#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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Y/n was waiting for me.
I've known this all day-saw her nod when Mrs. Bae asked if she was trying to seduce me, the anticipation building inside me like a ticking time bomb.
Every part of me wants to rush to her, to hold her, kiss her, take her, but I can't.
Not now.
I shrug off my jacket, tossing it onto the couch, before lowering myself into my chair.
My fingers drum rhythmically against the polished wood of my desk, my eyes landing on the painting she gave me-Serene.
The piece is breathtaking, but all I see when I look at it is her.
Y/n. The way she looks at me. Bright eyes filled with hope.
Then confusion and pain-the same look she wore when I slammed the door in her face.
Fuck.
I watched her today, as I always do.
But this time, I watched her with Yeonjun. Painting.
Since when does that fucker paint?
I've known him my whole life-there's not an artistic bone in his body, but my wife comes around and suddenlyhe's 'Van fucking Gogh' .
I shake off the sharp sting of jealousy.
Yeonjun is my most trusted man, my cousin-he would never cross me.
Still, the image lingers, twisting in my chest like a knife.
I lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples.
My mind wanders back to our interactions over the past few weeks; the stolen glances, soft touches, the taste of her skin on my tongue, the feel of her smooth thighs wrapped around me, her warm light frame on my lap and those lips... those damn lips have been haunting me.
I want her. But wanting her is dangerous.
She doesn't know who I am. What I've done. What I am capable of.
She grew up in this life, but she hasn't seen the violence first hand.
She hasn't seen me, not the version of me that kills without hesitation, the version that men whisper about in fear.
The thought of her looking at me with disgust, the thought of her being afraid of me-It makes my stomach turn.
I run my fingers through my hair, tugging at the strands, trying to ease the pressure building in my skull.
I need to see her.
I flick on the monitor, scanning until I find her-alone in her bedroom, sitting on the bed we should be sharing if I wasn't such a fucking idiot.
