CEO KIM (Vkook) ✔️ ( Re-writting)

Chapter 17

HY LOVELIES

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The plane landed with a soft jolt, wheels kissing the Paris runway beneath a sky washed in deep navy.

By the time they reached the terminal, it was nearly 9:30 PM. The airport buzzed with dimmed voices and tired travelers. Jungkook rubbed his eyes and stretched while Taehyung collected their passports and quietly guided him toward baggage claim.

The driver met them outside—black suit, black car, polite smile.

Paris was cold tonight. Crisp and clean, rain-kissed from earlier showers.

The ride to the hotel passed quietly.

Jungkook watched the city unfold through the window—soft gold lights, narrow streets, cafés still glowing even at night. It didn’t feel real. It felt like walking into one of his own drawings.

Taehyung, on the other hand, sat calm and unreadable. Only the faint twitch of his jaw every few minutes betrayed that his mind hadn’t stopped moving.

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Their hotel rose at the edge of the 6th arrondissement, an elegant building wrapped in ivy and old stone. A luxury suite had been arranged.

Or so they thought.

The lobby was marble and soft lighting, a chandelier glittering above them like frozen stars.

Taehyung stepped up to the counter first.

“Kim Taehyung. Reservation under Vantae Corp.”

The concierge smiled politely, tapping at her computer.

“Ah—oui, Monsieur Kim. Welcome. Suite 709, already prepared.”

She handed over a single keycard.

Taehyung blinked. “One?”

“Yes,” she said brightly. “As requested.”

Jungkook, behind him, tilted his head. “Wait, didn’t you book two rooms?”

“I did.”

Taehyung turned to the concierge. “There should be two. One for my assistant.”

She tapped again, brow furrowing. “I’m very sorry, monsieur… it seems the second reservation wasn’t confirmed. We are, unfortunately, fully booked tonight due to Fashion Week arrivals.”

Silence.

Taehyung’s jaw tightened.

“Call your manager.”

“Of course,” she said quickly, stepping away.

Jungkook leaned close, whispering, “It’s okay. It’s just one night. I don’t mind.”

“You’re not sleeping on a couch.”

“I’ve slept on worse.”

“I don’t care.”

Taehyung’s voice was low, but sharp—too sharp for someone who hadn’t slept in 11 hours.

He turned back to the desk, only for the manager to arrive seconds later and say the same thing: There are no rooms. Anywhere nearby.

Taehyung exhaled through his nose and turned around.

“We’re leaving. I’ll find another hotel.”