CINDERELLA'S CONTRACT | pjm √

fifteen

❝ helicopter.❞

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"Mr Park." I acknowledged his presence as he walks into the room, slightly indifferent than usual. Jimin takes a while before he faces me with a cold expression.

"Get changed," he throws his blazer abruptly on his velvet suede chair, eyebrows knotted slightly. "We're going shopping."

.

"Is this okay?" I asked as I walked out of the changing room, dressed in the most formal attire I owned before coming here. Jimin studies me carefully with a slight smirk on his face. "It's so you," He chuckles, the sides of his eyes crinkling. "I like it."

The two of us made our way to the mansion's garage, where several of his cars were kept. I had the opportunity to choose the car we were going to be in; a simple sedan but still probably worth more than my entire life's rent combined.

"Listen— when we get there, we'll buy the entire rack in your size and you can try it on at home. Pick two bags you like that you can use as well." He states nonchalantly, resting his arm on the steering wheel. I nodded in response, distracted by how his deep eyes were set on me; staring lovingly at me. If there was something about Park Jimin, it was his bedroom stare.

"Welcome to Chanel." the store assistant bowed to Jimin; as if he's a regular in the store. However— when I walked past, she seems to turn her nose up scrutinizingly at me, judging me for my attire.

"Hello, how may I help you today?" She immediately turns towards Jimin, a sweet tone in her voice as she did so. Jimin doesn't seem to care as he instructed her to find dresses in my size.

The shop assistant glares at me coldly, shooting daggers with her eyes. I retreated back to the corner of the store, pretending to look at bags displayed neatly on the shelves. 

"Please don't touch anything if you're not going to buy it." Another shop assistant slaps my hand away as I attempted to hold the bag in my hand.

I was flabbergasted at how rude she was. But at the same time, I couldn't just randomly yell profanities in her face in such an elegant little store, so I decided to be the humble one in this situation and ignore her statement.

"Stop this." a deep voice penetrates through the tension, easing it considerably. I then found my body entangled in the arms of a body I knew well— Jimin's. He presses my cheek against his broad chest, hugging me tightly; much to the astonishment of the shop assistant. "She's my wife." He tells her sternly, with the usual coldness in his voice. "Please treat her well."

A look of shock immediately overlook her face as soon as he said that. "I-I'm incredibly sorry for that..."

However— the least of my concerns were not the attitude of the store assistants, but the paparazzi that were beginning to gather outside the store. My eyes spotted a certain reporter that stood out as he was unkempt and unruly as compared to the rest. He grins widely at us; as if he's plotting something in his head.

"Let's leave quickly, Jimin." I shook his arm, my anxiety to its peak. Jimin nodded in response.

"Is there a backdoor we can exit from?" He turns to the store assistant, in which she hustled over to check.

When I glanced to the back, I spotted the mad paparazzi still looking at us intently. He crouches over curiously, adorned with a huge camera gripped tight in his rough, laboured fingers. His skin was dark and had hair of a tousled, silver mess.

"Sir, there's paparazzi at the back door as well..." the store assistant bows nervously as she catches her breath.

Jimin ponders over the situation in a composed manner as he adjusted his watch. As his fingers expertly worked to fix the Rolex, he faces the shop assistant, deep in thought.

"Does this building have a helicopter pad?"

"H-huh? Yes...." She nods a few times, seemingly confused. He's not going to do what I think he's doing, right?....

And of course— he does. Jimin takes out his phone, fingers tapping quickly on the screen as he dialed his personal butler. "Take the helicopter out," he instructed firmly. "There's business to take care of."

And before I could even comprehend what was happening; it had already happened. A matte black object cascades down swiftly to the rooftop within minutes— before we even got to the top of the building. The sharp pulsating sound of the twirling blades filled my eardrums instantly, accompanied by a sudden fear of heights. "You'll be alright." Jimin seems to understand my trembling hands, and leads me gently to the helicopter. As I touched his hand; it felt strangely cold. Ice cold.

I was about to question it when the paparazzi started rushing up to the roof in thundering formation. Jimin immediately closed the door after pulling me in, giving the signal for takeoff. It wasn't surprising when he begins to dive deep into my neck for comfort, since we were finally in a private space. Although the pilot was at the front, it was separated by a thin black wall, with a small window to communicate.

"Mr Park, you can lie on the seat yourself if you need rest." I tried to push him away when he leans his body intimately on mine. His hands were wrapped around my waist, head lying on the nape of my neck. Strangely enough again— he felt ice cold. Jimin seems to ignore my remark as he dives deeper down my neck, his warm breath hitting my bare skin and sending tingles down my back.

"Shut up...I just want to touch you now." He complains, exhaling a long, winded breath. I wasn't able to complain when he presses his lips intimately on my neck, sucking on it slightly so he marks me; sending static shocks to my system. Especially with his cold touches of his icy fingers, and hot exhales of his melted breaths, I couldn't resist.

It wasn't until his forehead comes in contact with my neck that I felt a surging hotness on my skin. Wait. I quickly realised something and placed my hand onto his cheek that was burning up as well. Jimin stirs a little in my embrace, his chest heaving considerably from how sick he was feeling. "You have a high fever, Jimin!" I pulled him closer into my arms, holding him tightly. Jimin seems to react as I've called him by his name. "It will go away." He states, not caring of it at all.

"No, you need to go to the hospit-

"......Jimin?" I called him, but there was no answer.

"Jimin!"