Chapter 94: Almost
Timothy’s breath caught as he tumbled forward, his hands instinctively bracing against the soft mattress on either side of Hana’s hips.
Their faces were inches apart just like earlier. Her eyes, hazy from the champagne, locked onto his with an unexpected spark of intent. This is the moment any man would be so vulnerable.
A drunk beautiful lady on the bed with him on top of her.
Hana giggled. "You look so handsome, Mr. Guerrero. You’re...so...close..." No use, she was drunk, he had to pull away from her or this would develop into something...
Just as he shifted to rise, Hana’s hand tightened on his wrist, her other sliding up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing his lower lip with feather-light pressure.
"Don’t," she whispered, her voice a slurred plea laced with something deeper, more raw. Her lips parted, breath warm against his skin, and she tilted her head up, closing the scant distance until their mouths hovered a whisper apart.
"Hana..." he murmured, voice rough, strained with restraint. His hands flexed against the bed, knuckles whitening as he fought the urge to sink into her.
But her eyes, even glazed, held a flicker of clarity, of want that mirrored his own buried desires. The scent of her perfume, the gloss of her lips, wrapping around him like silk.
Then an invincible force seemed to tug him closer, his lips brushing the edge of temptation, and he stopped.
Timothy froze, muscles locking as reason tore through the haze like cold water. This was wrong. Every instinct screamed it. Hana was drunk, barely aware of herself, and he was her boss.
The line between them wasn’t just thin; it was sacred, professional, built on trust he refused to break.
He drew in a shaky breath, his heart still hammering.
Slowly, he pulled back, her hand slipping from his wrist as he sat upright on the edge of the bed. For a second, she blinked up at him in confusion, her lips still parted, her cheeks still flushed.
Then—flick. She let out a small, startled sound as he flicked her forehead gently.
"Oh, what was that for?" she murmured, rubbing the spot with a sleepy pout.
"For trying to test my self-control," Timothy said softly, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "You’re drunk, Hana. I’m not taking advantage of that. Not tonight, not ever."
Her eyes, heavy-lidded, searched his face. "You... don’t want me?" His chest tightened at the innocence of her question.
"That’s not it," he said quietly. "You’re beautiful, Hana. Anyone with a pulse can see that. But this..." he gestured between them "—this can’t start like that. If you ever want something to happen between us... it has to be real. When you’re sober. When you mean it."
She blinked slowly, the words sinking in like soft rain.
"So... you’d only do it if..."
"If we’re in a relationship," he finished for her, his tone firm but gentle.
"Not before. But if I were to be honest, I’d say I would go for you. I mean you are so dependable in many cases, especially in business. Of course, it’s given that you’d excel on a job you signed up for. But I love it when my future partner has that same drive," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Someone who can match my pace. Who doesn’t get intimidated by it."
Hana blinked at him through half-lidded eyes, her expression softening. "Your... future partner?" she murmured, the words slow, deliberate—=,as if tasting their meaning.
He chuckled quietly. "Yeah. Someone who can argue with me, push me, tell me when I’m wrong. Not someone I have to protect from myself."
She smiled faintly, the corners of her mouth curving with that tired sweetness only alcohol could bring out.
"Then... maybe she’s already here," she whispered, voice fading as her eyes fluttered.
Timothy laughed. "If only you could say that when you are sober. And for sure, you would forget what happened by tomorrow morning," he said with a faint smile, shaking his head.
Hana’s lips curved into a small, drowsy grin. "Maybe... maybe not," she murmured, her words blurring together as sleep began to pull her under. "You’d be surprised what I remember..."
"Yeah?" Timothy replied quietly, leaning back a little. "Then I’ll hold you to that, Ms. Seo."
Her only answer was a soft hum as her eyes finally drifted shut, her breathing evening out within moments.
The champagne and exhaustion had claimed her completely this time. Timothy sat there for a while, just watching. There was something oddly peaceful about seeing her like this, no sharp focus in her gaze, no guarded professionalism in her tone.
Just Hana, stripped of her walls, resting in the calm after chaos.
"I almost fell into temptation," Timothy sighed, his voice barely above a whisper.
He ran a hand through his hair, letting the weight of the moment sink in before glancing one last time at Hana.
She was already fast asleep, her chest rising and falling in quiet rhythm, the faintest smile still tugging at her lips.
He straightened his tie, forcing his composure back piece by piece. "You’ll thank me when you wake up," he murmured, half to her, half to himself.
Pulling the door open, he stepped out into the hallway and exhaled deeply, shutting it gently behind him.
The soft click of the lock felt like closing the lid on temptation itself.
By the time he reached the elevator, the hum of music and chatter from below began to grow louder again.
When the doors slid open to the grand ballroom, the warmth of light and sound washed over him. Waiters were still moving through the crowd, topping off glasses; laughter echoed faintly under the fading tunes of the orchestra.
Several guests turned toward him as he appeared before them, his familiar calm presence drawing attention.
"Mr. Guerrero!" one called out. "Incredible speech earlier!" He smiled politely, shaking hands, exchanging brief words of thanks. Hours later, and the crowds were starting to shrink.
He wondered what would happen tomorrow when they saw one another.