Chapter 29
[Premium French Dining Franchise Strategy]
[Cheongdam-dong Flagship Store and Simultaneous Opening of 20 Major Locations Nationwide]
It was a massive project.
There were luxury interior designs, a full ingredient supply plan using the Yoonsan Group’s logistics network, and a complete marketing strategy. Everything was perfectly prepared.
“Ever since word spread that Jean-Michel acknowledged you, investors have been lining up. When the timing is right, you have to row hard,” Taehwa said quickly, in a dry tone, like he was giving a construction briefing.
“We’ll standardize the recipes and turn them into manuals. I already found a sauce factory. You just take the title of ‘Creative Chef’ and manage things.”
Taehwa clearly believed Sorim would be happy.
He probably thought she would be moved to tears after he set up something this big for her.
But Sorim’s fingertips were growing cold.
“…You prepared all of this without even talking to me first?”
“You’ve been stressed lately. And there was no need to discuss it. This is a perfect plan that already passed professional consulting reviews.”
“…”
“I bought the restaurant anyway. If I want to tear it down and rebuild it, what’s the problem?”
“I…”
Sorim placed the proposal on the table.
“I never wanted this.”
Silence filled the living room.
The assistants held their breath, watching Taehwa’s expression.
His brow slowly tightened.
“…You never wanted it?”
“Yes. A franchise? Mass-producing sauces in factories and cooking by manuals? That’s not my food.”
“Yoon Sorim.”
“I just want to serve warm food that I make with my own hands. I don’t care if it’s small. I want to cook with sincerity.”
Her voice trembled.
He really didn’t understand anything.
Why she cooked.
What her parents’ notebook meant to her.
After listening quietly, Taehwa let out a short, empty laugh.
He loosened his tie roughly and leaned forward.
“I thought you were ambitious, but you’re smaller-minded than I expected.”
“This isn’t about capacity. It’s about values.”
“Values? That’s a romantic thing to say at the wrong time. This isn’t pocket change.”
His eyes sharpened. He was clearly displeased that his generosity—and this perfect business—had been rejected.
“Business is all about timing. Are you really going to spend your whole life chopping onions in some kitchen corner, just trusting your hands? Wearing a stained apron?”
“…”
“I can take you so much higher, and you’re satisfied with being just a cook? This is your chance to become a real business owner.”
Just a cook.
Those words stabbed Sorim’s chest.
No matter how nicely he dressed it up, to him, her cooking was just a way to make money—or a trivial skill.
“…I won’t do it,” Sorim said quietly.
“What?”
“I’ll never sign. So clear all those documents.”
“Ha.”
Taehwa stood up, running a hand through his hair, clearly irritated.
“You’ll regret this.”
“I won’t. Protecting my cooking matters more than sitting on piles of money.”
“So stubborn.”
He looked down at her coldly.
“Fine. Let’s talk again after you calm down. You’re too emotional right now.”
Soon, he left with his assistants.
* * *
The night in the Hannam-dong penthouse was painfully quiet.
Sorim stared out the floor-to-ceiling window, then glanced toward the kitchen.
German high-end appliances stood perfectly arranged, waiting for use. But Sorim hadn’t gone near the kitchen lately.
Taehwa didn’t like it when she stayed there.
“There’s a housekeeper. You don’t need to do that kind of work.”
Her fingers twitched.
She missed chopping onions, simmering sauces, sweating in front of the stove. She kept rubbing her fingers, longing for that feeling.
Then—beep.
The sound of the door unlocking cut through the silence.
Sorim flinched.
The steady sound of dress shoes on marble grew closer.
She didn’t need to turn around to know it was Taehwa.
He entered the living room with his jacket in hand.
“You’re still awake.”
He passed her casually.
The faint smoky scent of whiskey hit her nose.
“…You’re back?”
She greeted him late, but there was no reply.
Despite drinking, his steps were steady as he went to the home bar and poured whiskey over ice.
The clear clink of ice echoed in the quiet room.
He tilted his head back and took a sip. His Adam’s apple moved slowly.
Holding the glass, he sank into the sofa and loosened his tie. His long fingers looked strong and firm.
“Come here.”
His eyes were on the night view ahead, but the command was clearly meant for her.
After hesitating, Sorim walked over.
Taehwa slowly turned his head and looked her over in her thin silk slip.
His gaze lingered on her collarbone, then moved down to her ankles.
“That’s too thin. I should turn the heater up.”
“…I’m fine. I’m not cold.”
“I’m not fine. It bothers me to look at.”
A crooked smile appeared on his lips—cold, arrogant, completely like him.
Without warning, he reached out and grabbed her wrist.
“…!”
Sorim gasped.
Without softening his grip, he pulled her onto his lap.
Through the thin silk, his solid thigh pressed against her soft skin. Heat seemed to rise where they touched.
His large hand slowly moved up her waist to her back.
The warmth from his palm traveled up her spine and into her head.
Sorim stiffened, hands resting on his shoulders.
“Mr. Song Taehwa, um…”
“Is it still that awkward to say your husband’s name?”
“…”
“You should be used to it by now.”
He tucked her messy hair behind her ear and whispered.
His cool fingers brushed her earlobe slowly.
It was brief, but her whole body reacted.
“…My aunt called earlier. She wanted to meet…”
“Ignore her.”
His voice was firm.
“Meeting people like that gets you nothing.”
His tone turned cold.
He gently held her chin and turned her face toward him, tightening his grip.
“You’re part of Yoonsan now, Yoon Sorim. That means you belong to me.”
“…I know. I haven’t forgotten.”
“If you know, then show it. Stop hanging around the kitchen.”
Again.
He didn’t want her there.
He didn’t want her cooking.
“You should never have to hold a knife again.”
“…”
“Your fingers deserve other things. Rings. Flowers. Beautiful things.”
His gaze rested on her lips.
At a distance just short of touching, she could feel his breath mixed with whiskey.
