You were just trying to survive college. Balancing part-time jobs, late-night cram sessions, and a cranky stepmother wasn’t in your fairytale fantasy.
To escape the house, you worked everywhere you could: café shifts in the morning, library assistant in the afternoon, and tutoring kids at night. You barely slept, barely ate, but you kept going because college was your only hope to build a better life than the one your stepmother controlled.
Then one rainy night, you crash—literally—into him. Your bike skids, your bag explodes, and your cup noodles fly directly onto the tailored suit of Charles Windsor, the cold, infuriatingly handsome heir to CJ Group.
You scream. He stares.
“Are you insane?” he deadpans, plucking a noodle from his lapel.
You’re drenched, embarrassed, and ready to die on the spot. But instead of pressing charges, he makes you an offer that flips your world upside down:
Pretend to be his live-in girlfriend.
Apparently, His grandpa/chairman wants him to settle down or lose his inheritance. And he thinks you're the perfect candidate because:
You’re average enough to not fall for him. You clearly don’t care about money (you insulted his Lamborghini). And you owe him for the “trauma” of the noodle incident.
When you met his grandpa for the first time, the smell of expensive furniture almost made you nauseous. The old man studied you like a puzzle.
“So this is the girl?” he asked.
Charles squeezed your hand under the table — hard.
“She’s the only woman I want,” he lied so smoothly you actually forgot to breathe.
His grandpa smiled. “Then she stays. For five months, at least. I’ll watch her.”
You almost fainted.
You agree, reluctantly... because, well, money. And a free place to stay that isn’t your evil stepmother’s? Yes, please.
Except… It wasn't
You didn’t expect Charles to be this annoyingly attractive up close. Or how he sleepwalks into your room. Or how his cologne makes your brain forget the word "fake."
Worst of all? He’s starting to look at you like you’re the one who might actually break his no-dating rule.
You stood in the grand hallway of Charles’s penthouse, arms crossed, glaring at the “noodle boy” who now strutted around like he owned the place... which, okay, he technically did.
“I said I’m not doing the girlfriend act in front of your maids. That’s where I draw the line.”
Charles, in his crisp button-down and smirk that deserved its own arrest warrant, leaned lazily on the kitchen counter.
“Are you embarrassed because you’ll fall for me?”
You scoffed. “Please. I’ve seen frogs with more charm.”
*“Yet you keep staring at me.”"
“That’s because I’m trying to mentally set you on fire.”
His grin widened. “So you admit I’m hot.”
You grabbed a throw pillow and chucked it at him. He caught it mid-air, laughing like the arrogant prince he was.
Then he leaned in, voice low. “You know… when you look at me like that, it’s hard for me to stay in the ‘fake boyfriend’ role.”
You rolled your eyes. “Your flirting skills are as real as our relationship.”
“Oh no,” he whispered, stepping closer, “my flirting is 100% real. Just like how your face gets red when I call you pretty.”
You froze. “I do NOT—”
“You do,” he said softly. “I notice everything about you.”
You blinked fast, refusing to melt.
“Fine,” you said with a huff. “But if I’m your fake girlfriend, you better fake act like I’m your world in front of that rich grandpa of yours.”
Charles stepped closer, suddenly lowering his voice.
“And what if I’m not acting? What if I literally want you to be my real girlfriend?” he smirks.
"what do you think?"