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Pairing: Kim Seokjin X Reader
Genre: enemies to lovers; angst; smut; obsession; power imbalance; socioeconomic gap; toxic seokjin; hurt/comfort; bully seokjin; dark romance; billionaire au
Summary: They call him Saint. He's anything but. A monster hidden behind charm, wealth, and a perfect reputation. Seokjin Saint Kim is ruthless, obsessive, and far more cruel than anyone realises. The only thing standing between him and what he wants is...you. Too bad he's not willing to let that stop him.
Warnings: mentions of child abuse, physical violence, family trauma, ableist language, manipulation, obsession, emotional abuse, psychological abuse, explicit, coercion, threats, blood/injury, power imbalance, strong language, alcohol use, smoking
Chapter-specific warnings will be added at the beginning of each chapter.
Taglist: @writtenbyjm @withmuchluv-tannie @iheartwonnieee @gaslysainz @lachimolala-is-love-and-life @ithinkthereforeidont @idk-what-myurl-shouldbe @tahialuvss @jinkoo94 @punchbug9-blog @bebabido @evtrack @blueberriesm @jungkookgoodlookin @devilzliaison @kittenwithpearls @somewhereinmymemorysblog @mysteris-things
a/n: sigh⊠this was one hell of a chapter to write. đ„Č especially Seokjinâs past. i kinda teared up a little while writing it. but hey, the catâs finally out of the bag, and from here on out (hopefully) things only get better⊠for a little while. đ HOWEVER, NEXT CHAPTER IS SMUT, so everybody brace yourselves up! đŠ
and, as always, please leave a comment if you enjoyed the chapter! they genuinely make my day and keep me motivated to write. âĄ
You met Seokjin at the airport. He wore a cashmere sweater, tailored slacks, and his usual donât-fuck-with-me scowl. The freezing New York wind had painted his cheeks and the tips of his ears a dark shade of pink and you were again struck by how devastatingly beautiful he was.
Once he saw you, Seokjin didnât bother with a greeting. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, and started walking without a word. You rushed after him, practically jogging to keep up with his long strides.
Yes, you were late but it wasnât exactly easy packing up your entire life in less than two hours.
He hadnât given you nearly enough time to cram everything you owned into boxes, move into the apartment youâd yet to even see, and also drill Bella on everythingâher medicines, meals, emergency contactsâmaking her promise sheâd call you if anythingâanythingâfelt off.
Youâd also told Bella the truth about taking the job.
Or at leastâŠpart of it.
Her first reaction had been to press the back of her hand against your forehead.
When you only stared at her, sheâd frown.
âAre you sick? Did you hit your head recently?â
You couldnât even blame her. Working for Seokjin sounded about as sensible as volunteering to wrestle a bear.
Bella had begged you to quit.
Sheâd even offered to defer university for another year if it meant easing the financial burden.
Youâd shut that conversation down immediately.
âYou know itâs Saint, right?â sheâd asked, completely flabbergasted. âHeâs bad news in big bold capital letters. If anyone knows that, itâs you.â
She didnât even know the whole story. No one did. Youâd never told your family that Seokjin was the reason you left Blackwood.
Your parents wouldâve blamed themselves. All three of them wouldâve packed their bags and followed you without a second thought. You couldnât let them throw away the life theyâd built because of you.
So you lied. Youâd spun some story about New York offering better opportunities. Ofcourse, your parents had refused at first.
You had to become the difficult daughter, argue, slam doors, say things you regretted the second they left your mouthâŠ
âI know better this time,â youâd assured Bella. âIâm not letting him get to me again.â
She studied you for a minute before letting out a humourless laugh. âThatâs not what Iâm talking about, and you know it.â
You had a puzzled expression on your face.
She shook her head, exasperated. âIâve seen the way you used to look at him. You liked him.â
âThen why did you kiss him?â
Bella rolled her eyes.âBecause I was fifteen and he was gorgeous?â
He still is. You thought bitterly.
Then, her face softened a bit, âAnd I didnât know back then that you liked him. It was one kiss. It didnât mean anything.â
It had meant everything to me.
