My Client's Former Best Friend | MEANIE/MINWON

Chapter Twenty Three.

From his vantage point, tied to the chair behind Junhui’s enormous mahogany desk, Mingyu gaped as Wonwoo waltzed into the room, wearing a body-hugging, low-cut navy shirt with a shoulder slit. His mouth went dry from being open for so long. Wonwoo was walking into what he knew Wonwoo knew was a hostage situation led by a mad man with a gun, without cops or his uncle or a weapon of any kind other than that outfit. But wow, that shirt.

  This is no time to get an erection, he told himself sternly.

  No one moved for a long minute. Wonwoo started to back out of the room, with a sheepish expression. “Oh. It looks like you’re in the middle of something. I won’t interrupt your kinky sex thing.”

  Minghao recovered first. “Who the fuck are you?”

  His voice screeched. Even lovesick Junhui couldn’t still be smitten with him after listening to that for the past two hours. Then again, Junhui had been listening to that voice for years and was still head over heels. They were toast.

  “Sorry, I just came to see Jun about a business thing. I’ll come back at a better time.”

  Minghao, when startled by the sudden arrival, had whipped his gun around to Wonwoo instead of Junhui. His face was orange-red under his tan. He sputtered with anger and motioned wildly with the gun. “Grab him,” he squeaked at his guards.

  Two of the henchmen took hold of Wonwoo and pulled him into the room, his arms behind his back.

  “Put him over there.” Minghao motioned to the armchair next to Junhui.

  The guards plunked Wonwoo into the armchair, almost causing his shoulder to pop out of the shirt. A pity. Anger replaced chagrin. There was no way in hell these douchebags—he included Junhui in that—were going to see the man he definitely—probably liked’s shoulders.

  They tied his arms behind the chair as Wonwoo asked, in his best innocent voice, “Jun, what’s going on here?”

  Junhui, who this whole time had been looking varying degrees of contrite, amped it up a level as he turned to his spin doctor. “I’m sorry to drag you into all this, Wonwoo. I didn’t know we had a meeting scheduled or I would have canceled it. Of course, I also didn’t know Minghao would be here tonight. It seems I’m out of the loop on a lot of things.”

  “It’s okay, I understand, Jun.” Wonwoo leaned over as best he could to bump shoulders with him.

  Mingyu glared at both of them. From his periphery, he saw Minghao advancing on Wonwoo.

  “Shut up,” he said, his voice a growl. “I want to know who you are, how the fuck you got past my guards, what the fuck you think you’re doing with my fiancé, and why the fuck you’re wearing my shirt!”

  There was silence as Wonwoo held Minghao’s blazing gaze but said nothing.

  Mingyu smirked. Wonwoo was wearing Minghao’s shirt. Ingenious. Of course his fashion-crazed cousin would recognize his own clothes. And of course nothing would make him angrier than seeing them on someone he assumed was his rival for Junhui’s love. If Wonwoo’s plan also included a way of getting them out of this mess, they’d be all set.

  “Can I speak?” Wonwoo asked politely.

  “You’d better before I shoot your brains out.” Minghao’s own black tank and pants were wrinkled, her black makeup heavy, and his tan patchy. Beside the radiant, well-rested Wonwoo, Minghao was a mess, the strain of the past few days glaring in contrast with his composed captive. It had to be driving Minghao insane. His hand shook and her jaw clenched with barely suppressed rage.