"Here’s your drink,”

Namjoon tilts his head, smiling with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“—you look like you desperately need it,” He slides you the drink. You had just taken the seat next to him at the bar, after a quick run to the restroom.

“Thank you,” You say gratefully.

You did need a drink, the kiss had left you wet and dry at the same time. You take a sip, rolling the drink around in your mouth.

“You are too far away,” He says, watching you from the rim of his glass.

“Hm?” You look at him, feeling the alcohol burn your throat.

“This,” He mutters, moving to grab hold of the bar stool you were sitting on and drag it to him. You yelp in surprise, eyes comically wide as you scramble to stop yourself from falling over.

“Wha—”

You are holding on to your stool with one hand and the other holding his arm as he drags the stool and you across the floor, you can feel his muscles flex under your fingertips.

For a good second, your mind runs —wondering about all his muscles, how good they’d look flexing without the clothes obstructing your view, the clear strength lying beneath his honey-skin, the ways his body could be put to use for your needs and pleasure. You were very near gone, when he grins and his dimples show.

“There,” His dimples grow deeper, and he whispers. “All better.”

You nod a few times, momentarily forgetting your words. You take another big sip of your drink, trying to clear your throat and ease your body of the weird tension you had been feeling since the balcony.

In the time you were gone, things seemed to have escalated a bit. People were beginning to get very drunk, and the venue was steadily becoming more of a club with the older guests leaving for dinner.

Just from the looks of it, the afterparty was going to be crazy.

If it had been any other party, you’d have stayed back and gone crazy, but now, you aren’t all that interested. It was like your brain had done a lot of work and while you weren’t tired physically, you were mentally drained.

All you wanted was a bath, a bottle of wine and your own company.

“When can I go home?” You ask your fiancé. You empty the drink, setting the glass back on the table.

“The party’s barely started, sweetheart.” He leans in closer, using his index finger to caress your cheek delicately, “What do you mean you wanna go home?” He says, his voice soft.

“I’m tired,” You whine, making a face. “—and this party is boring.”

“This is our engagement party, you know.” He reminds you, tone bordering amusement.

“What does that have to do with anything?” You scoff. “A boring party is a boring party. It doesn’t matter who it is thrown for or hosted by.”

“Do you not want to eat anything?” Namjoon asks you, taking a look at your empty glass and back up at you. You should be touched that he thinks about you skipping dinner, but you are not.

“You must be hungry from all this,” He gestures to the party that’s beginning to rage.

“I’ll just order room service,” You answer, waving off any concerns he might have.

“So, you have it all planned?” He tilts his head, to take a look at you.

“Room. Food. Bed.” You recite your plans happily and he sighs.

If you look deep into it, he sounds disappointed. But before that thought comes to your mind, he stands up.

“Come on then,“ He pushes forward his arm, asking you to hold it. "I’ll take you to your suite.”

“Really?” You ask, eyes wide because you weren’t expecting him to actually let you go. You take his arm, “I can leave?”

He nods, and you stand up. “No one will say anything if it’s me taking you away,”

“Why?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, eyes wide with mirth and curiosity, “Because you are the next Don?”

“Partially yes,” He nods, smiling smugly. He leads you away from the bar, around the loud guests and out of the crowd. “But mostly because you are mine anyway.”

You roll your eyes and turn your face away from him, “I’m not yours.”

“Of course you are,” He laughs, shaking his head like you were cracking the funniest of jokes. He holds your hand in his, bringing it up to kiss your fingertips. “You are mine and mine only,” He winks and adds as an afterthought, looking ahead. “For this lifetime at least.”

“For the next then?” You challenge.

You don’t know what you want him to say —if you want him to say that you were only his, this lifetime and the next or that he didn’t care what happened to you in the next. You look at him expectantly, as he leads you out the entryway, towards the elevators.

He stays quiet, looking thoughtful and once you enter the lift, he finally talks.

“You tell me,” Namjoon says, turning himself to you and leaning against the elevator wall. “Will you be mine in the next lifetime?”

You look up at him, the sudden turn of questions startling you. You remain quiet because you don’t know what he expects out of you.

Should you be honest?

Will it be a lie to say you would want him in the next lifetime too?

Will he even want you in any lifetime?

Wasn’t this marriage a fulfilment of duty to him?

Something he owed to Bangtan —a strong and capable Madam?

You think about what might be the right and honest answer to give.

What do you really think would make you want Namjoon in your next life?

To Namjoon though, the answer seems pretty clear.

In this life, you have no choice but to be his. Next life though, you’ll probably be the captain of your own life, would you be his then?

Namjoon doesn’t like the way his heart sinks because a part of him knows you wouldn’t choose him. He’d rather hear a negative answer from you, than hear his own thoughts about why you wouldn’t want him in the next life.

