AUTHOR'S NOTE – Bonus Chapter Announcement
Hello, dear readers! ✨
I'm excited to announce a special bonus chapter of Espionage of the Heart coming your way tomorrow morning! This extra installment dives even deeper into the intrigue and passion that you've come to love, adding new twists and intimate moments to our unfolding story.
Thank you for your incredible support and patience. Your feedback fuels my creativity, and I can't wait for you to experience this bonus chapter. Stay tuned, and as always, feel free to share your thoughts and reactions!
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With all my love,
Penola.S💕
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The cab rumbled steadily through the bustling streets of Shanghai, neon signs and flashing billboards reflecting off sleek glass storefronts. Inside, the air was cool and charged with anticipation. Andrea leaned back against the window, watching the city pass by—a dizzying tapestry of bright, unfamiliar colors and designs. Chinese fashion was unlike anything she'd seen before; bold prints, eclectic silhouettes, and an effortless fusion of tradition and modernity splashed across every storefront. It was exciting and, in a way, overwhelming.
Across from her, Eunwoo's expression remained as unyielding as ever—cold, calculated, his eyes fixed on his phone. He rarely let his guard drop, even on an early morning flight. Yet, as they neared the destination, a quiet tension seemed to hang in the air. Minjoon's occasional snorts and whispered quips punctuated the silence, his internal amusement barely contained.
Before they reached the hotel, Minjoon leaned toward Andrea with a conspiratorial grin. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed," he murmured, "that Shanghai's vibe is totally different from what you're used to. It's like every street is a runway."
Andrea rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Maybe. But it's also a maze. I can't read a single sign—it's all Chinese to me." Her words were light, but underneath, she felt a prickling sense of vulnerability—being in a new country, out of her element yet here for a mission that left no room for error.
Eunwoo's gaze flickered up from his phone, his tone low and teasing as he addressed her, "Follow my lead, Miss Yıldız. I know these streets like the back of my hand."
Andrea smirked, her Turkish accent softening the words as she replied quietly, "I'm following, even if I'm clueless about the directions. I wouldn't want to get lost in translation—literally."
The cab eventually pulled up in front of a majestic five-star hotel. Its sleek glass façade and polished marble entrance gleamed under the gentle morning light, exuding an air of refined luxury. As the cab slowed to a stop, Eunwoo's expression turned professional; his gaze was intent, his posture perfect as he prepared to step out.
They emerged into the cool morning air, and as they walked toward the grand entrance, Eunwoo glanced at Andrea. "Remember—stick with me. This isn't a sightseeing tour," he said in a measured tone, more a reminder of duty than a command.
Andrea nodded, pulling her jacket a little tighter. "Always, boss," she replied with a wry smile, though the playful note in her voice belied her inner skepticism. Always the formal man, always the one calling the shots… she mused silently.
Inside the hotel, the lobby was a picture of modern opulence. Crisp marble floors, gleaming brass accents, and soft ambient lighting made everything look immaculate. A few well-dressed guests lingered near the reception desk, their eyes briefly catching sight of the arriving duo. Eunwoo led the way confidently, his every step measured and assured.
At the reception, Eunwoo approached the counter. In a calm, authoritative voice, he asked, "Does the room for Mr. King exist?" His tone was formal, businesslike—a man used to command, never questioning his own decisions.
The receptionist—a poised, elegantly dressed woman with warm eyes—smiled as she looked up at him. "Yes, sir. Your room is ready," she replied in a clear, courteous tone. Then, with a playful nod, she added, "For Mr. and Mrs. King, of course."
Andrea's ears perked up at the unexpected phrase. She turned slightly to catch the receptionist's smile and then faced Eunwoo. Leaning toward him, in a low, teasing whisper filled with both curiosity and jest, she murmured, "Mr. and Mrs? Am I hearing that right?" Her voice was soft but edged with a tone that was both mocking and oddly affectionate—a playful challenge to his cool reserve.
