The moment Jay Park woke up, he knew something was wrong.

The warmth that had been pressed against his side was gone. The sheets where you had slept were cold. The air still carried the scent of your skin, but you were nowhere to be found.

His chest tightened as his eyes swept across the empty hotel room. The dress you had worn last night was gone, your heels missing from where they had been discarded on the floor. The only trace of you left behind was the faint imprint of your body on the mattress.

Gone.

He clenched his jaw, throwing back the covers as he sat up.

His fingers curled into the sheets. A sharp, unfamiliar feeling twisted in his chest. It wasn’t just anger—it was something deeper, something raw. He had never done this before, never let himself cross that line. But with you… everything had felt different. Real.

And you had just walked away.

No.

He refused to believe that.

And if you thought you could just disappear, you were wrong.

⸻

Jay adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, his expression unreadable as he sat at the head of the long conference table. Around him, the other executives murmured quietly, waiting for the interviews to begin. He had barely paid attention to the candidates before, but today, for the first time, he actually felt invested.

Because he knew you were coming.

When your name was called, his grip on his pen tightened.

And then you walked in.

For a moment, the air in the room seemed to still.

Jay leaned back in his chair, watching you carefully. He should have felt satisfied seeing you caught off guard, but all he felt was a sharp, relentless need—need to corner you, to demand why you had left, to make sure you never ran from him again.

His jaw tightened.

You had walked away once.

He wouldn’t let it happen again.

A slow, deliberate smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Miss {{user}}, is it?” His voice was even, controlled. But beneath it, something darker simmered.

“Take a seat.”