#2 in fanfiction🏅
𝗔 𝗠𝗔𝗙𝗜𝗔 𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗗 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗜𝗔𝗚𝗘 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘
'𝘼𝙨 𝙇𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨 𝙎𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙛𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙣'
Kim Y/n was meant to be a leverage, an arranged bride offered to the Ko...
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My future wife is a brilliant woman.
I muse silently, watching Y/n command the room with an ease she doesn't appear to know she has.
She speaks, and every man at the table hangs onto her words, drawn in without even realizing it.
Her words ignite a hunger to know more about her.
And then, I feel it—that quiet hum in my chest. Not jealousy. Something deeper.
Possessiveness.
Around the table, brows furrow, and lips part in astonishment, their eyes fixed on Y/n as if she holds the key to some profound mystery.
One man leans forward, eyes lingering longer than necessary. My grip tightens on the armrest.
She fidgets with the hem of her skirt, unaware of the effect she has, not just on them, but on me.
Fire licks at my throat. It's not anger. Not yet. Just the simple need to remind everyone who she belongs to.
Y/n's shoulders stiffen slightly under the weight of their gaze. I reach for her hand, brushing my thumb over her knuckles, a silent tether, pulling her back to me.
A warning to them.
"I believe we have a new strategy, gentlemen." My voice is smooth but cuts sharp through the murmurs. It carries just enough edge to remind them exactly who's speaking.
Marcus shifts in his seat. "Yes, yes, of course." He adjusts his glasses, clearing his throat.
Good.
"Thank you for your invaluable input," I continue, casting a glance at Y/n.
Amusement tugs at the corner of my mouth, but the flicker of pride outweighs it.
"I'll let you all get back to work." Rising, I pull out her chair. My hand rests lightly at the small of her back as we step into the hall.
"You were incredible in there," I tell her sincerely as we make our way down the hallway to my office.
Y/n looks up at me, her doubt evident in her eyes. "I just said what came to mind," she replies modestly.
"And that's exactly what we needed," I assure her, my pride evident in my voice.
"I'm proud to have you, Y/n." A spark of joy lights up Y/n's eyes, and once again,
I find myself captivated by the woman who walks by my side.
Her cheeks burn a rosy red. "Thank you," she says softly.
She bites her lip, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth as we walk together.
Back in my office, Y/n drifts toward the large windows behind my desk, her fingers trailing lightly along the edge as if committing the space to memory.
