Indebted...

Part-11

Jungkook's pov

I tried not to gawk as we walked from room to room. The high ceilings had intricate rose moldings and pretty lighting. The neutral colors gave the open, airy rooms a welcoming ethos. The large windows flooded the place with natural light, adding to the inviting feel.

The scents of polish, floor wax, and artificial fragrances laced the air. He had to hire cleaners, because there was no dust or clutter to be seen. I doubted Taehyung went around dusting and mopping.

The den and two living rooms all had plasma screens, feature fireplaces, ample luxury seating, and beautiful artwork. The formal dining room, high-tech media room, and oversized, commercial-grade kitchen were equally impressive. It wasn't until he showed me the two-floored library with its walls of books and winding staircase that I felt a case of true envy. God, I'd love this room. I'd happily sleep in it. Live in it.

As I took a quick walk around, I knew I'd be spending a lot of my free time in here. Not that I had much of it, but still. "Where did you get all these books?"

"Most of them were kieun appa's," replied Taehyung. "Come on, the tour isn't yet over."

He showed me the wine cellar, safe room, indoor pool, home office, well-outfitted gym, and, finally, the bedrooms. There were six, in total. He didn't show me the inside of his own bedroom, just pointed at the closed door and said, "That's my room. Now I'll show you where you'll be staying." He led me to the opposite end of the wide hall and motioned me through a partially open door.

Stepping inside, I almost gasped. He'd said I'd have a bed, a closet, a set of drawers, and a workstation. He hadn't mentioned the antique dressing table, the cozy fireplace, the private bathroom, the reading nook with the lush recliner, or that the bed was a luxurious queen-sized, Frenchstyle antique.

Advancing further into the room, I peeked into the walk-in closet. Shit, it was bigger than my kitchen. The walls were lined with racks, shelves, and mirrors, and it even had a shoe carousel.
Exiting the closet, I realized he hadn't moved from the bedroom doorway. "Has someone been using this room?" Because it didn't feel like a standard guest room, and it didn't look as basic as the others.

"No," he replied simply, setting my suitcase on the floor.

"This stuff is all new?"

"Yes," he said, like it was no big deal. But it was. Because it meant he'd furnished this room with me in mind. He hadn't needed to do that at all. A generic guest room would have suited me fine.

I swallowed. "Thank you." I didn't know what else to say.

He shrugged. "You had to give up your home. The least I could do was make sure you had a decent room."

It was a hell of a lot more than "decent."

"You hungry?"

I shook my head. My stomach was still tied up in knots after the break-in. "No, but thanks."

"I have a few calls I need to make. Get settled and then come find me when you're ready to eat." With that, he was gone.

Plopping my ass on the bed, I skimmed my fingers along the cool, gold, satin sheets. It was unbelievable to think that people really lived in places like this.

I lay back on the bed. And almost groaned in delight. It was so damn soft and comfy it would have lured me to sleep if I wasn't so mentally wired.

I still couldn't quite believe he'd gone to all this trouble to make sure I felt comfortable. He wasn't exactly Mr. Considerate. He was so selffocused that he generally didn't bother to even ask himself how another person might be feeling. Whatever his motivation for this, I was grateful.