Pillow Talk ➳p.jm

2| Too Drunk to handle.

❝We did not know that we had it all, but nobody warns you before
the fall.❞

        

 

CHAPTER
TWO

✘✘✘
PARK JIMIN

FUCK. I FUCKIN KNEW IT this woman was trouble. Violet Jefferson, or should I say Violet Park had the most convincing facade I've ever seen in my entire thirty years of life. I've lived far beyond, more than her to know that behind those innocent eyes, was a cunning, conceited woman, desperate to have what she always wanted. She was one of those woman, who would go to any lengths just to have their name attached to a man's. And she exactly did that, because now she was my wife.

Cursed—was the day when I agreed to this marriage, this fiasco I refuse to believe any of it was real until; I saw her the very first time. It was years  ago when she just turned seventeen, and I was twenty-seven, newly declared as the most eligible bachelor.

          I still remember,  her cheery eyes, and flushed cheeks the way her eyes sparked when she caught me standing in the corner; watching her. And—I was too damn arrogant to look away at that point, I knew who she was my soon-to-be-wife.  The fact, that she had an appearance of a venus didn't sit well with me, her bashful appearance and her carefree nature was what drew people towards. Violet, was oblivious of her charm; she didn't know what her smile could do to any man, her hair was a blazing fire cascading down her hips in a luring you into seductive spell, her scent was aphrodisiac, it lingered where ever she walked. Unknown; to everything, she moved around that cafe, as she served tables, smiling innocently at very man, immune to their stares.

It still surprises me to this day, was she pretending to be that innocent, or she really did not know? How every man there that day was fantasizing about her.

Bloody—hell mother, she could've married me to a goat I wouldn't have mind but she had to choose her. I still wish I never married her. This marriage was supposed to be with someone who wasn't her. And definitely did not look anything close to what she looks like. I can say, I hate her, I really do hate her. But, I don't know why I hate her, apart from the part that, we were now married and, this was probably the most I've interacted with her, yet it still didn't justifies my hatred towards her.

Nothing about her was wrong, she was humble, kind and bonded easily with my parents. Everything was too good to be true. Yet, my heart it was still at unease, dreaded with the horrors of our future together, building a family together. A family? Do I even deserve one?

          Lowering my eyes, I let out a laboured breath, as the uncanny thought occupied my senses, leaving me unable to think straight. Not until, I find myself looking back into the eyes of the woman that corrupted my mind, and withered away my bold domineer.

For a minute— I forgot to breathe. I was just beginning to believe that, maybe getting married won't be that hard, and here I was now staring at my wife standing in front of me. Looking like anything close to reality.

She stood there in that, red lingerie my eyes roamed around her body, as I resisted the sudden urge I felt to feel her against my body, she had a perfect body with curves at right places. The valley between her breast was too hollow, straight as my eyes trace the line leading downwards towards her stomach, small, but not at all bony, it was perfect. I could not stop myself, I knew what my body was telling me, I knew how it desires the beauty standing in front, but still I couldn't move. There was still a thread holding me back from doing something, which could ruin my plan, I sighed and looked away until my eyes travel back to her face. She looked like she just went down a cold bucket of water, God her face looked petrified. It almost felt like she was terrified of me, touching her.