Only You

Chapter 6: “A Woman Like No Other”

It had been two weeks since they agreed to the ridiculous arrangement, fake fiancées.

Two weeks of bickering, fake smiles in front of clients, and stolen glances that neither of them wanted to admit were starting to feel too real.

Now, they were standing in front of the check-in counter of a five-star hotel in a different city for a two-day business trip. Olivia tugged her small suitcase behind her and glanced around the elegant lobby, impressed despite herself.

“This place is…” she murmured, tilting her head to admire the crystal chandelier.

“Classy. Expensive. Like me,” Karl interrupted smugly, sunglasses still on indoors.

She rolled her eyes. “Like you? Please.”

He smirked and handed their IDs to the receptionist. “Reservation for Karl Johnson.”

“Yes, sir. One executive suite. Room 1907.”

Olivia blinked. “Wait. One?”

She turned to him sharply. “What do you mean one suite? Where’s my room?”

Karl didn’t look at her. “It’s a suite. It has a couch. It’s not like I’m asking you to sleep in the hallway.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You booked one room on purpose!”

His smile was infuriating. “Why would I waste company money when we’re supposed to be engaged?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are.”

She muttered under her breath as she followed him to the elevator.

Inside the suite…

Olivia scanned the luxurious space. Marble floors. Velvet furnishings. A balcony with a city view. And… one king-sized bed.

She turned to him slowly. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Karl dropped his suitcase lazily on the couch and loosened his tie. “I’ll sleep on the couch if it makes you feel better, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

“I’m not the one who booked a single room on purpose just to be a jerk.”

He smirked. “You’d rather I sleep in the hallway?”

She groaned, rubbing her temples. “No. I’d rather we stayed in separate hotels, if I had known.”

“You didn’t ask,” he said, unbuttoning the top of his shirt casually. “Maybe you were hoping I’d try something.”

She snorted. “In your dreams, Karl.”

He looked at her, his voice low and teasing. “Oh, sweetheart… you have no idea what’s in my dreams.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she turned away. “Ugh. You’re impossible.”

“And yet you agreed to this.”

“Only because I was desperate, remember?”

Karl watched her as she kicked off her heels and crossed her arms in front of the window, the city lights casting a glow on her face. Her hair was slightly messy from travel, her lips pursed in frustration, and yet… he couldn’t look away.

She was different. Unpolished. Honest. And it annoyed him how much he noticed.

“I’ll be in the shower,” she muttered, grabbing her sleepwear from her bag and disappearing into the bathroom.

As soon as the door shut, Karl let out a breath and loosened the rest of his shirt.

“This trip is going to kill me,” he muttered.

Later that night…

Olivia emerged from the bathroom wearing an oversized T-shirt and pajama shorts, hair tied up in a loose bun. Karl was on the couch, scrolling his phone, shirtless, wearing only joggers.

Her eyes involuntarily dropped to his chest for a split second—sculpted, tan, and infuriatingly perfect.

He caught her looking.

“See something you like?” he teased without looking up.

“I’ve seen better,” she said, walking to the bed.

“Liar.”

She turned off the lamp on her side and lay down, turning her back to him. “Don’t even think of sneaking into bed.”

“No promises,” he said with a lazy grin. “I might get cold.”

“You touch me and I swear I’ll throw you off the balcony.”

“Fiery. I like that.”

“Shut up, Karl.”

“Goodnight, fiancée.”

She didn’t answer, just pulled the blanket tighter over herself.

But as the night fell deeper and silence wrapped around them, neither of them slept easily. Not with thoughts of each other and the spark they both refused to admit was growing.

The next morning, Olivia adjusted the collar of her blouse in front of the hotel room mirror, her brows furrowed in irritation. Behind her, Karl casually buttoned his crisp shirt, completely unfazed.

“Can you not stare like that?” she snapped when she caught his reflection watching her.

