DANCE WITH THE DEVIL

CHAPTER 3

"That's all. You may go," Jaemin said, dismissing the meeting with a wave of his hand.

He leaned back in his chair, massaging his temples, ready to close his eyes for a moment of peace when heavy footsteps approached.

"Jaemin."

He looked up, raising an eyebrow at the newcomer.

Mark stood there, exasperation etched across his face. "You kissed her."

"Who?" Jaemin feigned innocence, but a smirk tugged at his lips.

"My sister."

Jaemin leaned back, a nonchalant look on his face. "It just happened."

"Jaemin, she was drunk!" Mark shot back. "And you weren't. You drove her home."

"Barely," Jaemin replied, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "I was a little tipsy myself."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

Jaemin shut his eyes for a brief moment, then stood up with a tired grunt. "What do you want me to do? Apologize?"

"You don't get it," Mark said, incredulity washing over him.

"I get it. She's your sister."

"And you should've stopped."

"I did stop," Jaemin replied coolly. "If I hadn't, we would have crossed a line."

"Jaemin." Mark took a deep breath, struggling to remain calm. "Just stay away from her."

"Why?" Jaemin flashed a challenging grin. "Afraid she'll find out about the dirty business you and your dad are involved in? Poor thing—I could give her everything, even the truth."

"Jaemin Devon Na." Mark's voice was a low growl, barely containing his fury. "Don't forget you owe your life to my father. Without his help, you'd be nothing. And without me, you'll never stand a chance against your brother. So back off from my family before things get messy."

At that, Jaemin's grin vanished. His eyes narrowed, and his expression hardened.

Mark glared at him, then turned on his heel and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind him.

Jaemin tilted his head back, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek, then fished a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, taking a long drag.

He didn't want to lose his cool—not now, not ever.

Because if he did, he wasn't sure what he might do. Or what he was capable of.

─────♚─────

The afternoon sun filtered through the living room windows as Areum sprawled on the couch, her head resting comfortably on Renjun's lap. Her legs draped over her best friend Jeno, who pretended to ignore her.

Chenle lounged on another couch, munching on a bag of chips, glancing at the two with mild amusement.