Mafia's Caretaker; The Devil's Cure

#11 Living with him?

Edited version 🖤🦋

"Finally."

Y/N muttered under her breath as she stepped out of Jungkook’s room, sucking in deep breaths like she had just escaped from drowning. She had completely forgotten to breathe inside. It was as if the air itself refused to exist in the presence of that man.

Jeon Jungkook was a menace. A walking, talking, breathing disaster.

Actually, scratch that. He was a devil in human skin.

The kind that didn’t even need to lift a finger to steal the air from her lungs. One glare, one smirk, and boom—suffocation. How was that even possible? It defied science, logic, and basic human rights.

Unbelievable.

She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her racing heartbeat, but her mind was still whirling with frustration. What had she just gone through? A business meeting? A verbal war? Or was that some kind of endurance test for her sanity?

The momentary relief of escaping his room was short-lived. As soon as she processed everything that had happened, her relaxed expression morphed into pure outrage.

She had succeeded in feeding him dinner, but at what cost? The audacity, the sheer, blinding audacity of that man to order her to stand until he finished eating. As if she was some decorative piece in his overpriced room.

What did he think she was? A lamp? A mannequin? A glorified coat rack?

The cruelty he had just displayed was something she couldn’t endure.

At least, not without plotting her revenge.

Y/N sucked in another deep breath, mentally restraining herself from storming back into that room, grabbing the roasted chicken from his plate, and shoving every single piece into his mouth until he choked on his own arrogance.

Would he still be able to command her after being force-fed like a toddler?

Doubtful.

But then again… she wasn’t cruel. Okay? She was a decent human being. She had morals.

All these aggressive, borderline violent thoughts? Yeah, those were just side effects of prolonged exposure to Jeon Jungkook. Like a virus.

Or maybe a parasite.

She should get tested. Maybe there was an antidote.

"How can someone be so damn authoritative and dominant?" she muttered, rolling her eyes so hard she nearly saw her past life.

Oh, right.

The perfect example of that? Jeon Jungkook, the Mafia King himself.

Y/N scoffed at her own thoughts. Was she seriously describing him like some legendary historical figure? What next? A biography? Jeon Jungkook: The Man Who Terrorized My Life and Stole My Oxygen?

Ugh.

She groaned, shaking her head. Why was she like this?

Why was she still thinking about him?

Why was she standing here, fuming like a cartoon character whose head was about to explode?

No. Enough. She needed to escape before she lost the last two brain cells she had left.

After making a series of dramatic, exaggerated facial expressions that no one was around to witness, she stomped off toward the kitchen.

The dishes were waiting.