For one ugly second, resentment curled in your chest before you shoved it back where it belonged. Bella had done nothing wrong.
Instead, you gave her a small nod and a smile. âI know, you little devil.â
Before you left, sheâd made you promise to tell your mother that she was pregnant. The two of you had dissolved into hysterics imagining your poor motherâs reaction.
Seokjin snatches the duffel bag off your shoulder without so much as a warning, never once breaking stride. It wasn't some grand act of chivalry. The bag had been slowing you down, and that inconvenienced him. He carried nothing more than a slim leather laptop bag himself.
JFK was absolute chaos this time of year. People shoved past one another, announcements echoed overhead, children crying around in the distance.
None of it bothered you. You were finally going home. In a few hours, youâd finally be wrapped in your motherâs arms again after what felt like a lifetime apart. God, youâd missed her.
The moment you stepped into the cabin, your mouth fell open. Youâd never flown business class before let alone one that looked like this.
You slid into the seat beside Seokjin, still taking everything in while he had already opened his laptop, fingers moving across the keyboard furiously.
You watched him for a moment before breaking the silence. âI think we need to get a few things straight. Youâre not my boyfriend or lover.â
Seokjin didnât look up. He simply raised one dark brow, fingers still moving over the keyboard.
You continued, âSo Iâd appreciate it if you stopped threatening every man who talks to me. Itâs none of your business, really.â
âMy employees screwing around in my office is very much my fucking business and Ethan is a fucking douchebag. So, I kind of did you a favour.â
Favour? My ass. You scoffed.
Seokjin stopped typing and slowly turned his head towards you, his voice dropping an octave lower, âBesides I have no interest in being your boyfriend, Help.â
His gaze settled on yours before drifting lower for a brief second.
âWhat I want,â his tone darkened, sending chills down your arms, âis to bend you over the table and fuck you hard and fast till that snappy little mouth no longer can talk back.â
He wasnât even looking at your eyes anymore. His attention remained shamelessly fixed on your lips, and suddenly the cabin felt too warm.
âAnd I know you want that too,â he leaned in until his hot breath ghosted across your cheek.
âDonât you?â He taunted, lifting his eyes to yours, and the look in them made you gasp. Dark, hooded, and heavy with want.
Your chest heaved up and down in shallow breaths. You suddenly became hyper-aware of everything all at once. The fabric clinging to your skin, the loose strands of hair brushing the back of your neck, the warmth of him invading your space. And above all, that intoxicating scent of him, seeping into every breath you took.
You wanted to tell him off, to wipe that infuriating look off his face, but deep down you knew that when push came to shove, your resolve wasnât nearly as unshakable as you wanted it to be.
âNo,â you lied, willing your voice not to shake. âI donât. Youâre wrong.â
Seokjin tsked softly. He reached over and brushed his thumb against your mouth, easing your bottom lip free from where youâd been unconsciously biting it.
âYouâre a terrible liar.â
His thumb lingered against your lip, tracing it with maddeningly slow deliberate strokes. He looked like he would devour you any moment now, his pupils blown wide, entirely swallowing the brown of his irises.
His touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, the sensation racing down your spine. Heat crept up your neck as your lips parted on an involuntary breath.
He smirked thenâ knowing and arrogant. But finally withdrew his hand.
You didnât need a mirror to know your face had turned bright red. Embarrassment settled heavy in your chest as you silently cursed yourself for handing him exactly what he wantedâproof that he affected you.
Desperate to occupy yourself, you reached for the water bottle beside you, taking a long sip in hopes of cooling the heat that refused to leave your face.
Then a thought struck you. You turned to him.
âWill Nate be there?â you asked worriedly. âIs he still in Blackwood?â
A muscle ticked in his jaw, his face hardening in that familiar way it always did when something displeased him. He said nothing, eyes fixed ahead as if he was debating whether to answer at all.
âNate isnât in Blackwood right now,â he replied eventually, his voice flat. âHeâs in LA. He wonât be coming by during our visit.â
You let out a quiet sigh, relieved that you wouldnât have to see him after everything that had happened.
âWhat about the others?â you found yourself asking.
