Emily’s POV
This is not how I expected my evening to go.
Sitting in a restaurant with Jin and Ilay was a special kind of surreal torture. We were at a secluded corner table, the air thick enough to be carved with a knife. Ilay looked amused, swirling his wine with a faint, predatory smile. Jin looked like he was presiding over his own execution, his jaw clenched so tight I feared for his molars.
It had happened in a blur after Jin’s knock on the window. Ilay, to my astonishment, had simply chuckled and rolled the window down.
“Baek,” Ilay had said, his tone dripping with false bonhomie. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Jin’s gaze had sliced past him, landing directly on me. “Get out of the car, Emily.”
“I don’t think so,” I’d retorted, my voice shaky.
“Then I’ll get in.” And before
