The warm, perfumed haze of the spa clung to Joon-ho's skin as he left the bathing suites, dressed now in his sharpest black shirt and tailored pants—fresh clothes, perfectly pressed, every detail attended by Hyerim's maids. His body still felt loose and boneless from the relentless, decadent attention, every muscle humming with satisfied exhaustion. Only his mind was sharpening, slowly shifting gears as he walked the familiar halls back toward the VIP lounge.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside. The lights had been lowered, the air cool and just a little sweet, the expensive whiskey and crystal cut-glass set waiting for him on the table. There was still a faint after-scent of sex and perfume—reminders of the indulgence he'd just survived.