âNate was in New York until a few weeks ago. Then I took over. When we switch back, Iâll head back to L.A. Yoongiâs in Chicago. Jiminâs in London.â
âYou guys switch often?â
He shrugged. âTwice a year.â
âThat soundsâŠexhaustingâ You scrunched your nose. âAnd needlessly complicated.â
âIâll make sure to pass your professional assessment along to the board,â he replied dryly. âIâm sure theyâll value the opinion of someone who serves drinks for a living.â
You let out a slow breath and looked away.
Heâs back to being an insufferable asshole.
âWe donât usually move around this much,â he gritted out.
You didnât look at him.
âWe donât usually stay away this long,â Seokjin continued, the words sounding forced. âA week, maybe two. This time was⊠different.â
It was his version of an apologyâor whatever he was capable of giving.
But it wasnât enough. So you said nothing. You knew Seokjin wasnât kind, youâd grown used to his rudeness and barbed remarks.
Seokjin wasâŠAbrasive. Rude. Cruel, more often than not.
But that knowledge didnât make it hurt any less. After all, acceptance was a far cry from immunity.
A few moments of silence passed before Seokjin spoke again.
âHow long have you been supporting your sister?â His eyes skimmed over you. His voice lacked its usual edge, regret softening the words before they reached you. You knew he was trying, so you answered.
âLong enough,â you murmured.
Silence settled between you once more.
You leaned further into your seat and closed your eyes, trying to relax.
You could feel Seokjinâs eyes on you, but he didnât say anything and neither did you.
You did not want to sleep with your bully.
But then why else did you sometimes dream about him? Why else did you find yourself wondering what his hands would feel like on your skin? What it would be like to stop fighting the magnetic pull that had always existed between you.
You told yourself it was only a physical thing. You werenât unfamiliar with the way your body reacted whenever Seokjin was aroundâthe strange butterflies in your stomach, the way your heart seemed to trip over itself whenever he looked at you for too long.
But you also knew yourself.
You had never been the kind of person who could separate the physical from everything else. The idea of something casual made sense in theory, but it had never been something you could actually see yourself doing. Not that you had any real experience with it to begin with, but somehow, you already knew it wasnât something you were capable of.
And with Seokjin? It wasnât even a possibility.
Getting involved with himâof all peopleâwould be the biggest act of self-sabotage you could possibly commit.
Seokjin had known for a long, long time that he was completely fucked up.
He had been staring at you for the last hour and a half like a fucking maniac. He couldnât help it when you were sleeping right beside him, so defenceless and blissfully unaware of the storm brewing inside his head.
He lets his eyes wander down to the softness of your sweet plump lips, the vulnerable line of your neck, and the enticing swell of your tits.
Your lips begged him to take you. Your body too.
His heart skipped a beat, and he stopped breathing for a moment. The familiar burn started at the back of his neck, crawling upward until his head felt heavy with it. He could feel heat rush through his cock, every inch of his skin begging to feel you against him.
He needed to have you. Nothing else would satiate the burning need inside him. He didnât want to fuck you; he wanted to consume you â filthy and messy, he wanted to get you dirty.
You really had driven him to madness.
He clenched his fist across the seat, forcing himself to look away.
He needed to get out of here.
But the flight wouldnât land for another hour.
So he tried to bury himself in the biotech merger documents in front of him, but then he noticed you shivering, goosebumps rising along the delicate skin of your neck and arms. The hard, little points of your nipples jutting through your thin shirt.
Seokjinâs cock gave a pathetic little twitch again and he ground his teeth together to keep himself from touching you.
He tore his gaze away from you and back to the screen, trying to continue working.
But he kept stealing glances.
Eventually, he gave in and pulled the blanket over your body.
This was bending the rules. The rules that had kept everything simple. The rules he had never broken for anyone.
He never slept with the same woman twice. Never went on dates. No pillow talk or cuddling.
And most of all, he never let himself want more.
The flight landed at sunset, and the moment Seokjin stepped out of the airport, the familiar California air filled his lungs.
A new beginning. Or maybe the beginning of the end.
And this time, he had brought the girl heâd once driven away from this place with him.
