Mr Park, CEO || Book 1 of CEO || PJM || ✔

f o u r

The apartment was huge.

It was all open plan, with huge windows running across an entire wall, letting in the wonderful, warm natural light. There was an enormous L-shaped sofa in the middle, facing the biggest TV screen I had ever seen; apart from a cinema screen, maybe. A few metres behind the sofa was a dining table, complete with chairs and table runner. Off to the side was a huge kitchen area, with an island in the middle with four stools seated around it. There was a huge, american style fridge and a cooker with six hobs across to the side. In the corner at the other side of the room, was an enormous grand piano, making me gulp with the sudden longing to play. Surprisingly, it fit in well with the decor of the place; everything was black and white, and would have looked sparkling and clean.

If it wasn't for the obnoxious mess.

Jimin stepped inside and tossed his suit jacket onto the huge pile of clothes already on his sofa.

"It looks like your stuff is already here," He commented, moving to a small pile of cardboard boxes by a coffee table, "Is this it?"

I blushed slightly as I stooped to remove my shoes, "I don't have all that much,"

"I can see that," He snorted, opening one of the boxes, "You are not wearing any of this stuff, just throw it away. I'll buy you new stuff,"

"No!" I cried, rushing forward and pulling the box out of his arms, "These are my clothes!"

"And they aren't good enough," He said, taking the box back, "I will get you new things. I can't be seen with you in these!" He pulled out my favourite pair of pajama bottoms; they were faded black with little silver stars all over them. They were amazingly comfortable, and my mother had brought them for me on our last shopping trip before she passed away.

"No!" I yanked them out of his hand, shocked at how sheltered he was, "You don't go out in these, Mr Park, they are pajamas! And I'm not throwing them away!"

He sighed and rolled his eyes, "We will go through this later," He said, picking up another box, "I need to go through some things with you before I go back to work,"

I followed him as he left the living area and headed down a short hallway. There were three doors, and he went into the one off to the right.

"This is our bedroom," He said, putting the box down. I sighed when I saw even more mess. How could he live like this?

Suddenly I realised what he said, "Our bedroom?!"

He rolled his eyes, "Yes, our bedroom. We are engaged, remember? Also, there is only one bedroom. You can have half of the wardrobe," He geatured to the open door of a large walk in wardrobe, "There is an ensuite bathroom over there," He pointed to another door in the bedroom, "The other bathroom is the guest bathroom; the door at the end of the hallway. The door to the left is my office,"

He crossed his arms over his chest, "Now for the rules,"

"Rules?!"

"Yes, rules. I don't want you leaving the house without my knowledge. I will get you a key tomorrow, but until then, stay inside. You have to dress well and act appropriately in public, and you are not, under any circumstances, to act in anyway that could ruin my reputation. That means no getting drunk or being seen in the company of other men,"

I narrowed my eyes, "I have to stay here unless you give me permission to go out?"

"I said without my knowledge, not permission. The apartment is now yours, so use the television or laptop or whatever as you like. I'll leave some money for you to order us dinner, and tomorrow I'll take you shopping to get cosmetics or whatever," He looked at the box he had set on the floor, "Try and pick out something half decent to wear when we go, will you?"

I spluttered, angry at him, but before I could argue, he pulled out his phone, "Give me your number,"

I pulled my little phone out and he actually gasped, "That is your phone?"

"What's wrong with it?" I snapped; his spoilt, demanding behaviour was already grating on me.

"I'll put in a reminder to pick you up a new phone as well," He muttered to himself, handing me his phone, "Type your number in and save mine,"

"Mr Park, I don't know if this is a-"

With a sigh he put his phone back in his pocket after drop calling me, "Don't call me Mr Park. We are supposed to be getting married. Call me by my name,"

"Jimin,"

"Good. I'm going back to work," He said, leaving the room. I followed him, picking my way through the mess as he picked up his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder, "One more thing," He added as he opened the front door, "Don't go into my office. I'll be home at eight,"

Jimin closed the door behind him and I stood frozen in shock as I tried to take in everything. With a sigh, I got my senses together. Yes, everything had happened incredibly quickly, and Jimin was a spoilt, demanding man, but he may just have been stressed from work, and having to accept this marriage proposal so quickly.

"I might as well make the best of things," I said, grabbing one of my boxes and going to the bedroom to get changed, "Maybe things will work out. If not, it's just for a few months!"

It had taken me almost four hours to completely clean the apartment from top to bottom, and I was honestly shocked. There were five black bags filled with rubbish that I had taken mostly from the kitchen, and had left by the door, ready to be taken down to the bins. I had sorted through all the shoes and clothes that were scattered around the living area and kitchen and had put them away in Jimin's wardrobe, before putting my own clothes in there. I found an empty drawer for my underwear and socks, and had carefully put my shoes at the end of the rack where Jimins were.

My photoframe of my family I placed on the bedside table next to the part of the bed that was neat when I arrived; I assumed Jimin slept on the bit that had the crumped pillow and the covers thrown off.

Once everything was finally done, I showered in the ensuite bathroom and put my comfy pajamas on, before heading to the kitchen and rolling my sleeves up to see what I could cook for dinner.

It was obvious that Jimin never cooked, as the kitchen was previously filled with empty take out containers, and I didn't really want to eat fast food; I was already missing home. On the now clean counter, there was a pile of money and a post-it note with the address of the apartment on it. I picked up the post-it as I opened the fridge; finding only beer and left over take-out.

With a sigh, I headed to the coffee table and flipped open the laptop, hoping that it wasn't password protected.

Luckily for me, it wasn't, so I ordered some groceries online, making sure that I had enough money first, before sitting back to try and relax a bit before they came.

I jumped when my phone buzzed from my pocket, and smiled when I saw the name of my best friend light up the screen.

"Hey, Yoongi,"

"Hey babe, how you doing?"

"You will never believe what happened to me today!"