I’ll think about it.
I flip my phone over and meet Aaron’s gaze. The wine tasting becomes a playful duel of palates and banter. He swirls his glass, inhales, and declares with mock drama and an eyebrow arched in challenge, “Notes of dark cherry.” I sip slowly, letting the wine linger before replying, “Heavy on plum skin, with a finish that promises regret tomorrow.” His laughter rings out, turning heads. Something stirs low in my belly—equal parts affection and want.
The wine hits me quicker than I’d like to admit. The charcuterie board arrives—jamón sliced paper-thin, honeycomb glistening, cheeses with names that sound like French villages. Aaron pinches a wedge, leans in, and promptly drops it on the tablecloth. I snort, unable to help myself. He just grins, dimples deepening, and pops it into his mouth without hesitation. The server brings a fifth pour, something rare from the reserve. “For luck.” I know he’s just pushing the envelope, as always.
Between sips, our conversation slips into childhood—not the polished stories, but the odd, vivid memories that made us. I admit to skipping school for a disastrous K-pop audition. He confesses to stealing books from the orphanage’s library,desperate to own something in a world where nothing was his. Our stories weave together in the golden light until the world narrows to this: his voice, my laughter, and the warmth blooming inside me.
After a few minutes, he excuses himself from the table. I watch him weave through the tiled path toward the fancy bathrooms, hands in his pockets, body language finally loose. When the glass doors close behind him, I exhale for the first time in ages. My heart buzzes. It’s like the moment after a roller coaster lets you go—it surprises you, how much you craved the drop.
My phone pings, and I’m reluctant to look, but Aaron isn’t at the table, so it should be fine.
Aaron
Grab your things and come inside. I was able to finesse us a private room.
Aaron
Never mind, I’m coming back for you. I don’t need you stumbling with all that wine you had lol.
He reappears from the main atrium, a little flushed, carrying a breath of fresh air with him. “Minji Lee, your chariot awaits,” he announces, hand extended. I laugh—awkward and surprised at first, but it softens as my fingers slip into his. The staff nods as we pass, but I can’t help noticing how their eyes linger. Maybe it’s the city-girl-in-Napa effect, or maybe Aaron’s right and we just look like people who wear their old heartbreaks like badges.
The private room is just as I imagined, tucked away at the back of the winery with no windows. Inside, it’s beautiful and softly lit, old cinderblock walls lined with wine bottles sorted by year and region. A sturdy oak table waits for just the two of us.The air is cool, the concrete floor echoing our footsteps as Aaron pulls out my chair.
“I took the liberty of ordering us an early dinner, and once dinner arrives, we won’t be disturbed until I open that door.” He smiles and those dimples are on full display.
Oh.
My heart skids in my chest, fully aware of what ‘undisturbed’ means with Aaron. I sink lower in my chair, giddy and restless, twisting my napkin as the staff delivers a dazzling spread. Perfectly rare steak with seared shallots, vivid greens, and crispy potatoes. But it’s the glasses of ruby cabernet that hold my gaze—three for each of us, flighted and numbered on a tiny card. Aaron watches me as I take small sips. He’s tempting me with the sweetest kind of poison.
And I’m ready to let him.
He watches me with a hunger that dares me to look away first. I don’t. Instead, I swirl the last of my wine and bring it to my lips, slowly. “You know this is all a seduction, right?” I flirt, matching his energy.
Aaron nods, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Is it working?”
I put the glass down and push my chair back, bracing both hands on the iron-studded edge of the table. The world tilts just enough. “Let’s find out.”
CHAPTER 32
AARON
Minji staresat me with an intent that practically vibrates across the table. I can practically feel the heat off her, even from a few feet away. Her breath is steadier than mine, and it infuriates me how she can look so composed while I’m fighting the urge to crawl across this table and taste the wine off her mouth.
“So.” She drawls out the word as she drags her fingertip around the rim of her wineglass. “Are you going to kiss me, or just keep staring?”
I keep staring, testing how long she’ll let the tension coil between us. Minji’s eyes never waver, and a grin tugs at my lips. “Art like this shouldn’t be rushed.”
She rolls her eyes, but her smile softens. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you love it.”
Her foot glides up my calf beneath the table, slow and intentional. I almost jump, but steady myself with a breath. “Maybe I do,” she murmurs. “Maybe I hate how much I do.”
A laugh escapes me, but she silences it with a single look. Candlelight crowns her hair in gold, every stray strand a halo Iache to ruin. I want to tangle my fingers in that shine, to see her wild and breathless, her mouth tangled with mine.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” I ask because I need to hear her say it. I need confirmation that this isn’t just a fever dream, that I’m not misreading the moment because I want it too much.
She sets her glass down and leans forward, her eyes almost black in the dim light. “I want you,” Minji whimpers and the words land with a gravity that makes my throat go dry.
