because teaser pics hurt and they took the photos in a playboy suite

this is highly suggestive but no because i at that...

It's not every night that you find yourself alone at a hotel bar, lonely and disappointed, all dressed up and nowhere to go.

It hadn't started out that way, of course—you'd had a date who'd never shown up, and you were left to drown your sorrows in your friends Cosmo, Martini, Vodka, Bourbon... among others.

Before you're able to lift even one drink to your lips, however, two strangers slide up on either side of you. You haven't seen them around before, and they have the aura of vacationers about them.

"Lonely?" one of them asks, tilting his head slightly.

"Maybe."

"Stood up?" the other asks, his lips forming a small, sympathetic pout.

"Could be."

He smirks, pulling the napkin from your drink towards him and scribbling something down with a pen from his pocket.

"We'll fix that, if you'd like."

He pushes the napkin back towards you, and beckons to his friend. They both stand up, inclining their heads toward you in farewell, then they walk away, murmuring between themselves too low for you to hear.

You look down at the napkin, neat black lettering clear as can be.

Meet us in room 2824 at midnight. We'll be waiting.

~*~*~*~*~

You tap your manicured fingernails along the walls as you walk through the hallways of the opulent hotel, amazed and somewhat disgusted by the grandeur. You'd always had a thing for the refined, but such over-the-top theatrics always made you cringe.

Perhaps you'd buy out this hotel tomorrow. God knows you'd be doing everyone a favor.

Eventually, you reach the door, 2824 in gold numbers near the top.

The corners of your lips curl up in a smirk as you raise up your fist and rap firmly on the door twice, then return your hand to your side, smoothing out your black silk dress.

The door is opened by a young man with full lips and playful eyes, his brown hair falling over his forehead, the tips just dusting his eyes. His eyes rake over your body approvingly, and he smirks as he extends out a hand toward you.

"Hello, miss. We've been waiting for you. My name is Daehyun."

You place your hand delicately in his and allow yourself to be pulled inside, where another set of hands takes your shawl off your shoulders. You glance behind you, only to see another man, with a dangerous glint in his eyes that didn't quite seem to fit with his round face.

"Thank you," you say, flashing him a quick smile, and he nods, folding the fabric neatly and setting it aside.

"If anything, miss, we know how to treat a lady right."

His voice is huskier than the other man's, and it sends shivers up your spine as his fingers rest lightly on your exposed shoulders.

"Call me Youngjae," he murmurs, sliding his hand a little further down your arm before letting go and walking around you to approach Daehyun.

They exchange words in a foreign language—Korean, your mind supplies as you recognize a few vague words here and there—for a few moments, before they eventually both turn their gaze to you.

"What happens in Vegas?" Daehyun asks, one eyebrow raised playfully as he runs his tongue teasingly over his lower lip.

"Stays in Vegas," you reply, and that's all the encouragement they need.