Eunwoo's eyes flickered—if only for a split second—with an emotion Andrea wasn't quite sure how to read. His tone was cool and even, "It's the cover, Andrea. We have a suite booked under that title." He didn't elaborate, his expression once again hardening into its usual impassive mask.
Inside, Andrea's mind buzzed. A suite for Mr. and Mrs. King? She knew well that their cover was designed to project the image of a powerful couple. Yet, in her heart, she felt no romantic flutter—only a grudging respect for the efficiency and precision with which he ran everything. She wasn't interested in playing the part of a lovestruck fiancée. Instead, she was here to complete the mission—though the absurdity of it all made her roll her eyes in secret amusement.
Meanwhile, Minjoon lingered a few steps behind, his internal monologue racing with amusement. Oh, this is rich—Eunwoo King, always so formal, and Andrea, the fierce agent who just can't help but let a Turkish curse slip. They really are a match, whether they like it or not. He grinned to himself, enjoying every moment of the banter, though he knew better than to let his laughter draw unwanted attention.
The receptionist handed Eunwoo a key card and a printed itinerary, which he accepted with a slight nod. "Thank you," he said, his voice firm. Turning to Andrea, he added, "Let's check in and get settled. We leave as scheduled."
Andrea smirked softly, the playful banter momentarily cooling the tension between them. "Sure," she replied, her tone light despite the seriousness that lurked beneath. I'm not your typical fiancée, but I'll play along if it means we nail this mission.
They moved toward the elevator, the soft hum of the polished marble echoing around them. Outside, Minjoon gave one last amused glance before disappearing into the crowd of hotel guests, his mind already ticking through the next steps of their operation.
Inside the elevator, the air was thick with quiet thoughts and unspoken challenges. Andrea looked over at Eunwoo, noting the calm determination etched on his face—the mask he wore so well that few ever saw the man beneath.
"You know," she began softly, "this whole act—of being Mr. and Mrs. King—it's absurd, but somehow, it makes sense. At least, for the mission."
Eunwoo's gaze was steady as he replied, "It's a necessary facade. Appearances matter in our line of work."
Andrea nodded slowly. "Appearances do matter. I just hope you're not taking it too seriously. I'm here to fight, not to be coddled like a love-struck fool."
A small, fleeting smile tugged at Eunwoo's lips—a gesture so rare and brief that it nearly went unnoticed. "Then fight well, Andrea," he said quietly. "We're counting on you."
As the elevator doors opened onto the fifth floor, they stepped out into a corridor lit with soft, warm lighting. The echo of their footsteps was a quiet promise that soon, the mission would begin. For now, they had checked in, secured their temporary haven, and taken the first step in a long day ahead.
In the hotel lobby's waiting area, Eunwoo leaned against a marble pillar, his phone buzzing with updates from Minjoon and Dimitri. He typed quickly, his responses curt and efficient. Across from him, Andrea adjusted her jacket and stretched her arms, still alert despite the soft morning light filtering through the grand windows.
They waited together in silence, a moment of calm before the storm. Andrea's thoughts raced—she was far from home, in a foreign land where every sign was a mystery, and every face was new. Yet, as she glanced at Eunwoo, she felt a mixture of irritation, respect, and an inexplicable pull. He was her boss, her partner in this covert mission, and though his cold manner often grated on her, she couldn't deny the strength in his presence.
Finally, Eunwoo's phone beeped one last time with an update from Minjoon: "Cab's waiting. Let's roll."
Eunwoo slipped the phone into his pocket, his dark eyes meeting Andrea's for a brief, silent exchange—a promise of efficiency, of duty, and perhaps something more that they both refused to name aloud.
"Let's go," he said softly.
Together, they stepped outside into the brisk Shanghai morning, leaving the comfortable confines of the hotel behind. As they climbed into the waiting cab, Andrea whispered under her breath, "Kendini o kadar ciddiye alma, buz kralı." (Don't take yourself so seriously, ice king.)
