50 Shades of Park Jimin

Chapter 4

I am suddenly very awake, my erotic dream forgotten.

"I was on my front. I must've turned over in my sleep." I whisper weakly in my defense.

His eyes blaze with furry. He reaches down, scoops up my bikini top from his sun lounger and tosses it to me.

"Put this on!" He hisses.

"Jimin, no one is looking."

"Trust me. They're looking. I'm sure Taehyung and the security crew are enjoying the show!" He snarls.

Holy shit! Why do I keep forgetting about them? I grasp my breasts in panic, hiding them. Ever since Charlie Tango's sabotaged demise, we are constantly shadowed by damned security.

"Yes," Jimin snarls, "And some sleazy fucking paparazzi could get a shot of you, too. Do you want to be all over the cover of a Star magazine? Naked this time?"

Shit! Paparazzi! Fuck! As I hurriedly scramble into my top, all thumbs, the color drains from my face. I shudder. The unpleasant memory of being besieged by the paparazzi outside SIP after our engagement was leaked comes unwelcome to mind—all part of the Jimin Park package.

"Jimin, look around. There's nothing but boobs for as far as the eye can see. It's boobs in Boobland."

"L'addition!" Jimin snaps at the passing waitress. "We're going," he says to me.

"Now?"

"Yes. Now."

Oh shit, he's not to be argued with.

He pulls on his shorts, even though his trunks are dripping wet, then his gray T-shirt. The waitress is back in a moment with his credit card and the check.

Reluctantly, I wiggle into my turquoise sundress and step into my flip-flops.

Once the waitress has left, Jimin snatches up his book and Blackberry and masks his fury behind mirrored aviator glasses. He's bristling with tension and anger. My heart sinks. Every other woman on the beach is topless. It's not that big of a crime. In fact, I look odd with my top on. I sigh inwardly, my spirits sinking. I thought Jimin would see the funny side. . .sort of. . .maybe if I'd stayed on my front, but his sense of humor has evaporated.

"Please don't be mad at me," I whisper, taking his book and BlackBerry from him and placing them in my backpack.

"Too late for that," he says quietly— too quietly. "Come." Taking my hand, he signals up to Taehyung and his two sidekicks, the French security officers Philippe and Gaston. Weirdly, they are identical twins. They have been patiently watching us and everyone else on the beach from the verandah. Why do I keep forgetting about them? How? Taehyung is stony- faced behind his dark glasses. Shit, he's mad at me, too. I'm still not used to seeing him so casually dressed in shorts and a black polo shirt.

Jimin leads me into the hotel, through the lobby and out onto the street.

He remains silent, brooding and bad- tempered, and it's all my fault. Taehyung and his team shadow us.

"Where are we going?" I ask tentatively, gazing up at him.

"Back to the boat." He doesn't look at me.

I have no idea of the time. I think it must be about five or six in the afternoon.

When we reach the marina, Jimin leads me onto the dock where the motorboat and Jet Ski belonging to the Fair Lady are moored. As Jimin unties the Jet Ski, I hand my backpack to Taehyung. I glance nervously up at him, but like Jimin, his expression gives nothing away. I flush, thinking about what he's seen on the beach.