Secrets are kept for many reasons. They can be kept to craft delightful surprises, to put a smile on the face of a loved one, to confess one's love with actions rather than words, to wrap the people we love in a blanket of affection warm enough to express our gratitude for their presence.

But the twisted reality is that secrets rarely serve to fulfill the above conditions; they serve to cast a shadow over wrong and shameful deeds rather than to provide rosy surprises; secrets serve to maintain some stability behind actions that are far from stable; disturbed, terrible, and just plain inhuman realities that are better kept in the darkness and ignorance of listening ears and attentive eyes.

And Taehyung had a secret that he preferred to keep hidden from his father's knowledge. Everything that happened in the cabin was on him, the result of his decisions, whether they were wrong or right, no longer mattered, because all that mattered was keeping the results only known to the people involved in the scene, and only highlight the positive outcome to his father.

Jung-Woo was not a mobster and definitely, raised no gangster to rule some shitty and fucked up underground; the man was a politician with a great reputation to maintain polished, he worked long, tedious years to have his name lauded by an entire country, gave up his businesses to fulfill the shining dream of making the Blue House his office, and he did it all so he would not have it all screwed up by his son's irrational bad decisions and lack of problem-solving sense.

It was a challenge that Jung-Woo had taken to evaluate his son's abilities. He was aware that it was a difficult task to bring the deputy on board, yet he entrusted him with the mission. He was not sure if Taehyung would deliver the required results, had his doubts proven wrong when the child brought the sealed contract to his office in their house.

But he didn't question the means, and Taehyung was happy that way.

That is, until he saw you.

He had hidden a secret and did everything he could to keep you out of his father's reach. He mobilized a troop to search for you and bring you back under his feet, silenced and tamed to keep your end of the bargain, only to find you standing tall and flourishing, radiating the sort of smile he had never seen on your lips since the two of you met.

The world is truly a small place.

Taehyung was happy, do not get him wrong, he was in fact, delighted that he had finally found you, reckoned that he would never let you out of his sight again and might reinforce the guards around you to prevent any unpleasant occurrences. He was happy all right, just not thrilled that you were his future wife.

Secrets are kept for many reasons, whether it's to keep a relationship from falling apart or to prevent pain from shuddering a loved one's heart. But in your case, the secret you kept was mainly to protect your job and prevent your life from falling apart.

To save yourself from shuddering to pieces or, at worst, thrown into the depths of the Han.

There was no denying that fear overcame you, that your palms grew moist, and for sure, your foundation started creasing; you wondered if your heartbeat was louder than the soft, melodic jazz in the background, but you decided to stop brooding when your eyes began another brooding of their own.

Taehyung was in full armor, a three-piece navy suit hugged every muscle and flaunted it to make your fears even greater; midnight locks slicked back and parted in the middle, allowing the lush bangs to caress his forehead without invading his eyes as they usually did; he was clad to conceal his true colors, but you were not blind to notice that he was nothing but an impostor.

He was a thug; this wasn't his place to be in.

"Yunjae, meet Kim Taehyung, the only son of the presumed nominee, Mr. Kim Jung-Woo and the chairman of Goryo Holding."

Your father's words took their sweet time to settle in your brain, while your eyes occupied it again and again, filling the memory space in your head with images of the man who held out his hand to you. You walked around making arrangements with a man you thought you knew; you assumed he was no better than the criminals in Seoul's prison and convinced yourself that he would soon be wearing the same gray sweater and staying away from you, only to be proven wrong in the premises of a luxurious restaurant he had reserved for the evening of your engagement.

But really, the irony, though!

Cats seldom ate people's tongues. Of course, that was a figurative speech often used between arguing couples or friends, or between ladies at tea-time gossip, but cats were merely cute pets that would never dare touch a human being; however, Taehyung would swear his tongue got ripped to pieces by the ferocious feline that was the unfolding situation; he could have hidden his discomfort with a fake grin, as he often did in business meetings, and frankly, it added to his frustration that he could not handle the matter the way he usually did, even though it was no different from a business meeting.

A business meeting where his life was at stake.

A conflict of interest, he would argue.

Your words however, were like your touches, they healed; they sewed the wound in his tongue, but hard and without anesthesia; he should have known that medicine is bitter; should have remembered how much it burned when his mother applied rubbing alcohol to his wounds, but he could not have anticipated the whining the way he had as a child, and there was an excuse for his ignorance in this whole matter; his father never told him who his bride was going to be, nor did he bother to investigate, but there was no excuse to the fact that he indulged in his ignorance more than necessary and thought that when you'd alleviate the silence, his words would find their lost path.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Kim," you stretched your hands enveloping his in a handshake that occurred for the second time since you met, although you had been in each other's presence more than twice; in fact, you have met so many times that you would consider yourselves friends were it not for your differing viewpoints and pending problems, "my name is Lee Yunjae."

He knew it very well, boy, how he could not forget for a second the name that robbed him of sleep and worried him about a possible change of residence from Apgujeong to a strict prison in Incheon. Figuring that the same person was also the reason for his uneasiness about losing the love of his life, and the imprisonment, so much like that of a jail but ruled by a judge who shackled him with a family book instead of handcuffs, enraged him beyond measure.

"Pleasure is mine," his hands were cold as he held yours with a certain pressure that was anything but necessary, but they were not clammy, no, not like yours; in fact, you could see no nervousness in his eyes, unimpressed by the gravity of events and the enormity of coincidence, if the machinations of fate can be called coincedence at all; shoulders broad and squared, chin up, to prove that your presence was zero in an equation he could calculate in record time and without concentration, and to tell you with actions rather than words that your disappearance was something he allowed, or perhaps did not care much about.

"Please have a seat," Jung-Woo chimed.

Secrets are hard to unravel once they are buried in the depths of silence, once they are shrouded in the coffin of the past and overrun by a hurried future. But as you watched the rest of the people around the table interact harmoniously, or more specifically, as you watched Taehyung gain your father's acceptance, you wanted nothing more than to reveal his dirty secret and yours; you wanted to tell them that the chairman of Goryo tended to play in the dark when the theater's projectors were off, not minding at all if the world caught a whiff of your revelation in the process.

It only mattered that the unmasking would free you, and you wanted that very much.

It is said that couples tend to tune in and share habits and sometimes thoughts when their love overflow, but it seemed that all you needed was an announcement of engagement to coordinate your actions. Taehyung shared your same thoughts as he waved his food around after catching your gaze; he felt the daggers you hurled at him, and without fear he welcomed the reproving bullets that set his body on fire; Taehyung considered stepping aside from this entire dinner, and tell his father that he would accept anyone else, but that you were a big fat no-no to him, but as he swallowed his wine while burning you with his scrutinizing gaze laced with pensiveness, he reckoned that if he was going to be forced into marriage, he might as well marry you and force you into submission.

There was no better way to get the two chirping birds down from the branch than this.

Saving his lover from humiliation and keeping your mouth shut and under control.

"I think there's no need to introduce further the reason we are here tonight," Jung-Woo drew the attention of those present. He grinned broadly as he looked at you and his son with what you deciphered as an ill-placed love, "this marriage will bring success and joy to both families, and I am glad we have come to this agreement."

The commanding look he gave his son was impossible to miss, even if you wanted to pretend to be blind so as not to see that your future husband was the same person who had kidnapped you and silenced you with a pistol and a sharp slap. You wished not to see it, but your wishes fell on deaf ears when you saw your nightmare become reality and your assailant rise from his seat, slide a hand into the inside pocket of his vest, take out a velvet black box and stand in the center of the table, facing his father while sneaking dangerously close to your seat.

Jung-Woo encouraged with a small nod, while your mother raised her glass of wine with a broad grin. It was all fake but well acted, making you doubt your sanity, wonder when your parents became actors worthy of their own star in Hollywood, and forget your fiancé's advances and the hand he put over your shoulder.

There was a demand of protectiveness that you were used to seek from your father as a child, and unconsciously, you did it again when Taehyung pulled your hand from its tight grip around the dessert fork, and made you stand in front of him. To say that you were disappointed that your father ignored your plea for help and shrugged as he sipped his wine instead of rescuing you, would be a vast understatement; it wasn't a new discovery that you were alone in this world, but the realization neither lessened your disappointment nor helped to reduce your fears.

And there was a promise Taehyung had made to Katarina every time he made love to her since they met, that he'd never give his name to another woman and that no name behind his would sound better than hers, but when he pulled the ring out of the little box, he was struck again by the realization of his broken promise and lost love.

It's for you; for us; it's all for us.

For our love, Kat.

Taehyung's smile was mirthless as he tenderly grasped your hand, making you wonder if the man standing in front of you, gently touching you, was the same one whose rough hands had pulled the trigger and fired at strangers, if they were the same hands that took away your purse and forced you to violate your moral compass and the law to keep breathing, "I vow the best for our families, Lee Yunjae."

It was hushed, almost inaudible, and you'd even argue that his facial expression contradicted the words he spoke; nevertheless, another fake smile forced itself on your face, and when he carefully put the ring on your finger, you nodded to avoid your father's wrath.

He was watching you, and you could swear he was wordlessly threatening you throughout the interaction. He had made it clear that it was either his way or the highway, and when Taehyung began to finish what the contract your father had signed had started, you figured you wished to throw a lot of other people on the highway, but not yourself; no, not yet.

Your hands parted slowly but deliberately, taking their sweet time to leave each other's warmth; there was no need to prolong the moment; it burned your skin with hatred and complicated feelings that neither of you wanted to dive into, and that was for the best.

The weight of the glowing object on his finger made him groan from the heaviness, to the point where he doubted his strength. It had been a while since he went to the gym, with everything that was going on in his life, but suddenly he thought that a few lessons in weightlifting were necessary to keep up with everything he was carrying, both physically and emotionally.

There was no reason to complain, he had you under his thumb, and it was much more convenient than to expend the energy of his men by guarding you; you belonged to him by name, and all that remained were a few perfunctory vows; he was sure that you'd not go astray and spill the beads.

But it wasn't easy to accept the reality, and for a moment he wished it was all a dream. He wanted to believe the wish, just like you, but the sparkling ring brought him back from his dream, just like it did to you.

"How did it go, my friend?" Yoongi asked as he plopped down on the sofa.

"I'm being held by the balls," Taehyung announced, leaning back into the comfort of the sofa and bringing the rim of the glass to his lips to take a sip of his poison of choice before pursuing, "Expect it is not a pleasant feeling by any means, but rather frustrating."

"That's good, I suppose," Yoongi offered as he tossed his cigarette into the ashtray, "Frustration is good for sexual anticipation; after all, you're going to have to fulfill your duties and perform to the best of your ability."

"Yeah, might as well start practicing on you. Guess it would be helpful to test my abilities to keep my marriage safe." Taehyung deadpanned as he straightened his posture, "What you've got on my woman? You've been so slow, Yoongi, that it cost me so much; I'm pondering whether or not you deserve your fat ass check."

"It's not my fault if your father-in-law is so strict," Yoongi reflected, "he keeps his lawyer's mouth shut, but the good news is that at least now you know who she's."

Taehyung had felt better in the past with Yoongi's comfort, but the man's words didn't reassure him in the least as he took off his vest to vent some of his frustration, "Keep it short, Yoongi; I know you have something up your sleeve."

Taehyung wasn't wrong: your father wouldn't prevent Yoongi from achieving what he wanted; he'd have slowed his pace but not made it impossible.

"I hesitate to break this news to you, but you won the bet; she'd rather sleep with a snake than marry you," Yoongi put one leg over the other as he was blessed with the kind of comfort Taehyung was ridden off, "I might have found something, Taehyung, but," he echoed, sipping his bourbon, "she's wild; not your cup of tea, not someone you can tame."

Taehyung didn't want Yoongi to know about his feats, but seeing how negative he was about the whole thing without knowing the truth made him feel hopeless.

"Then find me a weak point and pressure it," came Taehyung's voice low and imperious, implying that this wasn't a joke in case Yoongi made light of it through a misunderstanding. "I want a yes in the church and nothing else, and you'll take care of any obstacles," he leaned closer, propping his upper body on his elbows as his eyes devoured the man across from him, "and I'll not take failure lightly, Yoongi."

A/N

Long time no see, folks. How are you doing? how's the scorching season treating you?

Sorry it took me longer to update this time, but the good news is, the next chapter is ready and just needs some slight modifications before I publish it.

Be generous with your comments and votes, they're my source of motivation.

💜