Yoon Jeonghan and Kim Ara are like ships passing in the night, unaware of each other's existence. However when Jeonghan's dad, who runs a big company, cheats on his wife with Ara's mom, who works as his secretary, everything gets messy and Jeonghan...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
*･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ ✧.*
They locked eyes in an intense gaze, and Ara was left stunned by his behavior.
His hand traveled to her waist, and his face drew inches closer to hers. Ara could feel the anger radiating from his body, the proximity intensifying the overwhelming tension between them.
In a low, seductive yet menacing tone, he inquired, his lips dangerously close to Ara's ear, "Why did that bastard answer your phone when I called you?"
His hand, still firmly on her waist, exerted a subtle pressure, emphasizing his dominance.
"Why do you care?" she asked in a whispered tone, fully aware that she was pushing his limits.
"Ara, don't test my fucking patience. I'm reaching my limit, and you won't like what comes next," he warned, his eyes piercing into hers.
"Let me go," she simply said, her voice firm.
"Answer my question first," he replied immediately, maintaining the same low and intimidating tone.
She, however, remained silent. And it drove him crazy.
"You won't answer?" he pressed, his eyes searching for a response in the depths of her silence.
"You don't have to know, Jeonghan," she replied, shattering even the faintest hope he held of maintaining composure.
Her eyes, however, revealed a chaos of emotions hidden under a mask of indifference.
"Yeah? Is that so?" His voice, a low growl that echoed with both intimidation and danger, sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.
Undeterred, she met his gaze with firm determination, a stubborn woman in the face of his attempt to induce fear.
"I don't repeat myself. Start speaking, right fucking now," he ordered with a commanding presence, his fingers on her waist daringly exploring an upward path.
The unexpected touch sent a jolt through her, her muscles tensing in response to the unwelcome intrusion.
Her eyes, however, reflected a defiant spark, a silent rebellion against his attempt to impose control.
She remained silent, choosing resistance over submission.
His hand, initially bearing a deceptive gentleness, continued its upward journey, gliding over her neck.
His fingers, like predators on the prowl, explored the contours of her skin before closing around her throat.
The pressure, calculated and deliberate, allowed just enough space for her to breathe, a stark contrast to the earlier tenderness.
As his fingers encircled her throat, he raised a skeptical brow, noting the palpable uncertainty that flickered across her face.
The touch, once tender, now possessed a pressure, a physical manifestation of his dominance. His eyes bore into hers, an inferno of conflicting emotions—desire and anger dancing in dangerous harmony.
