TEMPTATION OF MY ARROGANT CEO JEON JUNGKOOK X READER {COMPLETED}

13

Jungkook's POV

I introduced her to some of my business associates before my mother pulled her aside, warning her not to hurt me. After that, I introduced her to Carlos, my best friend. Her expression soured at the sight of him, and I knew why—he was the one who had exposed her secret to me. Carlos tried making conversation, but she answered in monotone. Watching her discomfort was amusing.

We had to dance, so I led her to the dance floor. The spotlight illuminated her features, emphasizing her beauty. I had to admit she looked stunning tonight. I’d seen her beauty before, but it caught me off guard now. As we danced, all eyes were on us—the center of attention, the "loving couple."

My hand rested on her waist, holding her close, while her hands lay on my shoulders. She avoided looking at me, and I wondered why. Wasn’t she supposed to gaze at me with love?

“Y/N, keep eye contact and smile,” I ordered.

She turned her hazel-green eyes on me, the look taking me back to our first dance. Back then, it felt magical, losing myself in her gaze. Her smile used to light up something in me, but now I couldn’t see her the same way, not after what I knew.

“Don’t look down. My face is up here,” I added. She stared at me, her face somber—nothing surprising there.

“I don’t want to look at you, Jeon,” she said flatly. I chuckled.

“Afraid of staring at someone this handsome?” I teased.

“You’re so full of yourself. And no, I’m not afraid of your supposed handsomeness,” she retorted.

“You’re scared of falling,” I countered, and she laughed.

“I’m not, and I never will,” she replied. Her words tempted me to laugh at how much I hated her. She treated my feelings like a joke.

“You should know I’m not interested in you falling for me,” I said honestly. “I don’t need you on the already long list.”

She laughed again, infuriating me. What was so funny?

“You’re delusional, Jeon. Thinking I’d fall for you again is insanity,” she said, and anger flared in me. How dare she speak to me like that?

“You did once, and I bet you could again,” I said arrogantly. She glared at me.

“I’ve learned my lesson. There’s no need for another. Besides, you’re not my type. I hate you too much to care about you,” she snapped.

I had learned my lesson too. I didn’t need another painful experience.

“So, you have a type. That’s interesting. I thought you’d just open up for anyone with—” I smirked, letting the words hang. Her expression darkened, and I knew she would’ve slapped me if we weren’t in public.

“If anyone here is shameless, it’s you, Jeon. All you care about is what’s beneath a skirt,” she shot back.

Her words didn’t sting; I knew my reputation well. But what hurt was that I’d once been willing to give it all up for her, only to learn she wasn’t who I thought she was.

“The dance is over,” I said coldly as the song ended.

“Finally,” she muttered. I scoffed. Like I wanted to stay near her.

People swarmed us, snapping photos. We posed together, with family, and with friends. Those pictures would hit the media before the night was over.

Back at home, I lay on my bed, reflecting on how this situation unfolded. Mr. Jack had walked into my office, declaring the only way to fully inherit the company was through marriage. It was in the will, and the board didn’t want a bachelor in charge. Marriage wasn’t something I wanted, so I blurted out that I was already engaged.

The room fell silent, and I panicked, trying to think of a name. My mind drew a blank until I spotted a cup of coffee on my desk. That’s when her name came to me—Y/N.

Announcing my engagement to her shocked everyone, especially my mother. Y/N had played along, smiling through the moment, but the second we were alone, she exploded, insisting she wouldn’t go through with it.

I’d laughed at her outrage. Girls like her were easy to handle—a simple five-letter word could change their minds: money. I proposed a five-million-dollar deal. She pretended to be insulted, claiming she wasn’t a woman who could be bought. Her act amused and annoyed me.

I called her every name that fit—a liar, a cheat, a gold digger—and made it clear she had no choice. When she finally accepted, I took her shopping. Her wardrobe was pathetic, nowhere near what someone engaged to a billionaire should wear.

I even bought her a new phone, replacing the old junk she had. I wasn’t about to have my fiancée seen with something so outdated.

The next day, our engagement hit the headlines. Some believed it; others didn’t. Comments and questions flooded social media. I prepared her for interviews, annoyed at how clueless she seemed about fabricating a convincing story.

During the interview, I crafted lies with ease, though I hated every second of pretending to love her. When asked why I chose her, I had to suppress my irritation and give an answer that sounded convincing.

Her disobedience frustrated me. She questioned my rules, disregarded my authority, and talked back without hesitation. Everything about her grated on my nerves—her presence, her voice, her attitude.

This was the mess I’d gotten myself into. Now I was stuck with her for a year.

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