I’m trying to blend into the wallpaper—which, upon closer inspection, is actual hand-painted silk and probably costs more than my mom's entire art collection—when Donghwa’s mother finally pulls back from her son. She wipes a smudge of lipstickoff his cheek with her thumb, beaming, before her gaze drifts past his shoulder and lands squarely on me.
I freeze. This is it. The assessment.
"Oh," she says, blinking her long, elegant lashes. She tilts her head, her smile dimming just a fraction into polite curiosity. "And you’ve brought a guest? I didn't realize we were entertaining."
I open my mouth to apologize, to explain that I’m just the ride, or the baggage handler, or whatever excuse will get me out of here with my dignity intact, but the sisters beat me to it.
"He’s not a guest, Mom!" Dohwa chirps, practically humming with glee.
"He’s amate," Dohwi finishes, grabbing Donghwa’s arm and shaking it. "Donghwa bonded him! Look! He brought home a bonded mate!"
The silence that falls over the foyer is absolute.
Both parents freeze. They turn in unison, staring at me with wide, unblinking eyes. It’s like being in the spotlight of a police interrogation, except the cops are wearing bespoke loungewear.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, sweating through my cashmere. My mother’s voice screams in my head:Manners, Sihwan! Don't just stand there like a slack-jawed idiot!
I snap into motion. I drop my bag and bow—a deep, ninety-degree fold at the waist, hands stiff at my sides.
"It is an honor to meet you," I say, my voice coming out a little strangled. "I am Oh Sihwan, from the Visual Design department. I apologize for the intrusion on such short notice."
I stay bowed, staring at the polished floorboards, waiting for the verdict. I’m waiting for the "Oh." The disappointed sigh. The polite but chilly dismissal because I’m not from one of the Five Families or whatever secret club they belong to.
"Really?" Donghwa’s mother breathes.
"Yeah," Donghwa’s voice answers, sounding bored but undeniably fond. "Really."
"Oh!"
I hear the rustle of silk, and then, before I can even straighten up, I’m being assaulted.
"Oh, how wonderful!"
She doesn't shake my hand. She doesn't nod politely. She steps right into my personal space and wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a hug that smells like expensive jasmine and maternal warmth.
I go rigid. My arms flail uselessly at my sides like a broken wind-up toy. My own mother hasn't hugged me since I was six, and even then, it was usually for a photo op. This woman is hugging me like I just returned from war.
"Welcome to the family, darling," she coos, patting my back with a gentle, rhythmic hand. "Oh, look at you. You’re shaking! Don't be nervous. We don't bite. Well—" She pulls back, keeping her hands firmly on my shoulders, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Donghwa bites, obviously. But the rest of us are very civilized."
I blink rapidly, my brain misfiring. "I—uh—thank you? Ma'am?"
She laughs, a bright, bell-like sound, and cups my cheek with a warm hand. She tilts my face this way and that, examining me like I’m a piece of fine china she’s delighted to find in her cabinet.
"My, what a handsome young man," she declares, beaming. "Look at those eyes. And such good skin! Donghwa, you have excellent taste."
"I know," Donghwa says from somewhere to my left. I can hear the smirk in his voice.
A heavy hand claps onto my shoulder, nearly making me jump out of my skin again. I look over to see Donghwa’s father standing there, grinning from ear to ear.
"About time," the older man booms, shaking his head. "I was starting to think our youngest was going to cling to bachelorhood forever. Thought he was married to that motorcycle of his."
He looks me up and down, not with the critical, calculating eye of my father—checking for weakness, checking for value—but with genuine interest. He sniffs the air slightly, his eyebrows going up.
"Alpha?" he asks.
My stomach drops. Here it comes. The hierarchy check.
"Yes, sir," I say, bracing myself. "Dominant Alpha."
