|I wanna go out|

He was indeed playing a dangerous game.

Turning the chair back, he motioned the employees to proceed. 

"Miss. Richha is still not cooperating with her agent," the employee said, shaking her head.

"Mr Takeshi is creating issues as well."

"We would end Miss. Richie's contract, don't worry. About Mr Takeshi, I am still considering him. I already have told you, that you aren't their slaves or ours. We pay you, don't own you. If it makes you know your place, then I will say that Park Vision wouldn't have been here without you all, so stand up for yourself. Don't bring those petty problems into meetings. Learn to not let some money-loaded pricks taunt you. Moving on fu-

A loud whang was heard before the glass door burst open, flinching every being out of their skin, including Jimin. The shadowy goddess graced the room with her presence, drawing Jimin's jaw to the floor for two reasons.

First, she fucking couldn't be seen. That was her demand which he made sure to nail in his head.

Second, she was looking steamy and lecherous in that little spaghetti black dress. Her starlight skin was exposed. The pair of slender legs peeking at him coyly, urging him to caress them. Her satiny neck where his lips—

His first instinct was to wrap her in a gift wrapping paper and toss her down the building and the second was to splay her down on the table and feast on her. Slowly and torturously to punish her. 

Leona pushed her shades and smiled, directly looking at him as if mocking him—See don't challenge me again, asshole. "Hey, I wanna go out."

When we are told not to do something, we are tempted to do the exact thing and even take pictures while doing it. It was one hobby of Leona. 

She loved forbidden stuff. She loved breaking rules and challenges. So when the Casanova dared her to showcase her courage, Leona walked inside the packed conference room, decked like a diva, treating the polished tiles like her red carpet.

The way Jimin's eyes racked down her body, and his shoulders tensed with rage, jaw clenched, skin bristled, everything about him in the moment of anger, intrigued her. 

Now, that was the specific fallout she was expecting. 

"Chul." His sturdy voice was cool as glaze; frosting, unnerving, sexy.

As Chul moved to escort her out, Leona let out, "Last night when you drank your ass o-"

"Break. Everyone out. Now." Jimin commanded graciously, his voice not raising an octave, and yet with startling vaults, employees began vacating the conference room at their boss's silent demand.

Leona waddled in further, solely being oblivious to the stares from the people, her joshing gaze was convened at the blitzed man.

Damn, it's fun to get on his nerves.

Chul sewed the door behind him, leaving them alone. The moment he was out, Jimin chastised him.

"Are you nuts? Okay, wait, don't answer that. You are!" he vociferates, slamming his hands on the table as she sat on the other end. "Leona are you still high or something? If it's your way to get back at me for kissing you then let me tell you it's childish, " he shrieked, glancing at the closed door.

Leona sneered, holding her hand up. "Hold your horse's boy, you didn't kiss me. You chickened out by turning your head."

Jimin unrolled his mouth, then closed it, frowning. "If memory serves me right then I remember my hands holding your tiny waist extremely tight, your breast flushed against my naked chest, your sexy moan when I kissed your neck, I guess that was your sweet spot, and then you chickened out."

Leona's heart skipped a beat when the flashes of the steamy few minutes struck like lightning in her mind. His hot coal lips trailed blazes on her skin, fiddling with her icy heart, his fingers digging in her hip bone, his body grinding against her. She clenched her thighs as blood dangerously swirled in her veins. 

It was her moment of weakness. The only thing she was slightly revealed about was that Jimin didn't mention the cuts on her wrist nor the pain in her eyes, which she was sure he witnessed.

That was the Leona she detested and Jimin saw a glimpse of her. Now, she wanted him to let slip the memory of the previous night's woman who was nearly pestle in his arms and remember this Leona; the one who could never get her eyes stained with tears, the one who was a strong lioness and not a broken mess.

"What? Can't get my touch out of your system?" he cocked his head to the side, and a raunchy smirk crept on his plump soft lips.

Leona rolled her eyes. "I wanna go out. To buy art supplies. Take me to whatever shop."

"And you couldn't wait until I finish the meeting?"

"Nah. If you ain't gonna drive me, I will go on my own. Trust me when I say this, you should be scared."

"The contract, Leona. If your identity is revealed, it's a breach of contract. Hell, if any one of my employees recognized yo-"

Leona laughed, shaking her head. "Snap out of it, Jimin. No one remembers me. I am practically dead."

Jimin halted, staring at her. "Who said no one remembers you?"

Again, that look. The look she despised. His enthralling eyes captivated her, as he voyaged his way to her soul, mentally unravelling her. This man already knew so much about her. Another thing and she would be done. At least he was not bringing the cuts on her wrists up, though she knew his curiosity was burning him. Jimin was smart enough to play along as if he didn't see her wrist or her unshed tears.

When she didn't respond, he said, "If we are going, it will be only you and me, no Ryan." 

Leona squinted her eyes. "Why? I can't risk it. What if you murdered me and threw my body in the river or woods?"

