POV: Seraphina Lark
It's been four months since filming started, and we're finally wrapping up the movie. I've kept my distance from Rafael, keeping things strictly professional. Whatever childish game he's playing with my feelings, I want no part of it.
All my girlies are off vacationing with their men, and I'm the only one left in this big-ass house. I got ready for the day, took a shower, threw on some casual clothes and light makeup, knowing I'd change at the studio anyway.
The drive to the studio was quiet—just me and my driver. Once we arrived, I went straight to the dressing room, changed outfits, and let my makeup artist work her magic. Within an hour, we were ready to shoot.
Rafael looked annoyingly handsome. Just standing next to him had my body reacting in ways I didn't authorize. I tried to stay focused, but his gaze made my blood heat. The scenes went smoothly... until we got to the bed scene. That's when things got complicated.
It didn't feel like acting. It felt real. Too real. The director applauded our performance but still complained about lack of chemistry. Like, sir, are you blind? But whatever—we wrapped for the day.
I was about to leave when Rafael asked if I wanted to rehearse the scene in private. I said yes. Maybe I was being foolish, but I followed him to his house.
His place? Gorgeous. The exterior? Architectural porn. The interior? Pure luxury. He offered me wine, and 30 minutes later we were on his couch… him towering over me, my breath uneven, and this tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife.
We were supposed to be rehearsing—but it stopped feeling like acting. It started feeling like us.
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POV: Rafael Lee
I hovered over her petite body—bare except for her bra and panties. We were "practicing," but I couldn't stop. My lips trailed down her body, hunger pulsing through every nerve. She moaned my name, responded to every touch, and I knew—I knew—this wasn't about a movie anymore.
I undid her pants, unclasped her bra, took her nipple into my mouth like a man starved, desperate for her. But right before it went further, I stopped. I helped her put her clothes back on.
The look on her face? Hurt. Confused. Maybe angry.
She grabbed her bag and stormed out, and honestly? I deserved it. What kind of man gets a woman worked up only to push her away?
I'm a jerk. A coward.
---
The Next Day
We filmed the final two scenes. Seraphina stayed distant, avoiding my gaze. I caught her laughing with the crew near the door, and God, I love her laugh. I'm starting to notice the smallest things—how she smiles, how she tilts her head, how she lights up when she talks.
But I'm terrified. Kim Soo Yun broke me. And now Seraphina is paying for a wound she didn't cause.
I'm falling for her. I'm obsessed, and I don't know if I can stop.
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POV: Seraphina Lark
Three days later, shooting was officially done, and we were moving into the promotion phase. New faces. New energy.
I was relaxing in my hot tub, thinking about that night at Rafael's house. The way he touched me, kissed me… then just stopped. Who does that?
I got out of the bath and my manager came in, saying I'd been invited to a private party hosted by one of the movie's sponsors. A celebration for the end of filming.
I got dressed in a sleek ocean-blue bodycon gown, paired it with black heels and statement earrings, styled my hair, and went full glam. My driver took me to the hotel—a five-star beauty and one of the top in Korea.
I entered the VIP section and sat down. Minutes later, commotion erupted. I turned, and there he was—Rafael Lee, breathtaking as ever.
He sat next to me, making it hard to breathe. His every glance set my skin on fire.
Then she walked in. Stunning. Confident. And the moment Rafael saw her, he tensed. Cold. Distant.
She walked up, pecked his cheek, and called him Oppa in that annoying flirty tone. She kept saying she missed him.
Turns out, she's part of the PR executive team for the movie promotion... and she's Rafael's ex.
He excused himself and disappeared.
I tried to brush it off. I wasn't going to let him ruin my night. So I drank. A lot. More than I normally would. By the end of the night, I was drunk and stumbling toward my hotel room.
Or so I thought...