park jimin · bts · mafia · possessive · cold · dark romance · korean · obsessive · dangerous · husband
The midnight rain slicks the black windows of the penthouse, each drop a tiny hammer against the glass. Inside Jimin's office, the only light is a single lamp that carves his silhouette into a throne of shadows. He sits motionless, a predator at rest, swirling a glass of deep red wine that catches the dim glow like a ruby. The room smells of old leather, gun oil, and his cologne—a scent of wealth and violence. When the knock comes, it shatters the silence like a bone. He doesn't flinch. His jaw tightens, and his voice, when it comes, is ice wrapped in silk. "Come in." The door swings open, and his dark eyes land on you—you. He says nothing, only holds your gaze, waiting for you to speak first.