Pregnant for the straight CEO Chapter 9

Yu jin’s POV

I woke up with my face pressed into the wrong side of the pillow and the wrong side of life. My head felt thick, my throat dry, and my phone was vibrating against my cheek like a tiny bug.

One unread ssage. Then another.

Park Min: Bring sober dicine.

Park Min: I really...want to apologize. I don’t like n, I never ant any of what happened.

I read that second line twice, maybe three tis. "I don’t like n." Yeah, no kidding. Tell that to the baby who looks like you every ti he frowns. I stared at the words until my chest tightened. I should’ve laughed yet I didn’t.

I threw the phone aside and buried my face under the pillow. I wanted to scream into it, maybe suffocate a little. He still didn’t know. Five years later, he still didn’t know what his drunk night did to .

For ten minutes, I argued with myself. I wasn’t his nanny. He could buy his own damn dicine. But then my brain reminded of my paycheck and how revenge, and sohow my legs moved before my pride caught up.

So yeah, I found myself standing at the pharmacy in my old hoodie, buying hangover dicine for a man who once ruined my life and then promoted .

By the ti I got to his apartnt, my anger had cooled into that low, steady kind that sits behind your ribs and waits for the next stupid thing to happen. The elevator doors opened, and there it was his expensive, sterile penthouse.

The door was half open. I knocked anyway.

"Sir?"

No answer.

I stepped inside and the place looked like a tornado had quit halfway through. His jacket was on the floor, glass on the coffee table, tie hanging from the lamp. And on the couch Park Min.

He looked miserable. Hair ssy, shirt fully open, eyes squinting like the light had personally offended him.

When he saw , he groaned. "You actually ca."

"Yeah, lucky you sir," I said, putting the bag down. "dicine, water, regret *I murmured regret slightly* all delivered free of charge."

He tried to sit up but failed halfway, letting his head drop back. "I feel like I got hit by my own company’s stock prices."

"You probably deserve it."

He looked at then, really looked, like he was trying to find sothing in my face he couldn’t na. For a second, I felt my chest twist. Then he winced again, ruining the mont.

"Co on," I sighed, walking over. "Get up. You need to clean up before you start slling like an abandoned bar."

He muttered sothing that sounded suspiciously like bosses shouldn’t need babysitters, but he didn’t resist when I helped him up. His arm fell over my shoulder, heavier than I ever rembered. His body was warm and my heartbeat didn’t get the mo that this was supposed to be professional.

In the bathroom, steam was already fogging the mirror from the hot water I’d turned on. The space slled like mint soap and leftover whiskey.

He sat on the closed toilet lid while I looked for a towel. "You know," he said, voice rough, "you don’t have to do this."

"Oh, believe , I know," I said. "But soone has to make sure you don’t drown in your own sink."

"Touching," he said, grinning weakly.

"Annoying," I shot back.

He laughed, and the sound bounced off the tiles. I rolled my eyes.

"Alright, stand up," I said. "You can wash yourself, right?"

He blinked at , pretending to think. "Maybe. You should supervise."

I narrowed my eyes. "Supervise? You think this is a company audit?"

He shrugged, smile lopsided. "Depends. Are there penalties if I underperform?"

"Put your pants down," I snapped before I could stop myself, my face heating up and I turned while slightly looking, I an I had seen most but...

He burst out laughing, bending over like that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

Still laughing, he started unbuttoning his shirt. I turned away so fast I nearly hit my head on the wall. The sound of fabric sliding off skin did things to my self-control I wasn’t ready to discuss.

"Relax," he said, voice low now. "You sound like you’ve never seen a man before."

"Not naked and half sober, no."

He snorted and stepped into the shower. I stood by the sink, arms crossed, trying to stare at the toothpaste like it was the most fascinating thing in the universe.

Water hit the tiles. Then a soft groan. "Too hot," he muttered.

"Then turn it down," I said.

He didn’t answer. Just another groan, this ti softer. I could tell when the heat started to work through his headache because his breathing slowed.

Against my better judgnt, I looked. Just a glance. Steam everywhere. His outline blurred, but my imagination filled the gaps faster than I could stop it.

My heart kicked hard in my chest. I turned back around so fast my neck cracked.

A few minutes later he called, "Hey, assistant of the year, hand a towel?"

I grabbed it from the rack and held it out without turning.

"You can turn around now," he said. "We’re both straight n. Right?"

"What the actual hell?" I muttered and I just nodded my head trying not to show the veins that were already forming at the corners of my head from the anger and half embarrassnt.

I did, reluctantly. He had the towel wrapped around his waist, hair dripping, water running down his chest. He looked alive again, annoyingly good for soone who’d spent the night poisoning himself.

"You can get dressed," I muttered. "Your clothes are over there."

He pulled his shirt on slowly, watching the whole ti.

When he was dressed, he walked out to the living room and collapsed on the couch, still towel-drying his hair. I brought him the dicine and water.

He took it, swallowed, then sighed. "Thanks."

I sat across from him, trying not to notice how dostic this looked. "You should eat sothing later," I said.

"You sound like my mom."

I looked away. " Forget it."

For a while, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the quiet ticking of the wall clock. It was strange being here his private space, not the office, not the hotel. Here, he looked smaller sohow, less perfect.

He cleared his throat. "About last night... I ant what I said. I don’t rember much, but I didn’t an to cross a line."

"You didn’t cross a line," I said quickly. "You crashed through it with a truck."

He winced. "Yeah. That tracks."

"And then you texted you don’t like n. Which, you know, thanks for clarifying. I was really losing sleep over that."

He looked at quietly, no smirk this ti. "I didn’t an it like that. I just needed to say sothing."

I stood, ready to leave. "You’ll be fine once the dicine kicks in. Try not to drink again if you can’t handle it."

"Don’t go yet."

"Why?"

He hesitated. "I just... I don’t like being alone when I feel like this." was what I at least expected him to say.

"I’m hungry" that was what he said.

And that’s when the doorbell rang. Once. Then twice.

Park Min frowned. "I wasn’t expecting anyone."

"Did you call for delivery?" he asked.

"No I didn’t."

The third ring was louder, longer, almost urgent.

I started to get up, but he stopped . "Don’t," he said, voice low. And when he opened...