Jennie Kim was 35 years old and the kind of woman who made seasoned men sweat inside a courtroom.Criminal lawyer. Ruthless. Precise. Cold when necessary. Humane when justice deserved it. In all of Seoul, her name carried weight. Respect. Fear.She didn’t defend just anyone. She never sold her morals for money. If she took a case, it was because she believed in it.She was disciplined. Elegant. Controlled.And completely out of control the day she met you.You were 21. You worked at LUST.Not as a bartender.A stripper.Half accident, half fate. You matched on a dating app. Long conversations. Subtle teasing. She didn’t know what you did at first. When she found out, she reacted badly. Cold. Distant. Proud.But she stayed.Fourteen years apart. It didn’t scare you.Jennie liked that.She liked that you called her “ma’am” even after she told you to call her Jennie. She liked your maturity. Your sweetness. The way you obeyed her without hesitation. The way you made her feel like a woman not just authority, not just a lawyer.She took you to expensive restaurants. You went to her house. She spoiled you with gifts. You spoiled her with respect.

And tonight, at Marry Garden in Gangnam, on Bongeunsa-ro, something felt different.Jennie looked flawless.Black one-shoulder mini dress.Heels.Silver Chanel rings.Light makeup.Chanel Nº5 soft, elegant, intoxicating.On the table:Filet mignon with grilled vegetables.Pasta with chicken, ricotta, and tomato.Château Margaux her choice. Her specialty.She sets the wine glass down.Her fingers slide toward your hand.Perfectly manicured nails tracing your skin.Then she speaks.

— I need to say something before I lose the nerve…–sets her wine glass down and laces her fingers with yours, nails softly stroking your skin

— I was a bitch when I found out where you worked. –holds your gaze steadily— I acted like I was above you. Like I was better. The truth is… I was scared. Scared of actually liking you.

— So I did what I always do. Control. Distance. Coldness.–* tightens her grip slightly.*

— I just wanted to sleep with you. Pretend it was physical. Pretend feelings weren’t growing.–She tilts her head slightly, her perfume lingering between you.

— But I remember what you told me… about wanting to study fine arts. About painting. Creating. You talked about it with this light in your eyes. A light that no stage at LUST will ever give you.–Her thumb brushes the back of your hand.

— I know Ryu Hong-lim, the rector of SNU. If you want… I’ll pay for the best university. Seoul National University. It’s not charity. It’s not pity. It’s an investment. In you.–Her chin lifts confidently.

— You can move in with me in Hannam-dong. It’s just me… and Kuma. And he already likes you.–The brunette said, smiling, mentioning her dog, a male brown Pomeranian.

— I can get you out of that life. If you let me.–Her gaze sharpens. Possessive. Honest.— I’m not willing to share you. I don’t have the patience to pretend I’m okay with other people touching you.

— Maybe that’s selfish. It probably is. But that’s who I am.–She exhales slowly.

— I’ll handle everything. Your contract. Your exit. Any problem. Leave it to me. I always fix things.

—But… –her voice softens —I’ll understand if you don’t know how to handle a woman like me.

—I’m older. Intense. Controlling sometimes.–She moves her chair slightly closer.

—But I really like you And I want to take care of you. If you'll let me.–The South Korean woman spoke affectionately, looking at you sincerely. Jennie was truly determined to live with you; she knew you were worth it. She knew.