LUCKY SEVEN ✱ jungkook

01 - LUST OVER LOGIC.

𝒦𝒩

WITH CAUTIOUS TREPIDATION, my fingers tightly embrace the lush material that serpentines around the handle of the stolen designer bag I managed to acquire. It was a rookie mistake leaving the bag unattended, but the rich tend not to ponder over such details.

Perhaps making a run from the supposed crime scene and ending up in a local bar was not the brightest of ideas. For this bar radiates power and wealth, exuding an aura of opulence.

At least I had my stolen accessory, it served as a symbol of my own personal wealth.

Despite having lack of.

And in that moment my gaze fixates on the lone figure seated at the bar, manner appearing as refined as his attire. Though his back remains turned, he exhibits intrigue and ambiguity. His taste impeccable in evident detail, from the tailored fit of his suit that follows the broad planes of his shoulders to the glint in his cufflinks.

Expensive and most likely branded cufflinks that I could pinch from him with my eyes closed if I put my mind to doing so.

Target located.

I could potentially leave this place a couple hundred dollars richer tonight. Not that I can afford to leave anything short of it.

And now, it is showtime. One thing me and my mother had in common before she died was our ability to get what we wanted, even if it meant by swindling.

Right now, I would be getting what I wanted. Just through using the appropriate technique and tact, and with rich men that only meant one of two things.

First being fuelling their egos until they skyrocket, and the second being lust. And I settled on the latter option.

By setting the leather bag down at the surface of the bar counter first, I allowed time for my target to steal an unintentional glance my way.

Bingo. It worked. I don't have to look, I can practically feel his stare burning figurative holes through the almost sheer material of the skimpy dress hugging my waist.

Yes, the dress may be of a visibly cheaper quality than the bag I carried in with me... But what sort of man would consider that, instead of eye-fucking first?

Logic comes second to lust.

Suddenly the scent of his cologne becomes noticeable, in the air as a luxury invitation of mischief to approach and lose yourself in.

I continue my act, pretending as if I have no idea of his presence.

I take a seat on the lavish material of the bar stool, unlike the torn false leather most seating in clubs and bars possess. I could get used to this lush life.

"Hey there, pretty lady. What can I get you?"

The bartender wears a grin that strikes perfect for customer service, I can't help but return the gesture. My lips tug in a small, tight-lipped smile.

"The finest drink you serve will do," Did I have the money for it? No. Was I aiming to draw in my target like a magnet? Perhaps.

Maybe I had planned a potential scenario in mind. Something along the lines of You seem like the red wine kind of woman to which I'd flash a sultry grin and reply with something smooth enough to grasp his attention.

But nothing came. Not even a quick glance.

In my peripheral line of sight, I catch a glimpse of my target. Well, mostly his hand. And those... veins. I feel something ignite down south, and choose to believe it was my desire to steal the diamond encrusted ring secured around the slender ivory of his thick index. Good Lord his fingers are so...