“I wasn’t staring,” he replied coolly, though a smirk played on his lips. “Just admiring how surprisingly professional you look when you’re not scowling.”

She rolled her eyes. “I scowl because you’re always asking for it.”

He chuckled and grabbed his suit jacket. “You ready, fiancée?”

“Don’t start.”

Later, at the client’s office…

The meeting was set at a modern high-rise building just across from the hospital Karl had invested in. As the elevator doors opened, Karl placed a hand on her lower back and guided her forward like a gentleman—which only made Olivia more suspicious.

“Karl, don’t start acting all… possessive. This is business.”

He leaned down slightly, his voice teasing. “It’s called acting. Remember? Fake engagement.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“You make it easy.”

Before she could reply, the door opened and the receptionist gestured for them to enter the meeting room.

Inside, three men in suits stood to greet them. Karl’s presence was magnetic, his handshake firm, his smile polite yet powerful.

“Gentlemen,” Karl said smoothly, “this is my fiancée, Olivia Benson.”

Olivia opened her mouth to correct him, but Karl was already reaching for her hand and lacing his fingers with hers.

Her eyes shot to his.

He squeezed gently.

Pretend, his eyes reminded her.

She forced a smile and nodded at the clients. “Nice to meet you.”

They all took their seats, but Karl kept her hand for a moment longer than necessary. She leaned closer and hissed, “You can let go now.”

His voice was low, almost a whisper. “You’re doing great.”

She glared. “You’re annoying.”

He grinned and finally released her hand.

The meeting went on with presentations, discussions about partnership models, and strategies for merging resources between the Johnson Group and the client’s hospital. Olivia was quiet for the most part, observing, learning… trying to ignore the heat in her palm where Karl had held her.

But she noticed it—every now and then, Karl’s gaze would drift to her. Not just as part of the act. But something… else.

And she hated how her chest fluttered every time he did.

When the meeting ended, one of the clients walked with them to the elevator, smiling at Olivia.

“You two make quite the couple. How long have you been engaged?”

Before Olivia could answer, Karl slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her slightly closer.

“Two months,” he said smoothly. “I’m a lucky man.”

The elevator doors opened. As they stepped inside, Olivia elbowed him subtly.

“What was that?”

“Convincing performance, wasn’t it?” he said, eyes forward.

She turned her face toward him, annoyed but flushed. “You don’t need to keep touching me like that.”

He looked at her then, gaze lingering for a second too long. “You really hate it that much?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t know how to answer.

The cozy Korean restaurant was tucked between two tall buildings, the windows slightly fogged from the sizzling grills inside. Olivia sat across from Karl at a corner booth, the table already laid out with raw cuts of marinated meat, dipping sauces, and banchan side dishes.

She rolled up her sleeves and immediately began cooking the meat over the hot grill with practiced ease. Her eyes sparkled as the aroma hit her, and without wasting time, she picked up a perfectly seared piece and wrapped it in lettuce, adding garlic and sauce before shoving it into her mouth with a satisfied sigh.

Karl watched her, amused and half in disbelief.

“You do realize you’re eating like it’s your last meal,” he remarked, arching a brow.

Olivia didn’t even pause. She simply glared at him mid-chew.

He leaned back, lips twitching. “You’re going to scare the waiter if you keep inhaling the pork belly like that.”

She swallowed and gave him a sharp look. “If you’re going to keep talking, at least grill something useful.”

“I’m not your servant.”

“No,” she said, turning the meat with her chopsticks. “Just my fake fiancé.”

He smirked, picking up his chopsticks. “Touché.”

A few minutes passed in silence well, except for the sizzling meat and the occasional hum Olivia made every time she took a bite. Karl shook his head and muttered under his breath, “Unbelievable…”

Then, without warning, he reached over with his chopsticks, picked up a perfectly grilled piece of beef, and gently placed it on top of her rice.

Olivia froze.

Her eyes slowly lifted to his face.

