Open For Business || J.JK

4

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

♫ 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚- 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙠𝙚𝙣𝙙 ♫

  I can't look Christopher in the eyes as it happens. It's too unbearable to watch. I can't look at his expression as he stands with a dark spot on the center of his dress pants.

Or as Jeon Jungkook himself grabs a fist full of his shirt and drags him out through the door. Whatever he says to him, it's unclear to me. My ears are buzzing.

At some point the room is dark and quiet again. The door is somehow shut.

I have my first full breath in what might be a few minutes and take in the room around me.

He's taken his place. His legs spread apart, veins pulsing in his hands and he rests them on his thighs. I meet his eyes.

I swallow past the thickness of what used to be my throat.

"You were doing so good." He breaks the silence.

Suddenly I want to throw up.

"I-"

"I don't want anymore apologies from you, Red." He admits.

"Please." Is all I can let out. "I didn't-"

"Same thing goes for excuses." His eyes drifted around the room lazily, as if he were contemplating something. The same pointer finger that usually settles on his lip sprung into action before he spoke. "I really don't know what to do with you. I mean, one second I'm grinning in my office at your success. My men have been coming upstairs all night just to give me updates on how much you've brought in tonight. And then I get a call from a bouncer."

Our eyes meet again. This time, his are firm and undecided. Mine are cautious and fidgeting.

"Who told me he heard moaning." He chuckled darkly and shook his head. "My brain told me it couldn't be you. Since you're a smart woman. But he gave a description."

I opened my mouth to speak but he didn't allow me an opening to get a word in. He wants to humiliate me.

He's now standing at a full height.

"Dark red hair. The color of a cherry," He started while stalking toward me. In instinct, I began to back away.

"Red and black corset top. Thin little underwear. High thigh socks with cute little bows on them."

My back is pressed against the cold wall. My chest is heaving. His fingers are fiddling with said bows on my upper thigh. He's looking down at his hands as he plays with them, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

His hand makes its way to my hair. We both watch four of his fingers graze the ends of it, the strands intertwining gently. "And I knew. Because there's only one girl who walked into this club tonight with hair the color of cherries." His lips grazed my ear. "Red. Just for me."

I sucked in a breath.

"I could just fire you. Right now." He notes, each letter individually popping. His breath is brushing my earlobe.