His fatherâs limo waited outside the terminal. You followed behind him, your eyes darting everywhere, taking in every familiar sight you hadnât seen in years.
Seokjin knew you had returned once after your fatherâs death, but heâd already been away in Massachusetts then. That brief visit was the only time youâd stepped foot in Blackwood since leaving.
You looked out the window, pretending he wasnât sitting right beside you.
This weekend was important for him.
You didnât mention the blanket, neither did he. He especially didnât mention how his own fucking brain had nearly detonated when he caught himself doing it.
When the limo finally pulled up around the mansion, you immediately jumped out of it.
âIâll go see my mama,â you told him.
âBe ready by eight sharp. We have somewhere to be.â
You paused. âTomorrow?â
âTonight.â He glanced at his watch. âI have an urgent meeting with my lawyer. I need you there to take notes.â
It was a convenient excuse. He couldnât have cared less about the notes. He just needed you in the room.
There were things he intended to show you. Things you needed to know before he could get you to do the job heâd actually hired you for.
âOkay,â You replied and headed towards the servant quarters.
Seokjin stayed outside the mansion, taking it in.
The place where it all started.
The place where it would end.
He could feel it deep in his bones. His blood ran hot at the images flashing through his mindâthis house burning, everything his father and Katherine had loved reduced to ash.
From the corner of his eye, he saw you launching yourself into your motherâs arms the moment she opened the door. The two of you were a mess of tears and laughter, your giggles carrying across the courtyard.
When Seokjin stepped through the front doors of the mansion, no one greeted him.
Seokjin couldnât remember a time when heâd had someone waiting for him, let alone someone genuinely happy to see him.
The thought made him laugh.
His stepmother wasnât home. She was probably halfway drunk on a yacht somewhere off Capri, and thank fuck for that.
He called out anyway, a manic glint flashing in his eyes despite the fact that he already knew there would be no answer.
His father had been trapped in that room for months nowâunable to speak, unable to move, unable to do anything but exist.
Just like his mother had been, the few days before she died.
Victor Rothschild was dead.
Sebastian Beaumont Kim was halfway there.
And Katherine Rothschild Kim would be left with nothingâpenniless, abandoned, with no one left to shield her from the world sheâd spent a lifetime looking down on.
Karma, at long last, for the murder of Vivienne Saint Kim.
Seokjin made his way upstairs, the heavy silence of the mansion following him until he reached his fatherâs bedroom. Dark wood paneling, drawn curtains, the stale scent of medicines in the air.
His father laid motionless on the bed, the steady beeping of the heart monitor the only sign he was still alive. His mind remained lucid, trapped inside a body that could no longer obey him. He couldnât move his limbs. On good days, he could barely lift a finger.
Heâd once called Seokjinâs mother a burden. Now, lying helpless in bed, he had become one himself.
What goes around comes around.
He called out again, making sure the old man was awake enough to hear what came next.
Leaning against the doorframe, Seokjin took his time looking at him.
The man who had ruined his life looked like a cheap imitation of the monster he used to be.
Bald. Waxy. His skin had lost all colour, stretched thin enough for blue veins to snake beneath it. The body that had once towered over everyone had withered into something pitiful, barely able to move beneath the blankets.
Seokjin looked nothing like him. Heâd inherited his motherâs face instead.
It was the one thing they had never been able to beat out of him. He had his motherâs sharp cheekbones. Her dark eyes. Her mouth.
Every feature he possessed was a reminder of the woman his father and Katherine had despised.
Which, Seokjin supposed, explained why Katherine had hated his guts so much.
âDonât lie, son. Katherine and Victor would never do such a thing,â heâd scolded after Seokjin showed him the bruises. The cuts and the purple fingerprints blooming across his skin.
âShe locks me in there with him,â little Seokjin had argued for what felt like the millionth time, his eyes rimmed red and puffy from crying.
âKatherine says you do this to yourself. Is this about attention, Saint? Is that what you want?â
He did not want attention.
What he wantedâŠwas his mother.
And years later, when he finally understood what his father had done to her, what he wanted changed.