He didn’t look at her, just kept eating like it was no big deal.

She blinked. “What… was that?”

He looked up innocently. “You like beef, don’t you?”

She stared at him for a beat longer, her heart doing something stupid inside her chest. He could be an arrogant jerk most of the time, but sometimes, just sometimes… he did something so unexpectedly soft it threw her off.

She cleared her throat and went back to eating. “Don’t try to act all sweet now. Doesn’t suit you.”

“I can be sweet,” he said, grinning.

“You? Sweet? Please.”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing on her. “You’ve been staring at me for five minutes straight, country girl. Don’t tell me you’re falling for me.”

Olivia choked on her lettuce wrap and reached for her water.

He laughed. “I knew it.”

She slammed her glass down. “Don’t flatter yourself, Karl.”

“Oh come on,” he teased. “You’re thinking about last night, aren’t you? That moment in the elevator when you didn’t pull your hand away.”

“That was for pretend, idiot.”

“But your cheeks were red.”

“I was angry.”

“You were flustered.”

“I was annoyed!”

He smirked and leaned across the table, lowering his voice. “Admit it, Olivia. You like me just a little.”

She leaned closer too, eyes blazing. “The day I like you is the day pigs fly.”

Karl chuckled and sat back, satisfied. “We’ll see.”

She huffed and went back to eating but the truth was, the piece of beef he gave her still sat untouched on her rice. Because for some stupid reason, her heart was still stuck on that moment.

The party venue sparkled with crystal chandeliers and soft jazz echoing off the marbled walls. Waiters in black suits carried silver trays with champagne flutes while laughter and soft chatter filled the air.

Karl stood at the entrance in a sharp black suit, polished shoes glinting, and his jaw set like always. Yet his usual cool exterior wavered the moment he turned to see Olivia walking toward him.

She wore a sleeveless black satin dress that clung to her curves effortlessly. Her wavy hair cascaded down her shoulders, her lips painted in a subtle shade of rose, and her eyes lined in soft smoky tones. She didn’t try too hard, she didn’t need to.

For a second, Karl’s breath caught.

He blinked, pretending to adjust his cufflinks, trying to shake the feeling crawling up his chest. He reminded himself: This is pretend. Just an act. That’s all.

“You're staring,” Olivia murmured as she reached him, not bothering to look at him while smoothing the hem of her dress.

He cleared his throat. “You're just overdressed for a fake fiancée.”

She shot him a smirk. “You booked one hotel room and forced me to pretend I’m in love with you in front of your clients. The least I can do is look like your trophy.”

He chuckled under his breath. “You look better than any trophy I've ever had.”

She paused, lips parting slightly but before she could react, he stepped ahead and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

They entered together, blending into the glittering crowd. Karl mingled effortlessly, introducing Olivia as his fiancée to each important guest. She played her role perfectly smiling when needed, laughing at jokes, even leaning into him when the occasion called for it. It almost looked real.

Then, like a gust of wind disrupting calm waters, she appeared.

“Karl?”

The familiar, sultry voice made Karl stiffen.

He turned. “Laura.”

Laura wore a shimmering red dress that hugged her like a second skin. Her golden hair curled perfectly, and her lips painted blood red curled into a sweet smile, one Karl no longer trusted.

“It's been a while,” she said softly before her eyes drifted to Olivia. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your... guest?”

Karl hesitated for a beat too long. Then his hand instinctively found Olivia’s waist.

“This is Olivia,” he said. “My fiancée.”

Laura’s brow lifted in subtle surprise. “Fiancée?” Then she turned to Olivia with an outstretched hand. “I’m Laura. Karl’s ex-girlfriend.”

Olivia’s expression didn’t change much. She gave a polite smile, shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Laura tilted her head. “You’re very pretty. Karl always had a taste for beautiful girls, though not all of them stuck around for long.”

Karl’s jaw tightened. “Excuse us.”