A fleeting, secret smile crossed Eunwoo's lips, unseen by anyone but Andrea. The cab pulled away, and as Shanghai's chaotic beauty spread before them, the duo braced themselves for the challenges of the day—together, as partners, bound by duty, deception, and an unspoken connection that only the most dangerous missions could forge.
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The soft hum of conversation had faded as Andrea and Eunwoo walked briskly toward the suite room. Their footsteps echoed on the polished marble floor, each step punctuating the steady rhythm of early morning in Shanghai. The air in the corridor was cool, and the gentle light from wall sconces revealed intricate patterns on the floor—a blend of modern design and traditional Chinese artistry.
They reached the elevator, its mirrored walls reflecting a mosaic of anxious faces and muted hopes. As the heavy, sliding doors opened with a quiet whoosh, they stepped inside. The spacious, modern cabin was mostly empty, save for a solitary figure: an 8-year-old boy standing near the panel of buttons. His soft eyes wandered curiously over the gleaming surfaces as he clutched a small toy in one hand.
In clear, gentle Mandarin, the child spoke in a voice so soft it almost seemed like a whisper:
"Qǐngwèn nín yào qù jǐ lóu?"
("Excuse me, which floor are you going to?")
The child's tone was innocent, and his gaze—unexpectedly fixated on Andrea—seemed to search for something, or perhaps simply admire her unconventional beauty. Andrea's heart fluttered slightly, though she quickly masked her surprise behind a casual smirk. She wasn't accustomed to feeling conspicuous in a foreign land, where every word on a sign was a puzzle and every curious glance carried meaning.
Eunwoo's dark eyes flickered over to the boy. With a practiced ease that spoke of years of navigating unfamiliar languages, he replied confidently in Mandarin:
"41 Lóu."
("41st floor.")
For a brief, suspended moment, the child's face lit up as he repeated softly,
"Ó, wǒ yěshì 41 lóu."
("Oh, I'm also on the 41st floor.")
Andrea's eyes widened in amazement as she listened. She turned to Eunwoo, her tone low and teasing, yet with genuine curiosity.
"Mr. King, did you just say… 41?"
Eunwoo met her gaze briefly, his expression unreadable. "Yes," he replied curtly, returning his attention to the elevator's display. His tone held no trace of humor—even as the child's innocent remark reverberated around them.
Andrea couldn't help but let out a soft, incredulous laugh. "Really? That kid is on the same floor?" she murmured, half to herself and half to him. The playful spark in her eyes contrasted with the cool reserve he maintained. For her, it was a moment of unexpected levity in an otherwise tense morning—a reminder that even in covert operations, small, human moments could slip through.
Eunwoo raised an eyebrow as he noted her reaction. "Yes, Miss Yıldız," he said, his voice measured. "It appears our cover might just be a little more… convincing than we thought." There was a slight emphasis on "convincing," as though he were testing the boundaries of their fabricated identities.
Andrea shook her head, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I suppose if I were a real fiancée, I'd be expecting a bouquet of roses every morning, not just this... unexpected conversation with an eight-year-old." Her tone was playful, but beneath it lay an undercurrent of frustration—an unspoken admission that every moment in Shanghai challenged her in new, unpredictable ways.
The elevator began its slow ascent. Outside, the busy sounds of the hotel faded, replaced by the soft hum of the cables and the occasional chime as floors passed by on the digital display. The child, now quieter, continued to press his tiny fingers on the button panel with childlike wonder. His presence, so innocent and unburdened by the weight of adult responsibilities, struck a chord in Andrea. She remembered a time before missions, before the constant balancing act of duty and defiance—a time when the world seemed simpler.
Eunwoo's gaze flickered briefly back to Andrea, as if reading her thoughts, though he said nothing. His silence was his trademark, a protective shield he rarely allowed to drop. Yet in that moment, the subtle tension between them—their banter, their challenges—seemed to converge into a quiet understanding.
