THE ORANGE GIRL

chapter five

Monday, 26th October 2015

9:30AM | MYG Headquarters

The headquarters office was very much alike to Yoongi - minimalist, monochrome, quiet. It was buried in the mouth of an unsuspecting casino called The MYG, an acronym for The Money You Gain and his own infamous name itself, but of course nobody knew the latter.

One of his younger Capos, Park Jimin, ran the place efficiently from the slot machines to the blackjack tables. A charmer that rocked up at the front door of the establishment four years ago with nothing but a packet of Benson and Hedges Smooth and a name that was now nothing but cotton in Yoongi's mind. Sweet sounding syllables that belonged to some girl he sent across the seas.

Plenty had changed about the boy since he arrived. Brunette hair now a faded auburn, his Southern twang straightened out alongside his code of dress. But the one thing that had not was his genuine curiosity as he called it, but Yoongi preferred fucking ferret. So all Yoongi could do was stop dead in his tracks and scowl when he turned down the dimly lit hallway towards his office to find the familiar gentle face leaning against the locked door, exhaling a plume of light grey.

"What?" The blonde muttered as he kept his distance, all too familiar with those nimble hands that slipped into pockets and beneath sleeves with ease. But Jimin was earnest with his closest allies, always giving back what he nicked - in a matter of days, of course.

"Some people like to say hello, Boss. Maybe you should try it out sometime."

"I'm not in the mood for your fuck around today," Yoongi sighed, retrieving his keys from his pocket to thumb through for the one that unlocked the office door. "Seriously, has something important happened or are you wasting my time?"

Yoongi did not see Jimin grin as he spoke, nor the way that it widened when the Don entirely froze.

"Rumour is that you have a little secret, Yoongi. And we are all dying to find out."

The only three that knew about you were Yoongi, Seokjin, and their Underboss, Kim Namjoon. They were going to tell the rest once you were dead, once they drained the information from your pretty little voice and had your bodybag dumped in the river that cut through the city. It would have been too risky to declare their plan to the rest of the gang beforehand, too many mishaps could occur, and they certainly did so when they discovered you were nothing but a carcass of the girl they all lived to loathe. Your release date had not been publicised to the local community, but the accessibility to private information these days was unavoidable. They would have known you were free to go a matter of days ago, they would be wondering where you were. After all, they wanted you dead as badly as he did.

But now, you were his clandestine girl.

Finally, Yoongi looked up with an unreadable expression. "I have said this before, Jimin. Don't believe any of that shit unless it comes directly from my lips, you hear?"

Jimin stared back at the blonde levelly, taking another drag of his cigarette before giving him a salute. The familiar, childish smile broke out on his face once again at his formal words. "Yes, sir."

"Now get out of my way," The left corner of Yoongi's mouth quirked as he nudged the pickpocketing gambler off his door, shoving the keys into the lock. "If I recall correctly, you have a business to run. Scram."

Wordlessly, Jimin sauntered off down the hallway, lazily waving his hand as he went and leaving the oaky scent of Benson and Hedges to waft in the air. Yoongi watched him go until he was completely out of sight before entering the office, shutting the door behind him within one breath. When he turned on his heel with a sigh, your eyes were gazing right back at him.

The photograph had been taken before your capture by one of his henchmen working in the computer sciences department. So many words came to thought when he looked at the blown up image tacked onto the whiteboard, your figure wrapped in a midnight black coat, hair tucked into a thick scarf. Beautiful, observant, cunning, the perfect femme fatale.

It was meant to be a discreet snapshot, unbeknownst to you, taken with a lens that reached your profile at a distance of three kilometres. But you were grinning directly at the camera, the same wicked smile that he witnessed across breakfast this morning.

"She really is a beautiful sight, isn't she?"

The voice came from behind his desk, belonging to a sly smile and predatory eyes. Kim Namjoon, the prodigy of the organisation, and also the eventual successor to Yoongi, had his fingers clasped together over his stomach, leaning back into the worn leather of the swivel chair as his gaze drifted from the photo to his Boss who was watching him warily from the door. Yoongi liked Namjoon, a good kid with the intelligence to match, but he was the creator of storms and turmoil and the blonde would bet his life that he were the one slipping the hint about you to the other Capos. In swift movement, he stood up gracefully, a little taller than Yoongi as he strolled over to his side with a handful of paperwork.

"Seokjin informed me about the situation," Namjoon casually stated, handing him the files that were stamped red with classified. No doubt the information regarded you. "Is your new housemate faring well?"

"Hardly notice her," Yoongi lied as he flicked through the pages, walking around the lithe man to take position at his desk. He wriggled with slight discomfort at the warmth that still clung to the plush material. "All I know is that she still doesn't remember shit, and she desperately wants to die."

"Liar," Namjoon grinned, and Yoongi stilled, eyeing the Underboss at his unusual comment. He suddenly wondered whether there was something the boy knew about you that he did not, for he had thoroughly researched you as many hours as Yoongi did. "You can never not notice somebody who has a face like that."

Oh.

Yoongi sighed, settling deeper into his chair as he discarded the paperwork onto the varnished wood. He strayed his eyes from Namjoon back to the blown up image, pinned so neatly, like you once were. The colour of your hair was a little darker, skin glowing and nourished, eyes bright and mischievous with rosy red flushed across your cheeks. You looked alive. Nothing alike to what you are now.

"Sad to say she is merely a carcass of the girl in that photograph," Yoongi murmured. The soft tone was enough to make Namjoon tilt his head in amusement, gazing at the peculiar expression that was glancing across his Boss' features before it was hardening back into its usual scowl.

Yoongi could feel the boy's eyes on him and so he reached into the inside pocket of his coat for a well needed distraction, except his fingers came up cold. Languidly, he slipped his hand back out before curling it into a fist and pounding it once against the top of the desk with a venomous mutter ofthat fucking bastard.

"He stole your cigarettes again, didn't he?" Namjoon laughed as he walked towards the office door, slender fingers curling around the handle as he went to let himself out with the image of a boy with sunset hair at the front of his thoughts.

"Jimin's skills are immaculate," Yoongi grunted, sitting up straight as he composed himself. "But they're gonna get him killed. Or his wrists broken, at least."

Namjoon shrugged, giving the Boss a parting smile before he was drifting out the door. "Maybe it's a sign that you should stop smoking."

Smoking is bad for you.

The man in the leather chair jumped at the sudden thought that was whispered delicately into his ear, gaze averting back to the image of you that smiled proudly back. The words were definitely your own, but he could not imagine them slipping from the lips of the girl who watched him so mockingly, a girl with a mind full of secrets that his fingertips simply itched to grasp onto. You looked at the camera as though you knew what the future held, how close he would get, yet so indescribably far.

With the door clicking shut, the office was empty except for Yoongi and your eyes, his voice only for the two of you to hear.

"Yeah. Maybe it is."