Without another word, he grabbed Olivia’s hand and gently but firmly led her away from the crowd, away from Laura’s poison-laced voice.

As they reached a quieter corner near the bar, he finally let go of her hand.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered.

She looked up at him. “That was your ex?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes flicked toward where Laura still stood, watching them with a smirk that crawled under his skin. “Yeah. That’s her.”

“She’s... a piece of work.”

Karl huffed. “She’s dangerous.”

Olivia crossed her arms. “Is that why you looked so uncomfortable? Or was it the fact that she made me sound like one of your one-night girls?”

Karl’s gaze snapped to her, sharp.

“That’s not what you are.”

“No?” she asked softly. “Because sometimes, with the way you talk to me… it’s hard to tell.”

There was silence between them. The music, the laughter, the noise, it all seemed to fade.

Karl took a step closer, his voice low. “You’re not like them, Olivia. I never brought any of them to a party. I never introduced them to clients. I never called any of them my fiancée, even if it's just pretend.”

She looked into his eyes, something stirring in her chest. Confusion. Curiosity. A hint of something more.

“But it’s all still pretend, right?” she whispered.

He opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out.

Because he didn’t know anymore.

After the party, the air between them felt heavier than before, charged with something neither of them dared to name.

The elevator ride back to the hotel was silent. Karl kept his hands in his pockets, jaw tense, while Olivia stared ahead, arms folded.

As they stepped off the elevator, Olivia started walking ahead toward their room. But Karl’s sharp eyes caught a familiar figure lingering near the pool, by the glowing water under soft moonlight.

Laura.

He cursed under his breath. Her persistence was exhausting. And she was clearly waiting.

Without thinking, he grabbed Olivia’s wrist.

“Hey! what the hell—” she spun around, eyes widening when he suddenly yanked her close.

Before she could resist, his hand slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

“Karl? what are you—?!”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he kissed her.

Olivia’s eyes widened in shock as his lips claimed hers, hot, sudden, and possessive. Her hands instinctively pressed against his chest, pushing him, but he only deepened the kiss.

His heart thundered. The feel of her lips was nothing like he imagined, she tasted like wine and fire, and for a moment, he forgot it was all just an act.

Far off, Laura froze in place. Her smirk faded as she turned and walked away without a word.

Only when Karl was sure Laura was gone did he break the kiss.

Olivia stood there, breathless, her lips tingling. Her eyes, however, burned with fury.

“You—you jerk!” she shouted, slapping him across the face. Hard.

His head turned slightly from the impact, but he didn’t flinch.

“Are you crazy? What the hell was that?! You can't just kiss me like that for your sick little game!”

Karl didn’t respond immediately. His face was unreadable, though his cheek stung.

But Olivia kept ranting. “Don’t ever do that again! You think this is some joke? That you can—”

He had enough.

In one quick motion, he scooped her up like she weighed nothing.

“Karl! What are you doing?! Put me down!”

He didn’t listen.

Instead, he marched toward the pool, ignored her kicking and screaming, and with zero hesitation—

Splash!

Olivia broke the surface gasping, hair plastered to her face, dress clinging to her body.

“KARL JOHNSON, YOU—YOU—PSYCHOPATH!”

He stood on the edge, arms crossed, watching her. “You talk too much sometimes.”

And with that, he turned and walked away without another word, leaving her fuming and dripping in the water.

Ten minutes later…

The hotel room door burst open. Olivia stormed in, water dripping from her clothes and hair, her eyes wild with rage.

Karl looked up from the minibar and grinned, holding out a fluffy towel with both arms.

“Welcome back, mermaid.”

Her glare could have set him on fire.

She snatched the towel from his hands without a word and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

A while later, she emerged in dry, comfortable clothes, an oversized t-shirt and shorts. Her damp hair was wrapped in a towel, her face flushed from both the warm shower and lingering anger.

She paused when she saw him lying on the couch, shirt unbuttoned halfway, one arm draped over his forehead, eyes closed.