As the elevator doors opened with a soft chime on the 41st floor, the child stepped out first, smiling shyly as he joined a small group of hotel guests. Andrea and Eunwoo followed, walking side by side into a polished corridor that led to the suite room. The air was cool and filled with the soft murmur of distant conversations, and every step further entrenched them in the masquerade they had created.
Outside the suite, Eunwoo paused at the door, his hand hovering over the handle. He turned slightly toward Andrea, his eyes shadowed with unspoken command. "Remember, our identities must remain impeccable. We are Mr. and Mrs. King's fiancé —for the duration of this mission. No deviations."
Andrea met his gaze squarely, her tone light yet edged with defiance. "Understood. But if I'm going to be your 'Mrs. King,' maybe you should try smiling once in a while. It might make the act less painful."
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Andrea's eyes flickered with curiosity as she subtly signaled to Eunwoo, her fingers forming a small, questioning motion.
"What did he say?" she asked, her voice soft yet laced with quiet intrigue.
Eunwoo's gaze remained calm as he translated. "He was just asking about the floor," he replied smoothly, his expression unreadable.
"Oh," Andrea murmured, offering a gentle smile before turning her attention back to the child. Her lips curled up in a way that softened her entire face, making her look effortlessly warm.
The boy, no older than seven or eight, studied her with wide eyes before a slow grin spread across his face. Then, in a quiet but certain voice, he said something that made Eunwoo freeze.
"She's pretty."
It was the first time Eunwoo had ever heard someone say that about Andrea, and for reasons he couldn't quite name, something in his chest tightened. His head instinctively turned toward her, as if seeing her in a new light. The boy, unaware of the ripple effect his words had caused, continued to stare at Andrea in admiration before shifting his gaze to Eunwoo.
"Your wife is beautiful," the child added in Chinese, his tone utterly sincere.
Andrea blinked, confusion evident on her face. "Huh?" she murmured, tilting her head slightly before crouching down to the child's level. "I'm sorry, but I didn't understand what you said." Her voice was gentle, patient.
Eunwoo felt a strange flicker of amusement at her innocence. He fought the urge to smile but couldn't stop the warmth that crept into his chest.
"Yeah, thank you, champ," he said in Chinese, his voice lower, softer. There was something oddly vulnerable about the way he spoke, as if he were hiding something even from himself.
Andrea straightened, her brows knitting together as she looked between the two of them. Suspicion danced in her eyes. "What are you guys talking about?"
The boy merely giggled, as if it were a secret only he and Eunwoo could share. Andrea, undeterred, turned to the child again. "Um, do you know English?" she asked, her voice lilting with encouragement.
The boy pursed his lips before nodding, albeit hesitantly. "A bit English," he replied in an accented but earnest attempt.
Before Andrea could probe further, Eunwoo exhaled, his tone shifting slightly—colder, more distant. "He's saying you're beautiful."
Andrea's lips parted slightly. The words lingered in the air, heavier than they should have been.
She turned back to the child, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Xièxiè," she said softly in Chinese, her pronunciation almost perfect.
Eunwoo's head snapped toward her. Surprise flickered in his dark eyes, but it wasn't just surprise—it was something deeper, something raw.
"You speak Chinese?" His voice was quieter this time, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. Like he'd been caught off guard.
Andrea shrugged, her expression playful. "A little."
Eunwoo turned away, his fingers clenching briefly before he stuffed them into his pockets. A shadow passed over his face, but when he spoke, his voice carried a teasing lilt, masking whatever emotion had just surged through him.
"She isn't beautiful yet," he muttered, half under his breath.
Andrea frowned. "What do you mean?"
Eunwoo didn't answer right away. Instead, he cast her a sidelong glance, something unreadable swirling in his dark gaze. And then, just as she thought he might say something, he simply smirked, his lips curving in that frustratingly enigmatic way of his.