He wanted a dead fucking father.
When Seokjin was little, his world had been no bigger than his mother.
They spent entire afternoons in the gardens together, dirt beneath their fingernails as she taught him the names of flowers he never remembered. They watched cartoons together, read books, and she told him stories until he fell asleep.
His father was hardly ever around, always away on another business trip, and Seokjin couldnât have been happier.
Even as a child, he knew to keep his distance from his father.
There had always been something about him that made Seokjin instinctively shrink. The permanent scowl. The hard lines carved into his face. The coldness in his eyes. The way the entire house seemed to hold its breath whenever he walked through it.
His mother was the exact opposite.
Her laughter filled rooms. Her hands were always warm, her eyes soft and full of love. Seokjin genuinely believed nothing bad could ever happen as long as she was around.
He still remembered the day he came home from school to find the house in complete disarray.
The next thing he knew, he was standing in a hospital room.
His mother lay unmoving on the bed, tubes disappearing into her body, an oxygen mask covering her face.
He quietly took her handâthe only one without needles in itâand stayed beside her until he fell asleep.
He woke to his father pulling him away.
Seokjin cried, kicked and screamed the entire way home.
A few days later, his mother was brought back to the mansion.
They moved her into the farthest room at the end of the east wing. It barely resembled a bedroom anymore. To Seokjin, it looked more like a miniature hospital.
She couldnât speak anymore. She could barely move. Most days, sheâd only blink in response whenever he rambled on about school or the flowers beginning to bloom outside her window.
It wasnât enough but it was okay, atleast, she was here.
Whenever nightmares woke himâwhich was oftenâheâd quietly slip out of bed and sneak into her room. Heâd take her free hand and rest it against his head before curling up beside her. She never held him back, never whispered sweet words to him like she used to.
Even so, her presence and the rhythm of her breathing soothed him enough to fall back asleep.
One afternoon, after spending nearly an hour making her a greeting card with clumsy little drawings of flowers she loved, Seokjin hurried towards her room, eager to show it to her. Just as he reached the door, he heard voices from inside.
It was his father and his motherâs best friend, Katherine.
âAre you sure your brother will keep his mouth shut?â Sebastianâs deep voice carried through the library door. âI canât afford anyone finding out. One whisper is enough to destroy everything Iâve built.
âHe will,â Katherine replied. âTrust me, honey, I made sure of it.â
âIâm not a bad man, Katherine.â his father exhaled heavily. âI never thought itâd come to this. I just⊠I donât want to spend the rest of my life carrying this burden.â
It had been only weeks since Seokjinâs mother had returned from the hospital. He was five years old. His sixth birthday was only days awayâfar too young to understand what any of it meant.
He collected every word spoken through that library door, storing them away until, years later, the pieces finally fit together.
By nine, he could recite that conversation word for word.
By elevenâŠHe finally understood it.
âGod knows how she survived it.â Katherine snarled. âMy brother gave thorough instructions.â
âHeâs incompetent, I told you,â Victor gritted out.
âBaby.â Katherineâs voice was sickeningly sweet. âWhatâs done is done. We have to end this. Look at her. Sheâs no better than a garden vegetable now, weâd be doing her a favour.â
âDonât start growing a conscience now.â Her voice hardened. âWhatâs the difference now? Youâre only finishing what shouldâve happened weeks ago.â
ââŠWhat about Saint? What about my son?â
âWhat about him? Heâs five.â She laughed softly. âIâll raise him. He wonât even remember her.â
He wasnât supposed to be there the day he first saw Victor Rothschild in his house.
Heâd come home sick from school, feverish and lightheaded, the housekeeper had to pick him up before lunch.
He dropped his backpack onto the floor of his bedroom, but instead of crawling into bed, he wandered towards his motherâs room.
All he wanted was to curl up beside his mom. He always did when he fell sick.
The man didnât notice him. He was just stepping out of his motherâs room, quietly shutting the door behind him. Seokjin frowned, ready to ask if he was the new nurse.
âYou should be in bed, Saint,â the housekeeper called from the bottom of the stairs. âYou have a fever. Donât bother your mother. You donât want to make her sick.â
He never got to curl up beside her after that afternoon.
Barely twenty minutes later, her actual nurseâa woman, not the man Seokjin had seen leaving the roomâcame running into the hallway, shouting for an ambulance.
His motherâs respirator had been clogged.
âYou hanging in there?â Seokjin smiled at his father.
His eyes blinked, but he said nothing. Not because he didnât have anything to say. Because he couldnât.
Seokjin, however, had plenty.
Enough words to haunt him. Enough words that, if he was lucky, might be the last thing his father ever heard.
Wouldnât that be wonderful?
Seokjin had spent years imagining this moment.
âSorry for dropping in unannounced. I needed to see Eli Parker about your will.â
As far as his father knew, they were still on good terms. The last time theyâd spoken, Seokjin had played his part perfectlyâasked about his business, his health, pretended to care.
This was showtime. Revenge time.
âSoâŠâ Seokjin dragged a chair to sit across from him. âAm I the primary beneficiary?â
A pause. âOr did Katherine get everything?â
There were a lot of fucking millions at stake.
âYou know, I always wondered how much you left her.â He tilted his head, amused. âYou always kept your cards close to your chest. Used money the way other people used weapons.â
He hummed. âI bet you made her sign one of those draconian prenups before you even proposed.â
His fatherâs only response was a harsh breath through his nose.
âNo?â Seokjin raised a brow. âMaybe you surprised me. Maybe you actually did the right thing by her. From your perspective, at least.â
He leaned closer. âDoesnât really look that way from mine.â
âConsidering you, Katherine and Victor killed my mother, I think Iâm allowed to have a different opinion.â His lower lip jutted out mockingly.
Sebastianâs eyes widened, darting helplessly towards the hallway. It didnât matter.
âI saw Victor leaving Momâs room that day.â
Panic flashed across his fatherâs face. His fingers twitched uselessly against the sheets, his breathing turning ragged as understanding finally settled in.
âSpeaking of VictorâŠâ He absentmindedly smoothed the wrinkles from the bedsheet. âI was genuinely happy when they found him dead.â His smile widened. âSome people make the world lighter just by leaving it.â
The tubes attached to his father rattled, his entire body trembling with the effort of trying to move, trying to speak, trying to do something.
Seokjinâs voice remained conversational.
âItâs too late to change the will, Dad. Too late to leave everything to Katherine.â He gave a small shrug. âThe doctors have already started questioning your competency. Funny how that works. No oneâs interested in what you have to say anymore.â
Sebastianâs nostrils flared.
âIâm going to dismantle everything youâve built.â Seokjin chuckled under his breath. âPiece by piece. Iâll sell every company, every investment, every last fucking asset.â
He held his fatherâs gaze.
âWhen Iâm done, there wonât be a trace of your name left. Your legacy dies with you.â
He looked around the room before his eyes settled on the ceiling.
âAnd this houseâŠThe one you loved more than your wife. More than your son.â
His gaze returned to his father.
âIâll burn it to the ground.â
Sebastianâs entire body convulsed. Seokjin watched him struggle with detached fascination.
âKatherine wonât have Victor anymore.â His voice softened, though there was nothing gentle about. âAnd she wonât have you either.â
A beat passed and then, âThere will be no one to save herâ
He bent down until his lips were only inches from his fatherâs ear.
His fingers tightened around the old manâs arm.
âI hated you every single day you stayed alive.â
âAnd when youâre deadâŠâ He said through clenched teeth. âIâll make sure thereâs nothing left of you.â
He straightened, taking one last look at the terror trapped behind his fatherâs eyes.
His face was so strained he was blue. This was how Seokjin wanted to remember him.
Seokjinâs fingers trailed absentmindedly over the shelves of the long-forgotten library, the once-grand room now abandoned in dust. It reminded him how this had once been his motherâs favourite place in the house.
Heâd spent countless afternoons here with her, listening as she read to him or curled up beside her with a book far too difficult for him to understand.
After the accident left her quadriplegic, he started bringing those same books to her room. Heâd stumble through Pride and Prejudice and The Bell Jar, mispronouncing half the words and barely understanding the rest.
