Jimin is down to his last cigarette by the time he enters the elevator and hits the button for the ground floor at the Black Rabbit. The pack was full this morning, but he's been caught up in a tornadic spiral of anxiety all day, trying to decide how to approach the whole cheating with Zodiac idea. Jeongguk left for a salon appointment at ten AM and has yet to return. They've kept in contact, so Jimin knows nothing has happened to him, but it's probably better if he stays away from the casino tonight.
Zodiac was extremely quick to agree to Jimin's invitation to come to the Black Rabbit for a few rounds of pool. When Zodiac asked what the sudden interest was, Jimin forcibly had to make himself hold his tongue. Information is the most valuable currency in this situation, therefore he wasn't about to put himself at a disadvantage by explaining too much. It's just fortunate for him that Zodiac is thirsty enough to agree to see him anyway.
Heads turn as Jimin exits the elevator. He takes a drag from his cigarette, blowing smoke as he crosses the lobby in the black lace stiletto Christian Louboutin booties Jeongguk bought for him—fucked him in the night he brought them home. They make him feel sexy. So does the red silk shirt he stole from Jeongguk's closet again.
That isn't why guests are staring at him, though. It's more likely because he isn't wearing any pants. Jimin has a pair of lace underwear on underneath, but he honestly can't imagine wandering around with his dick just out like Jeongguk does. This is already mortifying enough. But, he figures if he can make it through the casino without crumpling in on himself and hightailing it back to Jeongguk's suite, he can muster up enough courage to meet with Zodiac.
Persevering with willpower he didn't know he had—because facing off a psychopath wielding a chainsaw requires a different kind of internal strength than crossing a crowded room half-naked—Jimin reaches the private room he'd reserved earlier, knocks twice, and invites himself in. Zodiac is already waiting for him, perfectly composed on the leather couch against the wall. Jimin isn't particularly surprised to see him in loungewear—a white sweatshirt with a grunge skull and crossbones design on it and black joggers—but it confuses him. Why doesn't an alpha with such a flashy personality dress accordingly?
He notices, with some amusement, that the bottle of wine he'd ordered has remained untouched on the side table.
"Fancy meeting you here," Zodiac greets pleasantly. Always pleasant. Morgan was a little like that—nice to your face only to turn around and talk shit about you once you were gone. Jimin got to hear all kinds of juicy gossip while they were together and it just never dawned on him that if shittalking close friends was something Morgan was willing to do, why would he be exempt from it? But Morgan was just a manipulative asshole. Zodiac is a murderer.
Jimin deposits the remainder of his cigarette on one of the crystal ashtrays in the room, aware of Zodiac's hungry eyes roving over his exposed skin. "Thank you for coming out on such short notice."
"Oh, I'd drop anything for you, Jimin."
Even Dutch? Jimin is tempted to ask, but he doesn't. It's another one of those things he wonders about—how devoted Zodiac truly is to his mate, what kind of loyalty exists there. Zodiac doesn't seem too keen on talking about it, though.
"But as much as I'd like to believe I made you cum so good, you just couldn't get me out of your head," Zodiac says, "I suspect there's something you'd like to pick my brain about."
Jimin ignores his question and walks over to the side table to uncork the wine. It comes off with a satisfying pop! "I wasn't sure what kind you liked, so I just asked for red. I hope that's alright."
"If it's what you like," Zodiac responds dismissively. "I don't drink."
He knew Zodiac didn't use anymore after overdosing, but supposes he didn't realize that extended to alcohol as well. Either way, he decides to feign ignorance. "Really? You seem like the type to knock back straight vodka."
