Page 68 of For You, Sir

I furrowed my brow. “Don’t even say that, Jun.Iwas the one who signed a contract with the studio.” I splayed a hand over my chest. “I didn’t deliver by the deadline, and Iaccept the consequences.” The penalty fee would take a huge bite out of my savings—more of abrokenwrist than aslapon the wrist—but I’d survive.

He folded his arms, looking away. Probably miffed that I could have prevented this, but hadn’t. My stubbornness and poor mental health stood in the way of his career success.

“Can I get you a glass of wine?” I offered. Maybe things would seem less dire in the comfort of the kitchen.

He nodded weakly. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

We headed to the wine rack in the pantry. I tried to pick an extra-tasty one to cheer him up, but I couldn’t make heads from tails with all the French and frippery.

“Hmm…” I rubbed my chin, and mused aloud to myself, “How to pick a bottle, when my man knows ten times more about wine than I do?”

I saw a ghost of a smile, and Jun laughed dryly. “Allow me.” He perused the labels and snatched a dark, fat bottle from the rack. He flipped it around to face me, framing the label with his hand. “May I recommend this vintage port, Sir? Its sweet blackberry notes should offset your butler’s bitterness.”

I chuckled. At least he could joke about it. “I don’t see this as a bitter situation,” I said, “but let’s try it. Sounds tasty.”

Jun cut the foil and pulled the cork, while I grabbed us a couple of wine glasses. He served us each a generous pour, and we clinked glasses in a wordless toast. The wine was sweet, robust, and complex. “That’s a damn fine port.”

Jun took a swallow and nodded his agreement.

“What’s bothering you?” I asked, leaning back against the cabinets. “I mean, we knew this was coming eventually, right?”

“They shouldn’t have canceled it,” he said, irritably. “You just needed more time.”

“I didn’t run out of time, Jun. I refused to perform. It’s one hundred percent my fault, zero percent yours.”

He sighed unhappily. Damn his hiring agency for setting him up to fail by giving him an impossible task in the first place.

“I just like the way things are now,” he said in a quiet voice. “I don’t want to lose all this time with you.”

“True.” I nodded. “I’ll miss it, too. But we’ll find a new routine that works for both of us.”

Jun frowned doubtfully and ran his thumb along the rim of his glass. “I guess.”

“No guessing. I guarantee it.”

I took the glass from his hand and set it down with my own. Then I grabbed him by the belt loops and jerked him close. Jun gave a startled,“oh!”and I caught the flicker of a smile on his face at the rough handling. He leaned into me, and we joined together, face to face, hip to hip.

“You’re a catch, Jun. One in a million,” I said. “There’s no way I’m letting you go.”

“I hope so,” Jun said, eyes downcast. “I’d like that.”

“You won’t have to just hope. I’ll keep proving it to you.”

He lifted his eyes, silently begging for reassurance.

“Didn’t you know?” I slid my hands into his back pockets and pulled him close, cupping his buttocks through the silky material of his pocket lining.

“Know what, Sir?”

“You’re the reason I’ve been facing my fears,” I murmured close to his ear. “I’ve gotta leave the house so I can take you out.”

He smiled shyly. “Oh…”

“And if I’d do the thing I fear most, don’t you think I’d do just about anything else for you, too?”

His eyes welled. “I guess you would. Thank you, Sir.”

“I love you, Jun.” I tilted his chin up. “And I’m not letting you go. Even when I’m the one giving orders, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”

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