“Depends on how you treat me this lifetime,” You say carefully after a minute, looking at him with equal parts amusement and sincerity.

Because honestly, you didn’t have much against Namjoon.

Did you love him?

No, but you could see yourself falling for him, if he treats you like you want to be treated —like an equal, like a woman, like his wife, like someone he cared for.

Namjoon carefully considers your answer, then asks again.

“Am I treating you well so far, then?”

“You tell me,” You mimic him, tone and body, “Are you treating me well so far?”

The elevator dings and the door opens. You walk out first, leaving Namjoon to follow you to your room. You are walking ahead a few steps, when he wraps his palm on your wrist and pulls you back to him.

“I think—” You turn to him, with a questioning gaze.

His expression is serious and unreadable. You are all ready for another talk about how you were expecting too much and the bull but he surprises you.

“—a little work is needed.”

He looks down at you deceivingly soft and sincere, scanning your face to scale your reaction. Your eyes widen in genuine surprise and delight, because even the consideration that he would try to do better is a huge step in making the future a happier place.

While this wasn’t a big deal to anyone, this was still a win to you.

“You are a smart man, Kim Namjoon.” You giggle, laugh bubbling up —unrestrained and loud, that Namjoon follows you right back. Your face is scrunched up in happiness, head thrown back.

Namjoon knows the situation or his words aren’t all that funny but you must’ve found some amusement from them, because he feels this odd need to keep you laughing and happy.

“That I am,” He agrees, chest puffing up in a funny manner, eliciting more laughter from you.

“Yes, yes,” You concede, laughter waning, “—you are a smart man.”

A comfortable silence settles between you as you come to a halt right in front of your door.

“Well, this is me.”

You gesture to your door. He nods, gesturing to your door as if asking you to open the door. You swipe the keycard, the door unlocking and swinging wide open. You step in, the air heavy now that you two were separating after a pretty good time. “See you… tomorrow?”

“You don’t want a goodnight kiss, baby?” He asks, stepping into the room and leaning against the doorway.

“Do you?” You your head and move closer to him. He takes a step towards you, meeting you halfway.

He nods, “But I want you to say it.”

“Kiss me,” You whisper, hands easily finding their place on him, as he pulls you closer, planting his lips on yours.

His lips are soft but he runs them over yours with a firmness and heat you’ve decided that you like. He captures your lips between his, laving them with affection and attention. He pushes you to the wall, pressing himself against your softer body.

The contrast of your softness to his firmness, your delicate build to his strong one, the chill in your frame to his delicious warmth, the light, floral scent of you to his musky, blankety cologne —everything about the two of you in this position, bodies pressed at your intimate regions ignited your core.

You are barely holding onto your sanity when he pulls away, leaving you panting.

“Have I told you yet?” He asks softly, slightly panting his words, “You look so beautiful tonight.”

He rubs his large thumb over your heated cheeks, cupping your face. Your cheeks burn harder, as you feel your heart soar.

Before you are able to say anything in return, he latches onto you again. He moves from your lips to your jaw to your neck, ling harder, determined to leave marks.

People need to know you weren’t available and that you were his.

You are mewling and squirming under him, clearly willing to take things further when the loud ring of your phone startles you. You tap on his shoulders, wanting him to move off you.

“Ignore it,” He mutters between harsh to your skin, “It can wait.”

“No.” You gasp, as he nips at your sensitive skin, “It-It might be important.”

“More important than me?” He pulls away, hands cupping your face, looking meek.

You roll your eyes and push him away reflexively, running away to find your obnoxiously loud phone. You curse when you stub your tone on a table, and you hear a careful and are you hurt from Namjoon but you wave him off, stumbling in pain.

When you do find your phone on a side table, the call is disconnected. You groan, opening it up to notice Jangmi’s name in the missed call notification.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon had followed you to your bed, “Who was it?”

“Your sister,” You say, wincing as you climb on your bed. You might’ve to check on your toe after this. Namjoon rolls his eyes at the mention of his beautiful sister.

“What does the brat want?”

“What do you think she wants?” You ask, curiously.

This is the first time Jangmi is brought up in a conversation between the two of you and you are interested to know what he thinks of Jangmi, to know his side of the sibling dynamic.

“Stalker information on Taehyung, what else.” He sighs in mock disappointment. You begin to try and support your friend —stand up for her like any other friend from the slander her brother is going to put her through, but he stops you.

“Don’t.” He raises a palm at you, “We all know she’s calling you for that very reason.”

You lean back, because honestly, he was right —partially. But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right.

“Maybe she just wanted to congratulate me—”

“No need to stick up for her,” He shakes his head, “We both know she’s only calling to know what Taehyung did at the party tonight.”

