If You Love Me

Chapter 15: A Drunk Summer's Night

One firm heel digging into the floor after another, the woman pauses in her pace and soaks in the scent of ocean breeze she knew well until the big move. It was many years ago, but still makes her cringe to think she lived happily in the filthy conditions of a commoner.

Flinging off her sunglasses with one hand, she parts the hair from her face. "Why on earth does he want to live in this dump?" She eyes the ceiling.

Average.

Then grimaces at the floor.

Disgusting.

Setting down her luggage before heading to the front desk, she fishes her phone from her pocket to check for a final time before raging.

The words clutching to her green word bubble in the chat emphasize his intent more than ever.

Read.

Tapping a nail to the temple of her forehead, she chuckles softly, "Ouch."

That's no way to greet an old friend. Especially one you haven't seen in ages.

The woman rocks in her stance, deliberating her method of going about things.

Casual is definitely pushing it... Not to mention a waste of energy. But it seems the wolf has sniffed out her intentions, which only means regaining his trust and favour will be a challenge.

A very, very difficult challenge.

But that's fine, she's already a few steps ahead. Anybody who didn't see this coming granted their history and chemistry, is an idiot. That's why she's here for a little good old fashioned payback.

He chose to deliberately ignored her messages though fully aware of the consequences from higher-ups. That's why she figured she's relax his punishment a few notches and instead give him the shock of his life; a visit.

More importantly, one that will sway him to give up the childish leverage he's clutching onto and force him to carry out the labour of his destiny. After all, a clock can only tick for so long.

This woman's goal, or rather mission, is actually quite simple.

Get the signature.

No matter what it takes, and at all costs, she needs it.

This is business, not something she's doing out of the kindness of her really, really small heart. Infact, she would much rather be down at the big malls of Seoul, purchasing items from luxury brands like Gucci than wasting her precious time "bonding" with that dark-haired devil.

Yes, that son of a bitch.

Min Yoongi.

Checking into the front desk, the long ebony haired woman is greeted by the kind smile of the bougie clerk. "Hi there! What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for a room." She says, tapping her nails against the surface of the desk. Chaerin types the information into the computer in record speed, handing the young woman her ticket and soon after, key.

But before she can leave, your aunt presents a waver to the maiden, a pen clutched in her other palm.

"Just need to you to sign here and here." Chaerin gestures to the doted lines. "They explain hotel policy. All noise that exceeds reasonable standards after the curfew of 11 pm will be reported by one of our staff. And after your stay, you are required to make your payments at the front desk before leaving the premises. Any questions?"

The woman's lips curve into a beautiful smile, one that has your aunt's mind twirling in the depths of confusion and familiarity; the kind that she can't quite put her finger on, but that she knows so well.