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"Luke, Yerin, if you had to give Francesca some advice, what would you say?"
Luke was caught off guard by the question. He, Yerin, and Hannah were seated in front of a rather large audience in Madrid, Spain—one of the stops on their world tour promoting Bridgerton Season 4. He thought he had been doing rather well, despite fidgeting in his seat; he was always like this during live interviews. Acting was fine, but talking about himself always made him uncomfortable, and being over-caffeinated certainly didn't help. Just as he was finally starting to settle in, they were hit with this question about "pinnacles." Awkward.
He fumbled through a mumbled response, finally ending with, "I think Benedict would keep quiet on this one."
Thank God for Yerin, though. She answered it beautifully. So beautifully, in fact, that he couldn’t stop thinking about what she had said about pinnacles. Her looking absolutely glorious beside him didn't help his distraction, either. He couldn't help but notice the striking contrast she made against the heavy, patterned backdrop. Her dress was a vibrant cerulean, a sleeveless satin with a softly draped mock neck that managed to look both classic and completely modern. Sitting back in the gold-framed chair, she possessed a quiet confidence, one hand loosely holding a microphone while the long, dark waves of her hair framed her profile. The silk of her skirt spilled elegantly over her lap, trailing down in an asymmetric sweep.
She looked so fucking gorgeous. All the time. With makeup, without makeup. And when she spoke... goddammit, Luke always forgot they were in front of a crowd, his eyes glued to her the entire time.
He had met loads of gorgeous women, but to him, Yerin was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.
He remembered how she had captivated him during their Zoom chemistry read. For the masquerade ball, director Tom Verica had made sure that Luke's first time seeing her in that silver dress would be while the cameras were rolling, catching her staring at the chandelier to genuinely capture the love-at-first-sight trope. And damn, he was right to do it. Luke had held his breath when he saw her wearing that silver gown and mask for the first time. She looked like a goddess. He was known for his intense focus at work, but at that moment, he was a total mess. He kept fumbling his lines.
He also remembered that interview in Paris. She had worn a sheer, multi-layered dress in rich berry and deep wine-red tones. The garment featured a translucent, long-sleeved mesh overlay with an elegant neckline, revealing a solid, strapless mauve underlayer beneath. The sheer fabric extended down through a form-fitting skirt, which made Luke struggle inwardly. She was so unbelievably sexy. He couldn’t concentrate, and it was evident in his scattered answers whenever they sat beside each other. He didn't know how much longer he could battle his desire for her; he longed for the taste of her. And now, she had given this answer that he couldn't quite get out of his mind.
"I think maids back in the day were actually the people with all the information, all the gossip. So... you know, I think Sophie is a bit more educated, I think, about sex. So I think she could give some advice and say, 'It’s hard for women.' And it is, and I think there’s this expectation that it’s so easy for women, and I’d probably hear stories about how no one’s really reached the pinnacle, actually, and they faked it, and I’d be like... don’t worry, you’re not the only one."
He awkwardly scratched the back of his head. That was a fucking good answer, but his mind was elsewhere. He tried his best to concentrate on the moment. He had been so consumed by his own struggle with the crowd that he only just noticed Yerin's seating position, since his eyes darted to her every time she spoke. She was the lead, and yet she was positioned on the corner of the stage like some extra. He wanted to check in on her, but it would be awkward to do so right in the middle of the panel.
After the interview, as they were heading back to their van, he caught up with her immediately to ask if she was okay.
"That was so unfair, having you seated over in the corner," he said softly.
Yerin shrugged. "It’s not a big deal, really, but thank you for checking in on me. I appreciate that."
Back in his hotel room, Luke lay in bed, still thinking about Yerin’s answer regarding women faking pinnacles. He couldn't shake it from his mind, but eventually, he forced himself to take a nap. They had loads of interviews and photoshoots ahead, and he desperately needed his energy.
Next day.
He looked at his reflection in the mirror before the evening's event. He hadn't seen Yerin or Hannah yet. He was wearing a sharp, double-breasted black blazer featuring unique horizontal red and brown stripes, paired with a crisp white shirt, a classic black tie, matching black trousers, and polished dress shoes. Usually, his chronically offline, laid-back nature meant he preferred comfort over high fashion, but admittedly, he was thankful for the stylist today. He wanted to look good for Yerin.