Quietly, she climbed into the bed and turned her back to him, arms crossed.

On the couch, Karl opened his eyes. He turned his head slightly, watching her silently from where he lay.

Guilt gnawed at his chest.

She didn’t say a word.

Neither did he.

But in the quiet, something fragile and real settled in the space between them. A spark that refused to be drowned, even by cold water and bruised pride.

The next morning arrived with a cloudy sky hanging over the city. The business trip had ended, and so had the thin thread of patience Olivia had left.

She packed her suitcase in silence, her movements stiff and sharp. Across the room, Karl zipped his own luggage shut, stealing occasional glances at her but her eyes never once met his.

No more nagging.

No more shouting.

Just… cold silence.

They checked out of the hotel without a word. The only sounds were her heels against the marble floor and the wheels of their suitcases dragging behind.

Outside, the black Mercedes Karl had arranged was waiting at the entrance. The driver stood ready, but Karl raised a hand, gesturing that he would drive himself.

He opened the front passenger door with a short nod to Olivia. “Get in.”

She looked at the open door… then walked right past it, pulling the back door open instead and slipping in without a word.

Karl’s jaw clenched. Stubborn woman…

He marched to her side, yanked open the back door, and without warning scooped her up in his arms again.

“Hey! what are you doing?!” Olivia shrieked, squirming in his grip.

“You’re not a damn child, Olivia.”

“Then stop carrying me around like one, you jerk!”

He opened the front door, placed her firmly onto the passenger seat, slammed the door shut, then bent down to buckle her seatbelt. She tried to swat his hands away, but he leaned in close, his face mere inches from hers.

“Just sit still,” he said in a low voice.

His scent spicy cologne and mint briefly washed over her, making her pulse do something she hated. Something it shouldn’t.

He stepped back, circled to the driver’s seat, got in, and started the engine.

The silence inside the car was thicker than fog.

Karl gripped the steering wheel with one hand, the other resting on the gear shift, his jaw tight.

Olivia turned to stare out the window, arms folded tightly against her chest.

Not a word passed between them.

Not a joke.

Not a tease.

Not even a sarcastic jab.

It wasn’t just about the kiss by the pool. Or the fact that he threw her into the water like a tantrum-throwing manchild.

It was the way he looked at her right before he kissed her. Like for a second… she wasn’t just some country girl he’d dragged into his charade.

And that was the part that scared her the most.

She didn’t want to admit it. But her chest had tightened not from anger. From something else. Something she wasn’t ready to name.

He stole a glance at her profile, the way her lips were pressed into a thin line. He hated that look on her.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you last night,” he muttered under his breath.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t even blink.

He sighed and gripped the steering wheel tighter.

It was going to be a long, quiet drive back.

And neither of them were ready to talk about the fact that the lines between fake and real were starting to blur.

One hours later...

The elevator ride to the penthouse was just as silent as the drive two people standing inches apart, yet miles away.

The moment the doors slid open, Olivia stepped out first, dragging her suitcase behind her like she was escaping a war zone.

Karl didn’t even get the chance to say a word before she beelined for her room.

“Olivia,” he called.

She didn’t turn around.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t even glance back.

Her door opened. Then shut. Quietly. Firmly.

Karl stood in the middle of the living room, rubbing the back of his neck, frustrated beyond words. He let out a long sigh and dropped his keys on the counter with a loud clack.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” he muttered to himself.

He was used to women clinging to him. Needing him. Worshipping him. He knew what to say to get what he wanted s*x, smiles, satisfaction.

But Olivia?

Olivia didn’t want anything from him.

No money. No fame.

No sweet words or silk sheets.

She was a damn storm in a sundress, and he didn’t know how to deal with her.

Karl kicked off his shoes, loosened his collar, and slumped onto the couch.

He’d kissed her last night. He had told himself it was to make Laura jealous. But he knew better.

