Ch-16 challenge

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Jungkook's pov

My computer dings with a notification. There's an email from Terri, and there's only one thing in the subject line. WE GOT THE PROJECT! KEEP IT UNDER WRAPS. SEE YOU MONDAY.

My smile feels massive. We got it. Not my design, and I was a last-minute stand-in, but still. We got the project.

As I'm reading her email, my phone starts to ring. It's Taehyung. I answer it with a smile still etched on my face. "Hello, sir."

"I just heard the good news," he says. "Well done, Mr Jeon. The project was awarded to Kim & Ryu."

"The project was practically finished when I joined."

His voice darkens. "You were given one week to prepare, and then you performed. Accept the compliment."

I feel flushed, both with joy at the project and his words. "Thanks for putting me on the assignment."

"It wasn't a favor. I knew you were capable." His words are kind, but there is something else hiding in his tone. It's too sharp.

"Did you just land in Seoul?"

"Yes."

"How was Chicago?"

The pause is infinitesimal, but it's there. "Over with."

Ah. So he turned the development offer down, then.

I shouldn't push, but I think about what he told me the other day, about the weight that obviously rested on his shoulders. Not knowing everything wasn't an excuse for not caring.

"How did your friend take it?"

There's another pause. "Not particularly well."

The silence between us stretches on. I know what I would say to a friend— easy. But not to my boss, who is sometimes so professional it borders on rude, and sometimes so familiar I think we're friends.

"You had to follow your intuition," I finally say. "That's all anyone can do. And for the record, I think the decision was sound."

He harrumphs, a masculine sound, low in his throat. It's easy to imagine that his lips are right by my ear, the deep voice like coarse silk. "I'll be at the office soon."

"All right."

And then he hangs up, and I slump back at my chair, glancing at the time. I'll have to work late today as well, it seems. Only this time it's by choice. I focus on expense reports. On the agenda for a meeting with the in-house architects next week. On Taehyung's calendar. But when the elevator finally dings, and he walks down the corridor to me, my heart is a beating drum in my chest.

To anyone else I'm sure he'd look his perfect self. Not a hair out of place, his suit immaculate even after the flight. Broad shoulders speak of strength— capable of carrying the world. But when his eyes meet mine, the communication is instantaneous between us. Something is wrong.

"Sir?"

He closes his eyes briefly and pinches the bridge of his nose. I know what's going to happen. He's going to tell me to leave, to enjoy my Friday night, and then he's going to shut himself into his office like he so often does. Away from life, from food and laughter and conversation. Does he have friends? If so, I haven't seen any of them.

He nods to his office door. "Join me."

"Sure."

I stand on shaky legs and follow him in. He goes straight to his bookcases, opens one of the smaller cabinets and pulls out a bottle half-filled with amber colored liquor.

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