Yerin again. He couldn't keep his mind off her, and his pulse quickened at the thought of seeing her. He wasn't sure if he could keep his desires in check, but he was trying his absolute best to maintain control.
Damn.
Yerin looked captivatingly gorgeous. The ruby-red sequins of her gown caught every drop of light, and her hair fell in perfect, glossy waves. He momentarily forgot about Hannah standing right beside her as he offered a greeting. She was smiling at him, and the magical, romantic vibe of Madrid wasn't helping his self-control in the slightest. Just when he thought she couldn't possibly be any more beautiful, she had to go and wear that perfect fucking dress—one that hugged every curve of her body so flawlessly that his feral side was pushed right to the edge. He really couldn't take it anymore; he couldn't wait to finally get his hands on her.
"You look so fucking good," he told Yerin while her makeup artist was doing a quick retouch.
"Thanks." Yerin beamed at the compliment.
Then, unable to hold it in any longer, he murmured, "I’m sorry, I just want to kiss you right here in front of everybody."
Yerin smirked. "Yeah, yeah, yeah... me too."
And that was all he could think about for the rest of the night.
Finally, after the photoshoots, dinner, and endless interviews, Luke exited the event venue, waving at the fans. He was down to just his white shirt now, his necktie hanging loose and untied. He was running hot.
Upon arriving at his hotel room, he lay down on the bed, entirely unable to stop thinking about Yerin in that incredibly hot red dress. He didn't move, trying his absolute best to resist the urge to march down the hall and knock on her door.
Yerin, on the other hand, was exhausted. When she reached her room, all she wanted to do was rest, yet she couldn't stop thinking about Luke—especially what he had whispered about wanting to kiss her in front of everybody. She still blushed at the thought. Her publicist was explaining their itinerary for the next day, but Yerin's mind was occupied. She nodded along politely before finally asking her publicist, who had also become a good friend, if they could wrap it up so she could rest.
"Yes, of course, but please let me help you take off this dress. You know it's pretty expensive," her publicist said.
"Oh, right, yeah," Yerin laughed. "But just unzip it. I’m sure I can handle sliding it off without damaging it and draining my personal savings to pay the brand back."
"Are you sure? Okay then, I’ll leave you to it. Good night," her publicist said, unzipping the back of the gown before slipping out the door.
As the footsteps receded down the hall, her phone dinged with a text message.
Fully aware that her dress was currently unzipped and precarious, she practically hopped across the room like a frog to reach her phone, hyper-careful not to damage the fabric (admittedly, she immediately regretted not letting her publicist help her out of it completely).
When she finally grabbed the phone, she saw the message was from Luke.
"Are you alone now?"
Her heart skipped a beat.
"Yes" she typed back, much faster than she probably should have.
She was about to add something else when a soft knock sounded at the door. She did the frog-hop once again to reach the handle, acutely aware of how ridiculous she must look. And then she opened it.
There he was, looking unbearably hot. He was slightly sweaty, his shirt unbuttoned at the top. Afraid of them being spotted in the hallway, she grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him inside.
Silence.
They just stared at each other.
Until Luke finally closed the distance and kissed her. So deeply. All those hours of forcing himself to maintain control poured directly into that kiss. She kissed him back just as passionately. But as his hands slid around to caress her back, she was sharply reminded that her dress was completely unzipped and highly vulnerable.
"Hold on a second," she gasped, out of breath.
Luke continued trailing kisses down her neck, mumbling a protest about not wanting to stop.
"This dress is so expensive, and I really don’t want to ruin it. Please help me take it off."
"Oh," he breathed, happily obliging.
Once the gown was safely draped out of harm's way, they picked up exactly where they had left off. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, and he laid her back onto the bed as carefully as if she were made of porcelain.
"God, you’re so gorgeous."
As their kiss deepened, he leaned down to whisper in her ear, a smirk tracing his lips and his voice rough with need.
"You know, I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said yesterday about women faking their pinnacles. So, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to help you reach a real one."
She looked up at him, a matching smirk on her face. "Alright, Mr. Benedict Bridgerton. Show me what you've got."