"Figure it out," he murmured before walking ahead, leaving Andrea standing there, more confused than ever.
Andrea sighed, her thoughts still lingering on the boy's innocent compliment as she followed Eunwoo down the hallway. The child waved at them one last time before turning in the opposite direction, his small frame disappearing around the corner.
Eunwoo, now carrying his luggage, walked briskly ahead, his long strides making it difficult for Andrea to keep up. He moved with a quiet confidence, as if the world bent around his presence.
She trailed behind, smirking to herself as her mind wandered back to the encounter. The boy had been so sweet, so genuine, and the way Eunwoo had reacted—like he was caught off guard—was oddly amusing.
Lost in thought, she barely noticed when he suddenly stopped in front of their room.
Before she could react, she bumped into him, her forehead colliding straight into his chest.
"Oof!" she let out a soft gasp as she stumbled back slightly, pressing a hand against her forehead.
Eunwoo turned just in time, his hands instinctively reaching out to steady her. "You should watch where you're going," he said, his voice low, a hint of amusement flickering beneath the usual coolness.
Andrea scowled, rubbing her forehead. "Maybe you should give some kind of warning before stopping like that."
His lips twitched, but he didn't step back. "Didn't think you'd be so distracted."
Her cheeks warmed slightly at the implication. "I wasn't distracted," she countered, crossing her arms.
Eunwoo arched a brow. "No? Then what were you thinking about?"
Andrea hesitated. She wasn't about to admit she was replaying the moment when he had looked at her like she was someone worth noticing. Instead, she huffed and stepped past him, reaching for the keycard in her pocket.
"Nothing important," she muttered.
Eunwoo watched her for a second longer, his gaze lingering in a way that sent an odd shiver down her spine. Then, with a small shake of his head, he reached over and swiped the keycard himself, pushing the door open.
"Sure," he murmured, stepping inside first, his voice laced with quiet amusement.
Andrea followed, her heart still beating a little too fast.
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Andrea wiped the corner of her eye, sniffling as she watched the little boy walk in the opposite direction, still grinning at her before disappearing into the hallway. There was something endearing about his innocence, the way he so easily said what was on his mind—something Eunwoo would never do.
She turned back to Eunwoo, who was already several steps ahead, his long strides making it difficult for her to keep up. He carried his luggage effortlessly, his sharp features unreadable, as if the boy's comment had never happened.
Andrea, on the other hand, was still thinking about it, a smirk curling on her lips. Beautiful. The boy had called her beautiful. And Eunwoo… Eunwoo had looked surprised.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice he had stopped in front of their hotel room.
Her body collided with his back.
A solid, warm chest.
A quiet grunt.
His scent—clean, crisp, and utterly distracting—filled her senses as she stumbled back.
Eunwoo turned slightly, his dark eyes locking onto hers with something unreadable, something heavy. Andrea swallowed.
"Are you always this clumsy?" His voice was low, smooth, but there was a trace of amusement in it.
She straightened, ignoring the way her heart was now hammering against her ribs. "Are you always this fast?" she shot back, crossing her arms.
He arched a brow, watching her with quiet scrutiny before exhaling and shaking his head. "You should pay more attention."
"You should stop walking like you're running from something."
Something flickered in his eyes. He looked away first, gripping his suitcase handle a little tighter. "I don't run from anything."
Andrea tilted her head, watching him carefully. His jaw had tightened, a telltale sign that he wasn't entirely unaffected.
"Sure," she said, her voice teasing.
Eunwoo sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning back to the door. "Just get inside."
The tension between them thickened as he swiped the key card. Andrea watched his profile, his sharp jawline, the way his lips parted slightly in frustration.
She bit her lower lip to suppress her smirk.
Maybe she liked getting under his skin a little too much.
And maybe… just maybe, he didn't mind.
Let me know if you want any more details added! 😊