From Reluctance to Desire: A Mafia Story

✨COLD WATER AND BROKEN CERAMICS✨

The next morning, I woke with a start as a splash of cold water hit my face. My eyes flew open, disoriented and furious. It was Jungkook, standing over me, the remnants of the water dripping from the glass in his hand. His expression was calm, almost detached, but his actions spoke louder than words.

"Get up and follow me," he said coldly.

I clenched my fists under the covers, anger boiling beneath my skin. Who did he think he was, barging in like this? But, against my better judgment, I did as he asked, knowing I couldn't afford to provoke him further. Still fuming, I trailed after him down the hallway to his room.

As we entered, I couldn't help but notice how starkly it contrasted with the rest of the house. The room was dark, luxurious, and intimidating—like the lair of someone who always had control. A king-sized bed dominated the space, its black silk sheets perfectly made. A massive monitor hung on the wall, displaying feeds from the house's CCTV cameras. And then there was the art—dark, abstract, unsettling, just like him.

Despite my grogginess, I found myself scanning the room, taking in every detail. His closet door was slightly ajar, revealing rows upon rows of sleek, tailored suits—mostly black, of course. I spotted his wedding coat, still hanging there as if it hadn't been worn.

Jungkook cleared his throat, snapping me out of my daze. "Stop admiring my room and get your belongings," he ordered, his voice low and irritated.

Without another word, I grabbed my things—just some clothes and a few personal items—and hurried out of his space, feeling like I was intruding on something much darker than I could understand. Once back in my room, I arranged my belongings, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling his room had left behind. I told myself it didn't matter. It wasn't my life, just the one I had to survive for now.

When I finally went downstairs, I saw Jungkook eating breakfast at the dining table. Relief washed over me, assuming he had cooked for both of us and that I wouldn't have to worry about feeding myself in this strange place. But as I wandered into the kitchen, I realized there was no food left for me. I frowned, opening cabinets, only to find them empty.

I turned back toward him, annoyed. "Where's the food?" I asked, the irritation clear in my voice.

Jungkook didn't even look up from his plate. "I cooked for myself," he said casually, "You cook for yourself."

His words triggered something in me. Was this how it was going to be? I clenched my teeth, trying not to let my frustration show. Fine. If he wanted me to fend for myself, so be it. I quickly grabbed a pot and started making ramyeon, the simple task keeping my hands busy and my mind focused.

As I stirred the pot, Jungkook entered the kitchen, casually placing his dirty plate in the sink without bothering to wash it. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, my irritation bubbling over. Did he think I'd clean up after him? Not a chance. I ignored the mess and finished cooking, refusing to play whatever twisted game he had in mind.

Once the ramyeon was done, I filled a bowl and carried it into the living room. Jungkook sat on the couch, typing away on his laptop, completely absorbed in whatever work he was doing. I plopped down on the chair opposite him, making sure to make my presence known, and began eating.

The ramyeon was delicious, the warm broth instantly comforting me after the chaotic morning. I couldn't help but feel a tiny sense of pride. I was a good cook, after all. I noticed Jungkook glance at me, and for a brief moment, I swore I saw a flicker of regret in his eyes as he watched me enjoy the meal. He probably wished he'd had some too, though he'd never admit it.