It didnât matter. Every now and then, heâd catch the faintest twitch at the corner of her lips. And that was worth the effort.
After his mother died, the library became the place where Victor and Katherine took turns beating him. Katherine would lock the door behind while Victor hit him until the rings on his fingers split the skin across Seokjinâs chest. Or when Victor whipped him until angry welts covered his leg only for Katherine to cover them up with another lie when anyone asked.
He shouldâve hated this room. God knew he had enough reasons to.
Because it was also the room that reminded him the most of his mother.
It still carried the faint scent of her perfume, as though the books had permanently absorbed it. Sometimes, when the afternoon sun poured through the windows just right, he could almost picture her sitting in her favourite armchair again, waiting for him to come home from school so he could tell her all about his day.
Seokjin planted his palm against the wooden table, his entire body suddenly beginning to tremble. He felt the needles prick at the back of his throat. He knew what it meant.
Whether it was another episode creeping in or months of insomnia finally catching up to him, he didnât know, but he couldnât afford to lose controlânot now. He still needed your help with the will. And he needed to tell Nate about you before he heard it from his dad.
The sharp buzz of his phone in his pocket finally snapped him out of it. âWhat?â he answered sharply.
âFuck you, asshole,â came the voice on the other end. âYou sent me Ava?â
âFunny way of saying thank you. I figured you two were fucking.â
Nate barked out a laugh. âWe were. Still am, technically.â He didnât sound the least bit bothered. âShe just wasnât too happy walking in on me balls-deep in someone else on your office desk.â
Seokjin clenched his teeth. Every time Nate opened his mouth, he felt a little less guilty about what he had done.
You deserved better than a shitty guy like Nate.
Then againâŠYouâd deserved better than Yoongi. Better than him. Men like them all came from the same rotten stock.
Seokjin rubbed a hand over his face, irritation settling deep between his brows.
âYou offered her a non-standard contract without running it by me. What the hell was going through your head, shithead?â
âNot much,â Nate laughed. âThough I can tell you exactly what was going on under my pants when I signed it.â
Even over the phone, Seokjin could hear the smug grin stretching across his face.
âSo,â Nate continued, âwhoâs your PA in New York? Donât tell me you hired some old, wrinkly grandma.â He snorted.
Seokjinâs voice stayed even, but the muscle beneath his eye twitched as he waited for the reaction.
Nate had already hung up.
Your nap was interrupted by a glowering Seokjin standing in your doorway, staring you down.
His voice was clipped, carrying more edge than usual.
You werenât surprised he hadnât knocked. Seokjin had never been one to respect boundaries. Heâd always barged into your space, your life, as though both belonged to him.
Still groggy, you pushed yourself upright and padded towards the door. He didnât move an inch. Just stood there, watching you with that predatory look that always made your stomach knot.
You squared your shoulders and tipped your chin to look at him. âAre you going to move?â
Instead, he stepped closer.
His gaze drifted over you mockingly, as if asking you to fight back. A heavy, brooding tension rolled off him in waves that made your skin prickle. You stayed locked in your place unable to move all of a sudden.
âRemember Eli Parker?â, he asked.
Eli Parker was Nateâs father. One of Los Angelesâ most sought-after divorce lawyers and the Kim familyâs legal counsel. Youâd met him a handful of times while dating Nate. Heâd always been warm, painfully sweet to you.
Seokjin caught it immediately.
âGood,â he said. âBecause thatâs where weâre going.â
Sitting in the back of the limo, separated from the driver by the privacy screen, you finally found the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at you ever since Seokjin showed up at your apartment.
âAre you getting a divorce?â
Seokjin muses, his gaze never leaving the window. âYou could say that.â
Your heart lurched. Heâs married?
The slight tremor in your voice made you inwardly wince. You try to discreetly wipe your clammy palms against your thighs.
A low chuckle escaped him. âIâm divorcing Katherine. My father could die any day now. Iâd rather not watch my inheritance end up in the hands of his gold-digging wife.â
Your jaw fell open. Just then, Seokjin turned to look at you.