He wanted to kiss her.

He wanted to taste that fire on her lips, even if she fought him like hell afterward.

“Damn it,” he whispered.

Inside her room…

Olivia sat on the edge of her bed, her suitcase untouched. Her wet clothes from last night were gone, but she still felt the heat in her cheeks from the memory.

That kiss…

It caught her off guard.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was possessive. Raw. Hungry.

She hated herself for not slapping him sooner.

But what made her furious most of all… was the way her heart had stupidly skipped a beat when his lips crushed hers. The way her body had leaned in for a second just one before her brain caught up.

“This is stupid,” she muttered, shaking her head and standing up. “It’s fake. All of it. He’s just a spoiled, arrogant playboy.”

She paced the floor, hugging her arms across her chest.

Then she froze.

So why do I care so much?

Back in the living room…

Karl stared at the closed door of her room, debating.

He’d never felt like this before unsure, guilty, restless. He’d slept with dozens of women, and none of them made him question himself like Olivia did.

She wasn’t beautiful in the usual polished way the women in his world were. But God… she had this natural charm, this fire in her eyes that burned through his defenses.

And when she was mad?

She was irresistible.

He ran a hand through his messy hair and let out another sigh.

“She’s driving me crazy,” he muttered. “And I don’t even know if I hate it.”

The sky outside the penthouse windows was painted in hues of orange and indigo, the city slowly twinkling to life under the setting sun. Karl stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, shirt untucked, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and checking the simmering pasta sauce on the stove with the other.

For the first time in his adult life, he was cooking. Not ordering. Not calling the chef.

Cooking.

For her.

He glanced at the clock. 7:12 p.m.

He checked his phone again. No new messages. No calls.

Where the hell is she?

A few moments later, the soft clicking of heels echoed from the hallway. Karl’s head lifted with relief, but the expression on his face quickly froze when he saw her.

Olivia stood near the door, fresh and glowing in a casual white blouse tucked into fitted jeans, hair down in soft waves, and a light swipe of gloss on her lips. She looked… breathtaking. Effortlessly so.

She held her phone in one hand and her purse in the other.

“I’m heading out,” she said, avoiding his eyes, adjusting the strap of her purse.

“Out?” Karl asked, setting the wine bottle down. “I thought we’d have dinner together.”

Her eyes flickered to the table where he’d already set two plates.

“I promised Mia,” she replied flatly. “Girls’ night.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Since when do you do girls’ night?”

“Since now.” She smiled tightly and turned to leave.

“Wait—Olivia,” Karl called out, stepping toward her. “Are you avoiding me?”

She froze for a second, then turned slowly, crossing her arms.

“Why would I avoid you, Mr. Johnson?” she asked coolly. “You’re just my fake fiancé, right?”

He clenched his jaw. “Don’t start.”

“You started it,” she shot back. “You kissed me like it meant something and then threw me into the damn pool.”

He exhaled. “You wouldn’t stop yelling.”

“Because I was mad!” she hissed, stepping closer. “You can’t just go around kissing people for your convenience and then tossing them in water like trash!”

“I wasn’t treating you like trash,” he said, his voice low. “I was—”

“What? Showing off? Marking your territory?” she cut in, fire in her eyes.

He said nothing.

Because that’s exactly what he’d been doing.

Olivia blinked, shook her head like she couldn’t believe him, then grabbed the door handle.

“I’m done with this conversation. I’m not hungry.”

“But I cooked,” he muttered, more to himself than her.

She slammed the door gently but firmly, leaving the scent of her perfume and an uncomfortable ache in his chest.

Karl stood there for a long moment, then looked at the dinner table. Two plates. Candle lit. Wine poured.

All for nothing.

You’re losing your touch, Johnson, he thought bitterly as he grabbed his glass of wine and sank onto the chair.

But deep down, he knew—

It wasn’t about touch.

It was about her.

And she was slipping further away.