next few hours flew by in a blur of focused collaboration—UI tweaks, bug notes, updated design assets. We made more progress in six hours than we had in the last three months combined. It should've felt like a win. But it didn't.

Because no matter how fast my fingers moved across the keyboard, they still remembered the way her waist curved into her hips. My brain still rewound to that morning—how the heat shimmered around her when she leaned over the stove, how her leggings clung like they'd been designed in hell just to torment me.

Was I some kind of criminal in my past life? Some villainous bastard who now had to pay by living with temptation and not being allowed to touch it?

Her.
Y/N.

Too pretty. Too sharp. Too damn close.

And her smile? It wasn't even fair. The way her whole face lit up, eyes sparkling like she knew I was watching but didn't care? That did something to me I didn't want to name. I wasn't even sure it had a name.

Did she have to be so fucking bright all the time? So cheerful with Layla, humming while she worked, flitting around the house like she belonged here? Like she belonged to someone?

She didn't belong to anyone.

Not yet.

I shifted in my seat and clenched my fists. My focus was slipping—again.

And then came the thoughts I hated most.

What did she sleep in?

Was she one of those girls who wore some ridiculous lacy thing they buy in online sales but only use twice a year?
Or was she practical—just a big tee and no panties?
Or... no clothes at all?

"Shit," I hissed under my breath, dragging a hand down my face.

"Everything alright, CEO Jeon?" Sera didn't even bother hiding her knowing smirk, like she could read my thoughts straight off my forehead.

Just the usual—sleepless nights, cold showers, and filthy thoughts of my housekeeper/nanny bent over my kitchen table, whispering my name like a sin.

Nothing at all.

I glared at her too. "Yeah. Everything's perfect."

"Mm-hm." She exchanged a look with Jiyoon, who chuckled softly, but at least they had the sense not to push it further.

I tried to focus again, clicking through dashboards and error logs, but then Chan had to open his damn mouth again.

"I get it though," he said casually, not even looking up. "Red hair's my weakness too. And curves like that?" He gave a low whistle. "Hard not to think about, boss."

I snapped my gaze toward him, jaw tightening hard enough to crack a molar.

"Watch yourself," I said quietly.

"Dude, relax. I'm just saying," he replied with a half-laugh, like I was being ridiculous. "It's not like she's your girlfriend or anything."

That wasn't the point.

I hated the way he said it—like she was available for the taking. Like someone else could touch her, flirt with her, slide their hand down her back while she laughed—

No. Fuck that.

"She's Layla's nanny," I said coldly, tone final. "Not your office fantasy."

Chan raised his brows but backed off. I could feel the tension ripple around the room after that, but I didn't give a damn. Let them be uncomfortable. Maybe they'd think twice before talking about her like that again.

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling.

Just a few more hours. Just get through today.

Then maybe I'd take another freezing cold shower, close my eyes, and try not to picture her standing at the foot of my bed... wearing nothing but that damned crooked smile.