Taehyung's pov

I choose the seediest place I can find, just to see the expression on his face.

"Let's eat here," I say, stopping in front of a hole-in-the-wall kebab shop. There are a few chairs outside, directly on the sidewalk, but no tables. The place smells like fries and grilled meat.

There's a faint furrow on his brow. "Here?"

"Yes," I say, wondering if he'll call the bluff.

He doesn't, of course-not Jeon Jungkook. He's as competitive as me.

"I love kebab," he says smoothly, stepping up to order. I watch in amused silence as he gets the biggest kebab on the menu, including fries.

"The same," I say, paying for us both in cash. "We'll eat here."

Jungkook frowns at me. "But your meeting? We need to get going."

"It's with the architects at the firm, and it's in-house. We can take ten minutes to eat our lunch."

He nods, but his eyes are wide. I've surprised him several times in the past few minutes, and despite myself, I find that I enjoy it. He's always so sure of himself-of his opinion of me-that it's impossible to avoid needling him. We're sitting right on a bustling Seoul street, and it's not even tree lined. It's not my usual place, sure, but it's worth it to unsettle the unsettlable Jungkook.

He crosses shapely legs, visible even through his smart trousers, and frowns t me. "You made your point," he says. "You eat takeout. I underestimated you."

I run my fingers along the steel table. "You loved that building project."

"I did? I thought I upset you by saying it was run-of-the-mill."

"No, not the outcome. You love being at a building site." It had been clear in his dark eyes when we followed Man-seok. I'd seen the excitement, even if he tried to hide it behind a cool mask and diligent notetaking. But he wasn't as good at hiding his emotions as me.

Jungkook nods, slowly. His slight long hair is smoothed, no trace of the messy pony he'd worn down at the office that night. But it only enhances his fluffy face and the fullness of his lips.

"I do. I can't describe it... but I always have. There's something about the potential, you know? The progression each day, the laying of brick and concrete..." He shakes his head. There's conviction in his voice, and feeling. He burns for this business. "It's hard to explain, but I'm sure you know. You love it too."

I raise an eyebrow. "I do?"

"Yes," he says, eyes challenging again. "At least I think you do."

"And why do you think that?"

"I've met many developers and builders. Most are only interested in dollars and cents, and they wouldn't visit a building site like this. They'd send their middleman. But you knew everything about that project," he says. "Either your memory is infallible, or you genuinely find it interesting."

I glance away from him. There's truth in his words, more truth than most people guess. It was the reason I was drawn to the same business as my father in the first place. Creating-building-is the closest to making things last. To bringing something to life, something that might or might not outlast you.

But for my father, money and legacy was the important part. Not the architecture-not the art.

"I enjoy it," I say carefully. "And I find that it's often more effective if I get involved myself."

"Remind everyone who's boss?" Jungkook asks, his voice clearly teasing. It never stops surprising me how easily he switches between the professional and the friendly.

"Exactly," I say. "Food's here."

He watches me silently for a second, as if he doesn't really believe I'll eat a kebab, so I take a big bite to show him just how wrong he is.

He rolls his eyes and digs in to his own. It makes me want to laugh, his incredulity. As if I'm some silver-spooned Upper-East-Sider who would never deign to get my hands dirty. Hah. If he only knew.

He takes a sip of his soda. "I haven't emailed you yet, but I got a reservation at Salt for Friday at seven p.m."

Damn, I'd nearly forgotten about that dinner.

Min Chan-woo lives in the apartment building next to me and drops regular hints whenever we bump into each other at the taxi stand in the morning. I know next to nothing about him, apart from the comments he'd made about a career in fashion, his love of yoga, and that he goes to the hairdresser twice a month to maintain his platinum blonde. He doesn't particularly interest me. But after my mother's phone call last week, I needed to take action.

Not to mention I needed to get my assistant out of my mind.

"I've been to Salt before," I tell him. "I know where it is."

His tone becomes a shade too innocent. "So, is it a good place for a date?"

This man. "Mr. