WANG JANGFEI'S P.O.V

10 October 2024
Tuseday
At JEON MANSION

Breathe, breathe, breathe, Fie, just fucking breathe.

You're gonna go and ask Mr. Jeonggukk for his number, and that's OK? OK?! Yeah, OK?

OK?

I am not OK-ahhh!!!

I paced around the grand entrance of the mansion, which was ethereal as fuck-oops, I mean, was magnificently beautiful, attracting the eye of a beauty connoisseur. Yeah, that's me.

WTF am I babbling about? I'm here to get my demon's number. Why? Because I don't know shit about my boss and I'm about to go on a trip with him to the city of art, passion, and fashion.

Oh, that rhymed.

Pff.

I should be taking this seriously. Yeah, puffing my chest with air, I exhaled loudly, catching the attention of a guard. I smiled awkwardly at him and hurriedly took my steps toward Mr. Jeonggukk's mansion.

It's OK, Fie, it's OK. Just get in and ask. After all, Mr. Jeonggukk is your best friend now...

Really?? Is he? My inner brain mocked me.

I don't know if that predator is capable of being a friend or not, but I'm taking the risk. I have nothing to lose, to be honest. The loop of my life has been the same:

Try, try, try-then fail.

I try to be happy. I try to cope. I try to deal with it, and then, boom-fate always seems to mock me. A sarcastic laugh slipped out of my lips.

"What's so funny, chocolate cake lover?" I flinched hard, grasping my chest in fear. My breaths became ragged. WTF, who scares people like that?

I turned around to find the predator, the menacing demon figure beside me, his freshly bathed hair dripping with sinful water drops from his forehead, taking my breath away for a moment. His siren-black eyes, shining like diamonds, screamed danger. He glanced down at me with a small hint of malice, yet a softened shine there to calm my nerves. His brow raised in question. Mr. Jeonggukk's shirt, stretched across his buffed, taut body, had buttons that looked ready to burst free.

Fucking hell. Damn.

Focus, Fie, focus.

I gulped and stepped backward to maintain a good space-for my own sanity.

Why do both brothers drive me crazy?

Focus-

I smiled wobbly. "Haha, Mr. Jeon, such a great day, yeah?" I exclaimed with fake enthusiasm, praying he wouldn't notice my 0% effort at acting. Still smiling like a dumbass.

His sinful brow raised in amusement, and he chuckled huskily, folding those ripped arms over his buff chest, muscles bulging beneath his shirt. Am I checking him out? He's just standing there!

"Little girl, your act isn't going to save you. Tell me why you're here?" he asked, moving forward to a shelf where different types of wines, champagnes, and whiskey stood. Was he drinking in the morning?

He filled a glass and gulped it down, his jaw flexing. Oh God, Fie, please focus.

"Why are you drinking in the morning? It's not good," I asked. Because why not? Let's dig my own grave.

"Mhm." He downed another one and pinned me with his penetrating gaze. I stepped back. "And you think you can stop me, Choco?"

Choco? WTF kind of name is that?

Wait, is that a bandage peeking out from his chest? I gasped. "You were hurt, Mr. Jeon?" I asked, worried.

He glanced down at his chest, raised a brow, and shrugged like it was nothing. "Just got scraped, that's all. Why are you all worked up?" He tilted his head, completely uninterested in the injury, like a beast.

"Because...because I think of you as a friend," I mumbled.

He looked taken aback by my confession. His face etched with different emotions, the lack of affection shown in his eyes, the mystery of loneliness, longing clinging deeply-I could see the pain that breaks you in pieces, the detachment that makes you vulnerable. But he was good-good at coping with the pain. I wasn't. That's what I admired in Mr. Jeonggukk. He was the definition of enduring pain, holding supremacy over agony and destruction.

"Aren't you scared of me, Choco? I might kill you in the blink of an eye," he gruffed in his deep, mesmerizing voice that should've scared me, but my heart denied his power of intimidation.

I smiled wide, showing all my teeth, and nodded. "Yeah, I know, but wouldn't your morals stop you from disgracing your superiority of intimidation?" I grinned, knowing that, as far as I knew, he didn't hurt those who didn't interfere with his work.

His red, rosy lips cracked into a small smirk, and he nodded knowingly. "Then friend it is," he said, raising his glass. "Now, what's your wish, friend? Ask whatever you want." He gulped the champagne. I sharply inhaled.

Ask, ask, Fie, ask.

"Uhmm, can I...uhmm-" Fuck, Fie, don't fumble, baby. I scolded myself.

He tilted his head, frowning. "Is someone bothering you? Tell me their name." He moved out and grasped his gun-hotly, I mean, dangerously-and fixed it behind his back.

"Ah, no, no, it's just that I want someone's number," I mumbled quietly, fiddling with my manicured nails. Yeah, I got them done for the trip-off topic.

I glanced up to see him but didn't find him. Where did he disappear to?

"Whose number?"

"JESUS CHRIST OF HEAVEN'S! OHHHA LORD, STOP SCARING ME, MR. JEON, OUT OF NOWHERE, PLEASEEE!" My heart raced as he appeared behind me from God knows where.

As I looked at his face, it was etched with irritation. His index finger covered his ear as he grumbled, "Fuck, Choco, you almost made me deaf. If it were someone else, I would've twisted their neck without thinking." He glared at me, and I quickly avoided his gaze.

"Now, tell me whose number you want because I have to kill someone, so say it fast," he demanded, checking his Rolex.

"Uhmm, your number," I said.

"Mine?"

"Uhm, yes." As soon as I said it, his face shifted, revealing a confusing mix of emotions.

"Why?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion and the complexities of trust and vulnerability hidden beneath the tension in his demeanor.

His blazing dark eyes stared intensely at me, a silent question lingering in them. He didn't say anything, just let his hot, dominating frame loom in front of me. His deep eyes, filled with something dark and unreadable, held an unspoken command. The normal expression he usually wore changed palpably. "Why do you want my number, Choco?" That name—that *fucking* name—hit so differently. I didn't know why.

The way his voice carried both intimidation and a strangely familiar endearment amazed me. His cold, predatory eyes, now laced with confusion, made me shiver. Summoning what little courage I had, I finally faced him.

"Uh, I won't beat around the bush, Mr. Jeon," I softly let out, causing the corner of his lips to lift slightly as he stepped closer, invading my personal space.

"And that's what I want," he said, his sultry words spilling effortlessly from his lips.

Sighing deeply, I looked up at him. He doesn't like cowards; he likes people who look him in the eye, whatever they have to say, letting all transparency lay bare before him. "Mr. Jeon, Jungkook, my boss, and I are going on a trip." I saw a flicker of tension; his jaw clenched, tightening the muscles of his already stunning face.

"So, what should I do about it? I already know. That's why I taught you Italian, Choco," he said, and my heart skipped a beat at the sound of that name.

"Uhm, yeah, but I want your number because..." I stammered.

"Because?" He raised his brow, his sharp eyes squinting under the shimmering mansion lights that only heightened his intimidating presence. His veiny hands tucked into his pockets as he stared into my soul, making me shiver. I was scared of him, but at the same time, his presence gave me a strange sense of assurance.

His face etched with irritation, my breaths grew heavy with panic. I was terrified that I had annoyed him. My lips were bitten raw, my breathing rapid.

You came here for a reason, Fie. Ask it. Just ask.

But how? I could barely breathe.

I gasped when he gripped my hand in his veiny, taut, and strapping grasp with firm authority. I flinched as his thick brows furrowed, and the dripping dominance in his eyes took my breath away. "You're not breathing. Calm down," he said, and I exhaled the breaths that had been stuck for a good minute.

He sighed and retracted his hand, folding his arms across his chest, blinking slowly as he waited for me to say what I had come for. "Give me a reason why you want my number," he demanded. It wasn't a question—it was an order.

JUST SAY IT.

"As you know, Mr. Jungkook is not exactly a fan of me, which leads to consequences I don't deserve," I started, and he nodded in acknowledgment. I continued, "I—I never had someone, or anyone. I just—just thought I could talk to you during this trip. No one ever really cared before. I know, I know you—you don't think much of me, but... that day, your words comforted me. They really helped. And I just feel like having your assurance would help me stay calm. I think of you as a friend... which I haven't had in a long time. I'll accept your rejection if you don't want to be my friend, but I'd be grateful if you accepted."

I let all the words, all the emotions, pour out. His presence was predatory, yet the assurance in his gestures was undeniable. I couldn't help but think he was there for me. I kept my head lowered, fearing his reaction, gripping my phone tightly.

A warm hand pressed softly against my bowed head, gently tilting it up. Mr. Jeongguk stood right in front of me, much closer than should be legal. The closeness was tantalizing, almost too hot to handle. My breath hitched. His dark, penetrating eyes stared into mine, stripping away any last bit of composure I had. "You want to be friends with me?" he asked, his deep, throaty voice sending shivers down my spine.

I nodded, scared yet thrilled.

His head dipped slightly as a soft chuckle left his lips. His veiny hand, which had been resting on my head, slid to my shoulder. The warmth of his touch made my heart race.

I gulped, waiting for his answer, but he just kept staring at me. His dominating figure loomed over me, his warm hand still on my shoulder, making my nerves pulse harder. "I kill people, and they hate me. I might do something that makes you hate me too, Choco. Do you still want this?" His deep voice carried the weight of consequences that came with being his friend.

I knew the risks, and I accepted them. I nodded again in approval. His lips curved into a smirk as he took a step back.

That sly smirk kept me in a daze, but I couldn't help but smile a little. The understanding between us didn't need words, just like with a real friend who gets you. I felt that connection.

"Here." He handed me his phone, the luxurious device warm from his pocket.

"Type in your number and call yourself," he instructed before moving across the room to speak with his guards.

I opened his phone and scrolled through the call log. There were a few unknown numbers, Jungkook's, and a name—Jimin. I frowned. Doesn't he have anyone else to talk to?

As I glanced over at Mr. Jeongguk, our eyes met. He frowned and tilted his head, raising a brow, almost daring me to hurry up. I shivered and typed my number as fast as possible. Footsteps approached, and I quickly called myself from his phone before locking it.

A veiny hand retrieved it from my grasp. I looked up at him with a sheepish smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Jeongguk."

"Welcome, Choco."

With that, he walked away, off to tend to his sinful business.