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His gaze...
In the impenetrable croud of people, his gaze burned her. He titled his head to a side, his lips holding a smirk.
And then he was gone in a blink of eye.
"Chérie"
Startled, she looked at him standing by her side. He swiped his tong...
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✦❘༻ Boyfriend ༺❘✦
┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓
When I get around you, I lose it, 'cause I feel so comfortable with you. You make me comfortable with you.
┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛
Faina traces her finger along the soft curls of her hair, unnecessarily fixing the non existent mess on it. She is nervous. Today is the family dinner and she is about to introduce her fake boyfriend to the whole family. She stands up from the soft cushion of the stool and double checks her reflection in the mirror. Her expensive velvet gown and the rare diamond set her grandmother has gifted to her is all good.
"Mam," a knock on the door tears her gaze away from the mirror. The door opens and her personal maid stands there, head bowed down a little. "He is here."
Climbing down the stairs, anxiety trying to take over all her senses. She keeps her shoulders straight and walks towards the huge garden to the east of the mansion. Her long frock grazes against the damp grass and she tries to keep it off the ground.
"Your garden has beautiful roses Chérie."
She jumps a bit at the sudden spark of conversation and turns towards him. He is standing there, looking all fine and neat. She didn't notice in haste yesterday but he is quite handsome. A grey suit and his parted silver hair with a hint of musk on him, his patented smirk on his thick lips and his hypnotising grey eyes fixed on her.
"It's my mother's. Not mine," she says, firm. He raises his eyebrows and clicks his tongue.
"You should come inside," she says, rubbing her bare hands to pump some warmth in them. It's unbelievably cold outside. It's summer but why?
He notices her discomfort and nods. Sliding a hand around her waist, taking her by surprise, he walks with her towards the mansion.
"Quite a fancy thing you've got here," he whistles.
"My grandfather is a man with a taste," she unlocks herself from his grip and strays a bit far from him.
"I'm trying to imitate the closeness here?" He waves his hand at the empty space between them. She shakes her head looking at him.
"My family is really not fond of skinship or public romance. So," she shrugs. "Besides, your hand is too cold."
Dinner is really boring. Jimin finds himself trying hard to keep his eyes open. The sounds of cutlery and rustle of maids' clothes is audible in the dining hall. The real conversation starts when the dessert arrives. Faina's grandfather pushes his spoon into the smooth mousse before speaking to him.
"I've heard quite decent things about you Mr. Park Jimin. I'm surprised you could really tame her. She listens to almost no one. Not even her mother," he chuckles. Faina's eyes widen as her mouth slowly falls open. Jimin sets his spoon down and smiles.
"She is a wonderful woman. I enjoy her company. She is anything but a rebel," he looks at her and smiles.
"Where does your family hail from Jimin?" With her light brown eyes and a piercing gaze, Lee Seulbi, Faina's mother asks Jimin. Jimin's gaze doesn't waver from her.
"My family roots hail deep from the grounds of Busan. My father owns a fish hatchery, The Park's and my mother keeps herself busy with her famous hanbok line spreading all over South Korea. I believe Faina has already told you about me," he eats the mousse.
"The shell fish in the main course is from The Park's. What a coincidence," her grandfather says through a wrinkled smile. "I heard about your father, he is rather a fine man. I only heard good things about him."
"He is," Jimin flashes a full smile, it's the first time Faina has seen it. It is alluring. She finds herself drowning in his hypnotising smile. For a split second she had thoughts about making him her boyfriend for real.
"Faina," his gentle voice pulls her out of the fantasy world, slapping her with the harsh, cold reality in the face.
"Quite impressive," she says, walking in the garden as she traces the roses with her hand.
"It's me. You can't expect anything less than perfection," he winks.
"But, I must ask," she stops in her tracks and he does too. "My mother would definitely have a background check done on you. Are you sure it's okay?"
"She won't," Jimin says, bringing a frown on her face.
"I know my mother. She is a scary woman," Faina crosses her hands.
"I said she won't," Jimin smiles.
"You seem rather confident but I know-," she gasps when he pulls her by her waist. His thumb rubs on the curve of her waist. She tries to even her breath as he looks deep into her eyes.
"Don't ever argue with me. I only speak about things I'm sure of," he says, his lips rather close to hers. Almost brushing against hers. She is too stunned to speak so she just nods.
"You look gorgeous," he compliments her in the tense situation. She gulps and blurts out a 'thank you'
"It's tight. Your grip," she lowers her gaze.
"I want to kiss you. May I?" Jimin asks. Faina's breath spikes again. She is tempted. It has been running through her mind during dinner. She still remembers the first time she kissed him. Warm and soft.
"Will you be gentle?" She looks up again. Staring down at her are a pair of pretty grey eyes.
"Of course," he leans in. Touching his soft and thick lips to hers. His hand runs down her waist to her buttocks. Squeezing them gently as he sucks her lips. Her hand grips his shoulders and lets him taste her. Poking his tongue in and exploring her mouth while she does the same. The vulnerable area between her legs starts to throb and beg for more than a kiss.
He parts, bringing back that smirk on his lips. She is disappointed that the kiss didn't last long.
"See you then," he licks his lips, bringing a dust of rose on her cheeks. She blinks and nods. Watch him walk away, hands in his pockets.
She realises that her heart has been doing summersaults inside. She traces her hand on the lips and smiles to herself.
"Don't fall for him."
She ignores the alarms her brain has been shooting the whole time.
She ignores them like a dried rose in the garden.
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