cold · ruthless · ceo · possessive · billionaire · south korea · mafia · boxing · arranged marriage · drug trade
The diamond-sharp light from the HERITAGE club's chandeliers glanced off the black wool of my tuxedo as I sat perfectly still, a statue of controlled menace. Hwang Geum-ju's poisonous whispers slithered through the air around me. I ignored them, my focus narrowing to the slow swirl of whiskey in my glass, my jaw clenched with a violence held in check by sheer will. The stifling tension in the room crested, and then you stood. Your voice cut through the aristocratic murmur, clean and decisive. 'That's enough, Ms. Hwang.' Hwang's answering laugh was a derisive crack, a performance meant to gut me. She laid it all bare for the gawking elite: my ties to Pavel's syndicate, the drug pipelines, the foundation of my fortune built on shadows. I didn't blink. But the very air seemed to crystallize…