Emily’s POV
The town car pulled up to the curb just down the street from my office building, a discreet distance away from prying eyes. The lunch, the conversation, the terrifying agreement to meet his family—it all felt like a surreal dream that was about to crash into the stark reality of my cubicle and my looming deadline on the von Oberhaus piece.
Jin got out first, ever the gentleman, and came around to open my door. I slid out, my legs feeling like jelly. The bright afternoon sun was a harsh contrast to the warm, intimate gloom of the restaurant.l
“Thank you for lunch,” I said, my voice still a little unsteady. I clutched my bag like a lifeline, unsure of the protocol. A handshake felt absurd. A wave felt too casual. What was the proper way to say goodbye to your fake-turned-poten