The moment your eyes met, your stomach dropped. You had the unsettling feeling that you were about to become part of whatever war he was waging against her.
With your mother still working under Katherine and you working under Seokjin, you werenât in any position to take sides.
âBecause no one knows whatâs in his will.If Katherine has her way, sheâll contest every line of it. Whateverâs in the will, doesnât mean a damn thing.â
âWhat does she want?â
He gave a shrug. âAs much as she can get.â
You frowned. âDoes it really matter if she ends up with another fifty or a hundred million?â
Seokjin shot you a condescending look, blinking once before turning his face away, as though trying to swallow down the irritation that had suddenly flared inside him.
âItâs not some fifty or a hundred million, itâs billions,â The limo rolled to a stop as Seokjin continued, âAnd itâs not just about the money.â His eyes found yours again. âItâs about karma. Katherine deserves absolutely nothing.â
Nateâs childhood home was a mansion, much like the rest of Seokjinâs friendsâ. But unlike the Kim estate, it wasnât built to intimidate. It wasnât as sprawling or extravagant either. It had warmth. Colour spilled across the walls in paintings and photographs, lights draped inside and outside the house.
Neither of you spoke as the limo idled outside.
You rarely thought about Nate anymore. And when you did, it was with nothing but fondness. Heâd been kind. Funny. Endlessly easy to be around. Always smiling, always making everyone laugh, yet somehow impossible to truly figure out. You never quite knew where the real Nate began and the performance ended. Thankfully, he wasnât here tonight.
You turned to ask Seokjin if you should get out if the car now, only to find him already staring you.
There was something unnervingly intent about his stare, enough to make your stomach knot and your thighs press together unconsciously.
âIf it comes to it,â he said quietly, âI need you to tell Katherine youâre willing to testify.â
âThat she destroyed whatever relationship I had with my father. That she shipped me off to boarding school in London when I was six because she wanted me gone. That she paid teachers to write reports calling me violent. That she sent Victor to beat me whenever I complained. That after I was expelled, he moved here and kept doing it.â He looked at you without blinking. âAnd that every time I tried to tell someone, Katherine insisted I was hurting myself.â
Your breath caught so sharply in your chest that it hurt.
Every bit of colour drained from your face as you stared at him, your mind scrambling to make sense of what youâd just heard. Your pulse roared in your ears as you searched his face for even the smallest sign that he was lying.
You swallowed hard, fingers curling into your lap. âIs⊠is that true?â Your voice came out barely above a whisper
Over the years, youâd thought about the conversation youâd overheard outside the library more times than you could count. Youâd replayed every word trying to make sense of it.
But you always arrived at the same conclusion.
Seokjin had sounded like the one in control.
Confident. Unshaken. Untouchable.
It had never once crossed your mind that someone like him couldâve been a victim of abuse.
âI donât see how thatâs any of your business.â Seokjin replied.
For the first time since youâd met him at the diner, you didnât like his eyes on you. You donât like it at all.
It wasnât fear. Youâd seen Seokjin angry. Cruel. Smug. Mocking.
He was sad. The hurt in his eyes made your heart twist painfully. It hollowed him out, stripping away the sharp edge youâd always associated with him. Looking at him right now felt unbearable, so you dropped your gaze before your own heart could break any further.
âBut we were never close. No one would believe me.â
âPink and Black were.â He said it matter-of-factly. âThatâll be enough for them.â
It was the first time heâd ever acknowledged Pink and Black out loud and you were stunned into silence.
âYou told me this wasnât going to be illegal.â You managed to find your voice. âPerjury is still illegal, Seokjin.â
He let out a tired sigh, dragging a hand down his hair.
âWell,â he said dryly, âfor the amount Iâm paying you, you can afford to take a bullet or two.â
So this was why heâd hired you. It all made sense now. He needed someone Katherine would believe. Someone sheâd think knew him well enough for the story to be convincing.
Except you didnât know him at all. You shook your head and reached for the door handle.
âWhy do you think that Iâd lie for you?â
He smiled, his face slipping back into that familiar, unreadable expression, his eyes a void.
âBecause I asked you to, Help.â
