Park Jimin is tearing his hair out.
His estate has turned into a hotel, and the one man he vowed would never reside under his roof is clogging up his halls and getting on his nerves. The arrival of her enigmatic ex, however, is exactly what Hahm Yun...
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'Fuck.'
Taehyung flinched away from the mirror with a nasty grimace.
The spinal pain was a repugnant reminder of the injury Jimin had inflicted all those weeks ago, but after a steaming hot shower to quell the headache brought on by breakfast, he could not leave the bathroom without his disguise.
And so - inhaling sharply through his nose to steady his equanimity - Taehyung returned to his sour-faced reflection and diligently raised his arm to begin work.
Water dripped from his slicked-back hair, creating a delta of rivulets along his torso that seeped into his waist towel as he tapped the Dermablend onto his damaged cheek.
It wasn't the first time he'd applied the make-up. After Heiran's assistance and a handful of repeated attempts, he was able to pay less attention to the creative task and drift off into the domain of delicious memories stemming from his time with Yunhee so far.
Her radiant smile when he delivered her hairbrush. Escorting him one-on-one to the bedroom Jimin had underhandedly placed him in. Two sunny side ups and a piece of well-done toast.
What an attentive girl she was. And now, thanks to Park Jimin's forthright display of puerile jealousy, he knew exactly how to satiate the woman's hunger each and every morning.
Anything she wished for; he would grant it.
Anything she wanted; it was hers.
Like the bespoke ruby necklace from Graff that Hoseok was en route to collect; a captivating sweetener once he took her home.
Regrettably, he would need to tread carefully during his critically-acclaimed performance because trust was a complicated affair between those that controlled the underground.
Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon's unwavering adherence to Jimin was not to be underestimated. Smart, lethal, and nauseatingly devoted, there was not a chance in hell of changing their allegiance. They were willing to die for their boss, which could easily be arranged should they get in his way.
The saccharine Hobi had spirit, considering what he'd gone through, but Taehyung had neither the time or perseverance to deal with a compassionate bloke who smiled too much and was clearly in love with Yunhee.
The two who'd stayed by his side until their untimely death, however, had potential.
Min Yoongi - a name his tranquil companion had sportively despised - was a fascinating case. Artfully cut-throat, and conceivably skilled like the marksman he'd lost.
Over the years, they'd grown as close as two psychologically spoiled men could get, but despite Taehyung's intuition that Suga and Tae shared a similar bond, there was a cunning glint in this man's eyes that warned him to be prudent before testing the waters of fidelity.
Jeon Jungkook. How fickle and winsome the infant was. Minus a sheath of tattoos and a pack of Esse Special Gold, he was identical to the solid-wall of muscle Taehyung once knew.
