The familiar, heavy bass of Velvet Night throbbed in Ji-Hoon's chest as he pushed through the gilded doors. He didn't want to be at his new "home." He didn't want to see the dust in that guest room or the cold, indifferent eyes of Han Seo-Yeon.
In the center of the VIP lounge, Min-Ho was sprawled across a sofa, a drink in his hand and three beautiful women draped around him, laughing at a joke. When he saw Ji-Hoon, he waved him over with a mischievous grin.
"Clear out," Min-Ho told the girls, patting their hands. "I'll find you later."
The girls pouted but left quickly. Ji-Hoon collapsed into the velvet cushions, looking like a man who had just returned from a funeral rather than his own wedding.
"So," Min-Ho leaned in, "how's the new house? How's the wife? Did you survive the wedding night?"
Ji-Hoon's eyes flashed with a dangerous light. "If you say another word about her, I'll trash you out of this club personally."
Min-Ho held up his hands, smiling. "Rough, huh? Anything actually happen?"
"She makes my blood boil," Ji-Hoon hissed, reaching for a bottle of expensive Scotch. "I don't know how the hell I'm going to survive three months with that woman. She treats me like a stranger she's forced to tolerate."
"You can do it, bro," Min-Ho said, standing up and checking his watch. "I've gotta head out. Early flight tomorrow. But good luck... tomorrow is your first day at her company, right? May the gods have mercy on you."
Ji-Hoon watched him leave and signaled the butler for a fresh glass. He sat alone, the blue ice of the club's lighting making his sharp features look even more handsome. He took a long, slow drink, his eyes fixed on nothing—until a woman approached.
Her name was Mina. She was strikingly beautiful, wearing a tight, short skirt and a fitting top that left little to the imagination.
She slid onto the sofa beside him, holding her own drink.
"Why is a man like you drinking alone?" she asked, her voice like honey. "I'll accompany you."
Ji-Hoon looked at her, his mind clouded by frustration and alcohol. "Suit yourself, Mina."
They began to talk, the conversation light and flirtatious. Mina leaned in closer, her scent filling his senses. Suddenly, she moved. Her face was inches from his, and she closed the gap, her lips pressing against his in a deep, desperate kiss.
Ji-Hoon didn't pull away. He needed a distraction from the coldness of his life. Mina stood up and climbed onto his lap, her legs spreading over his knees as she sat face-to-face with him. Their mouths fused together in a frantic rhythm. Ji-Hoon's hands slid down to her thighs, his fingers tracing the edge of her skirt. He began to slide his hand underneath the fabric, his touch moving slowly upward as his mouth traveled to her shoulder.
Vrrr. Vrrr. Vrrr.
Ji-Hoon froze. The vibration in his pocket was violent. He pulled his hand out from under her skirt, breathing heavily. He pulled out the phone.
Yoo Ara.
He answered immediately, but the voice on the other end wasn't the woman he loved. It was an older man, sounding tired and annoyed.
"Hello? Are you family to the owner of this phone?" the man asked.
"I am," Ji-Hoon said, his voice sharp with worry. "Who is this?"
"I'm the owner of a roadside stall near the Han River. This girl has been here for two hours. She drank six bottles of Soju and passed out on the table. We're closing up, and I found your number at the top of her list."
Ji-Hoon's heart dropped. "Six bottles? Don't let her go anywhere. I'm coming right now."
Mina tried to lean back in for another kiss, her lips brushing his cheek. Ji-Hoon pushed her away firmly and stood up.
"I have to go," he said, his tone turning icy.
"Wait! At least tell me your name," she called out, reaching for his hand.
Ji-Hoon didn't even look back. "Knowing my name won't make us closer. We aren't that kind of people."
He stormed out of the club, ignoring the bows of his staff. He tore through the streets in his Lamborghini until he reached the small, glowing tent of the roadside stall. The owner pointed toward a slumped figure at a corner table.
"She's been crying and drinking since the news came on," the owner said.
Ji-Hoon felt a wave of guilt so strong it made him sick. He paid the bill, grabbed Ara's handbag, and moved to her side. He gently took her arm and draped it over his shoulder, lifting her limp body into his arms.
He carried her to the car, his heart aching as he felt how light she was. He settled her into the passenger seat, carefully clicking the seatbelt into place. He paused, staring at her face—her makeup was smudged from tears, her breathing shallow from the alcohol.
"I'm sorry, Ara," he whispered, his thumb grazing her cheek. "I'm so sorry."
End of Chapter 11...