"Trust me, baby. I should be the one worrying about that. And just so you know, there's a camera in here which did capture you asking me to drive you. If something happened to me, you better ask Ryan to prepare to act as your lawyer."

"If I kill you, Jimin," she said, tapping her lips with her index finger and glimmering at him. "No one would ever know."

Jimin arched his eyebrows, "Why talk about killing each other if we could talk about undressing each other?"

Leona climbed off the long glassy table and flipped her hair. "In your dreams, Casanova. Let, 's go."

.

.

.

One more thing Leona learned about Jimin was that he was an organized man, he didn't like messy things. His lavish apartment didn't have a trace of dust and now his royally prolific car was highly orchestrated in a definite manner; simply, classy and licentious. 

Like him.

She gazed at him as he drove them.

He looked drop-dead handsome. Leona encountered men who were god's favourite in the department of their looks, but something about Jimin tickled her chest.

His essence was virile. His stormy eyes that the mists in mountains envied, the plump lips spitting the smooth words like no other men could, powerful shoulders bearing the responsibility of steering a company, smile holding the happiness of his family. 

"As much as I am enjoying it, you need to stop staring cause it's turning me on," Jimin said, shooting a quick wink at her.

Leona's face enriched the hue of red, burning her saffron-meadow cheeks. Clearing her throat, she demanded, "Give me your phone."

"Nope. The last time you had it, it didn't go well," he drove his fingers through the silk lustrous tresses, flipping them back.

"Why? Did what's her fucking name upset? Aww."

Jimin darted at her with a bitter look. "If you want to talk about me," his eyes lingered on her extra-long gloves that ran up her elbows. "I have millions of things to talk about you, Leona. The things you would love to bring up."

That was the last thing said in the long one-hour drive. 

Park's Art Emporium was established in between the yard of roses and tulips. The crystalline shop was extensively huge, built with fine tinted glasses of various iridescence. The staff was highly professional with their appearance and speech as they strolled in.

When Jimin walked in with her, she felt him placing his hand on her lower back and she flinched even though she didn't mean to. A look of throb passed on his face and he quickly apologized, "I am sorry. It wasn't intentional."

I know.

Without any utterance, she looked around the radiant rows. Sunlight seeping in through the tinted glasses sprinkled on colours and the pheromone of paints enlivens her mood.

Jimin breathed in deeply.  "It's been a while since I came here. The scent of paints is better than any expensive perfumes."

"Yes," she agreed with a smile, allowing her dimples to pop in her cheeks. Her hands picked various art materials, especially brushes and palettes.

"You need brushes? I noticed your paintings are mostly carved with your fingers," Jimin remarked, making sure his voice was low. 

Leona hummed. "Paintbrushes aren't my thing. But I noticed a lot of them in your office. Is it for a show, or do you use them?"

Jimin leaned over the titled wall, holding his blazer in his hand and watching the sedative gleam in her phenomenal eyes. "I use them, of course."

"You paint?"

"I do, I paint women's fantasies with my colours," he winked, a philandering smile earned him another eye roll. He chuckled lightly, saying, "Okay, so I paint. But instead of canvas, I am specialized in glass, wall painting, and designing. Mostly acrylic paints are my thing."

Leona gave him a look, picking up six colour palettes. "Glass paints are hard to tame."

Tayson shrugged. "If you skilled it once, then not much. Ronald taught me when I was in high school."

She quickly shuffled to another shelf, not wanting to get emotional at the mention of Ronald. She loaded a basket with twelve palettes and fifty packets of brushes.

Jimin followed her, not comprehending when her handbag was in his hands as she shopped. Leona ceased near the paint stall, and her eyes turned blind to all colours except her black. 

Jimin stood behind her, closer than he was resolved to as he look over her shoulder. She felt his warmth, the woodsy perfume he always revelled in. He smelled like the cool soil after making out with fresh rain; like petrichor, her favourite scent. Without a second thought, she leaned her body into him. His firm chest softly welcomed her, offering the warmth she suddenly carved.

"I wanted to talk to you about this a long back, but I didn't get a chance," he spoke lowly near her ear, sizzling her spine with electric ebbs. 

"What?" she asked, not appearing bothered by the proximity. She wanted him to know that he didn't affect her.

But what a delicious white lie it was.

"It's about your painting style." He hesitated, dropping his voice even low, slipping the texture of huskiness in his tone. "I want you to use colours, Leona."

She almost swivelled around to face him. "Not happen-"

Jimin clasped his hands on her shoulders in a cosy grip, not allowing her to face him. He dropped his head over the curve of her neck. "Just look at these tints and paints, doesn't it tempt you, seduce you to chisel them down on your blank canvas?"

His lips brushed against the tattoo on her neck as he pressed his chest into her back. Leona could feel the tendrils of his touch drenching her brain cells and crumbling the wall, enticing her to shed the veil.

"No. I hate them," she admitted, closing her eyes. For some reason, his touch wasn't salacious but coaxing.

"Cause once you loved them too much?" 

"Yes."

Jimin smiled against her skin. "Then, I will make you fall for them, again."

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