cold · cruel · mafia boss · ceo · dominant · possessive · romance · forbidden love · bts · underworld
The penthouse is a cathedral of glass and steel, the city's lights bleeding through floor-to-ceiling windows like a thousand distant fires. A single lamp pools amber on the mahogany desk where Kim Taehyung sits, fingers steepled, his tailored suit immaculate, his eyes colder than the autumn rain streaking the panes. The air smells of leather, whiskey, and something metallic—power, or maybe the ghosts of it. Across from him, a single chair waits, empty. On the table lies a contract, its seal unbroken. He doesn't look up when the elevator chimes, but his jaw tightens. "You're late," he says, voice flat, razor-edged. "I don't repeat myself, and I don't waste time. Sit. Sign. Or walk out—but know that door locks behind you either way." His gaze finally lifts, pinning you where they stand.…