TCBW C40

Chapter 40

“Something to say to him? Hah… We’ve never cleaned here when the president’s been in the building, and now you’re sending him knowing he’s here? What, and now you’re saying the president asked for him? How does that make any sense?”

“Seo‑jun, cut it. Get to work.”

Gyubeom’s look told him not to say another word.

Suhoe had no idea why only he’d been summoned, but left the department with a pouting Seo‑jun in tow — the younger man hadn’t dared argue further with Gyubeom.

“Damn…”

The moment they were in the hall, Seo‑jun muttered under his breath.

Assuming it was just worry talking, Suhoe tried to reassure him.

“Jun‑ah, I can handle things now. I’ve learned a lot since I came here.”

“It’s not about the work…”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just… what if that guy gives you a hard time?”

Give me a hard time? By Dowoon?

“That won’t happen.”

Even so, Seo‑jun stayed uneasy.

“If something does happen, come straight down. You know I’ll be in the lobby today.”

“I told you, it won’t happen.”

Of course, there was another possibility — that this would be the end of his job and that he’d be confined at home for good. That was what truly frightened Suhoe.

Knock knock.

Reaching Dowoon’s office by elevator, Suhoe tapped on the door. Hae‑eon — who had accompanied Dowoon on his business trip — opened it; it had been some time since they’d seen each other.

“Madam!”

“Hae‑eon‑ssi!”

They greeted each other warmly. Hae‑eon gestured him inside, where Dowoon, just back from a meeting, was seated — already absorbed in clearing the work that had piled up while he was away, not even glancing at his spouse.

“Have you been well?”

“Mm.”

Even when Suhoe asked brightly, the answer was curt.

Seeing this, Hae‑eon motioned toward the sofa in front of the desk, telling him to sit — but Suhoe hesitated, declining.

“I should get to work…”

“Yes! Of course~ we understand.”

The truth was that Hae‑eon had already had an outside crew clean the office to perfection, so there was nothing for Suhoe to do. But he couldn’t tell the boss’s spouse that — with his temperament, he’d only take it badly.

“Still, why don’t you have some tea first? You won’t be late starting.”

But Suhoe insisted, cleaning tools in hand.

Unsettled by the sight, Hae‑eon fussed — after all, whatever else he was, Suhoe was the president’s husband. Watching the boss’s spouse labor was uncomfortable.

“Madam—”

But Suhoe was already setting to work.

Then came Dowoon’s voice from behind his desk:

“Let him.”

The tone was relaxed, unhurried.

So Hae‑eon sat down, still keeping an eye on Suhoe as he worked quickly and methodically, opening windows and wiping surfaces that had no dust at all — maybe even little nooks normally left alone.

It was an opportunity — to show himself working hard, to silently plead, See, I’m useful to this company; don’t make me quit. The fear of being shut in at home pushed his hands faster.

But Dowoon didn’t look at him once. Even when removing his glasses, it was only to put out a hand to Hae‑eon for the next file.

Disappointed, Hae‑eon passed it over. Figures.

And then — the moment Hae‑eon resigned himself to that thought — Dowoon set the file aside and stood, crossing to the sofa.

“Come here.”

Though he didn’t say a name, the call was clearly meant for Suhoe, who stopped mid‑polish and stepped over.

Seizing the chance to give them privacy, Hae‑eon left. Suhoe stood tense, not knowing what he’d be told.

“How was overseas?”

Breaking the quiet, his voice was bright but careful. The only reply was the sound of a page turning.

“I’ve never been… not even once.”

Even without any answer, he kept talking, trying to read Dowoon’s mood, still uneasy from the last time they’d spoken before the trip — afraid he might suddenly tell him to quit and stay home.

But instead, Dowoon said something entirely different:

“Where do you want to go?”

The face was unreadable, making him unsure whether it was a serious question. But Suhoe seized on the fact that it wasn’t telling him to quit and rushed to answer:

“Mm… it doesn’t have to be abroad. Anywhere with the sea.”

“The sea?”

“Yes. I’ve never seen it. Only heard about it.”

Watching him, Dowoon stretched out a hand. For a moment Suhoe thought it was for more conversation — but it was a silent beckon.

He hesitated, then stepped closer. It was, after all, just the two of them here. Anything might happen.

When he stood before him, Dowoon took his hand in his own.

A jolt — that faint ache in his own fingertips again — but he gave no sign, only tugging the slight body down into his lap.

He began to trace the line of Suhoe’s face with a rough palm. Already fever‑warm, his skin flushed deeper.

Then Dowoon pulled him in hard against his chest.

A… kiss?

But instead, he pressed his face into Suhoe’s chest. Hesitating only a moment, Suhoe brought his own arms around the large frame in his arms.

When those thin arms embraced him, Dowoon closed his eyes and buried his nose against bare skin, breathing deep to catch the faint grass scent dulled by the suppressant.

Breathing in and out, he held him there for a long time — feeling, inexplicably, something within himself becoming sated.

It was strange, seeing him burrow in like a child, but Suhoe didn’t let go.

“I think… I get your scent now. Like the water’s edge on a summer night. But not just the water’s edge…”

But Dowoon’s reply to the romantic observation was far from romantic.

“…Why do you have a fever again?”

It was just a flat check of his condition.

“I—well, this is…”

But before he could finish—

Crash‑bang!

An urgent voice from outside:

“Miss Sara! You can’t — I told you there’s a guest inside!”

Startled, Suhoe sprang up and stepped aside, but Dowoon — irritated at being interrupted — didn’t so much as glance toward the noise, eyes fixed on him still.

A shrill, feminine voice followed, then a woman’s cry, “Dowoon‑ssi!” — and without knocking, the door flew open.

A woman strode in on high heels, taller than him, in a black mini‑dress that clung to her body and dipped low at the chest, moving with the confidence of someone used to being there.

Her wavy hair shimmered around her shoulders, framing striking, exotic features.

And still, even as she entered, Dowoon didn’t take his eyes off his wife.