“Maybe she wants to check up on me, we are best friends after all.”

“Whatever helps you sleep.” He grins mockingly. You roll your eyes, because you don’t have an apt reply. He studies your silence, then grabs your hand, pulling you to him. “We can continue—”

“No,” You snap, smirking, “I need to talk to your sister first.”

“Why?”

“To give her stalker information on Taehyung, of course!” You smile wider, pushing him away. “You should go, Namjoon. Good Night.”

“So you are choosing the other Kim.” He says, his tone indignant.

You only smile innocently. “Obviously.”

Once you had carted a reluctant Namjoon out of your room, you dialled your best friend. You prop your phone on a pillow, so the camera caught your view. You lean against the headboard, waiting for Jangmi to pick up.

“Finally!” Jangmi exclaims, “Took you long enough to call me back!”

“I had to send Namjoon away—”

“What? He came to your room?” She gasps, clutching her hands to , “Why? Wait— Did you just come back?” She asks, and you nod, “Why? You don’t know your way to your room? Did you forget?” She asks, snickering like it was a very funny joke.

“Shut up if you want to know about your Taetae.” You threaten her, and she promptly shuts up, pouting and glaring at you.

“I did not call you to only know about him,” She tries, but you raise a palm as if to stop her. “Your brother doesn’t think so,”

“He’s a filthy liar,” She accuses. “I wanted to check up on you. You are one step away from becoming my sister-in-law and Omma’s been sending me pictures of the two of you lovebirds at the party, I just wanted to see it for myself,”

“What?”

“You two, Mr. Kim Namjoon and Miss Baek Nari looking like the next power couple and cozying up—”

“What are—”

“No. No-no,” Jangmi raises her finger as if to shush you, “Nuh-uh uh,” She wags her finger at you, “—you and my brother very much looked ready to explore each other on the very couch—”

“Stop. Stop. Stop.” You flail your arms, as if trying to stop the words from entering your bubble, “Oh my god— don’t say—”

“Explore,” She cackles again, emphasising the word, “You two looked just about ready to pounce on each other—” She grins, mischievous eyes shining at you reddening steadily.

“If you don’t stop right now,” You stutter out, trying to keep a stern face, “I swear, Kim Jangmi, I will not utter a word about Kim Taehyung.”

Jangmi sighs, rolling her eyes, “Such a spoilsport,” She clicks her tongue in disappointment.

“My brother’s spoilsport germs are contaminating you,” She continues in a solemn tone, mimicking a doctor who’s about to deliver some life-changing news, “You’ll probably only get worse as you hang around him more.” She nods to herself gravely, “I’m so sorry, Ms. Baek, I’m so sorry that we couldn’t save your fun—”

“So Dr.Kim, do you want to know about Tae or not?” You press, willing your burning cheeks to calm down.

You couldn’t just go around blushing everytime Namjoon is mentioned. You were a grown woman for heaven’s sake, not a teenager having her first crush. She clicked her tongue, muttering a spoilsport under her breath and looking at you, “Was he there?”

“Of course, he was!” You assure her happily, “Everybody was there to witness my doom.”

“Director Baek!” Juyeon comes running through the door of your office, looking frazzled, “Someone’s here for you!”

You look up from your laptop, surprised at your usually calm secretary looking so out of it.

“Do they have an appointment?” You ask, eyes back on the digital screen. “Isn’t that the norm you insist upon?”

Juyeon has been your aide since the time you joined Jeon Corps. Over the years, she insisted that you have visitors and clients make an appointment with you instead of dropping by and that rule applied to everyone except Jungkook, who just charmed his way regardless.

“It’s him!” She exclaims, “Your fiancé! He’s here to see you!”

“Namjoon?” Your eyes are wide as you ask her and she nods in affirmation. “Why is he here?”

“I-I don’t know,” She breathes heavily. You wonder if she just caught a look at him and ran up to tell you. “—but he looks so angry and—”

“He always looks angry,” You tell her, a small smile gracing your lips. “That’s his resting face.”

“He’s coming here!”

“So? Why are you so scared?” You say, almost nonchalantly.

“Isn’t Bangtan scary in general?” She says unsurely, “—and he’s the next Don, so he’s definitely scarier.”

“I get that he looks scary but you don’t have to be scared, Juyeon.” You try to calm her down, “He won’t do anything—”

The door to your office is flung open and Namjoon saunters in, not even bothering with a knock.

If you weren’t caught off guard by his actions, you were by his look for the day.He was wearing a black shirt with rolled sleeves letting you admire his large, veiny arms and hands. His black trousers showed off his strong thighs and long legs with shiny shoes and his hair was pushed back.

“Why ar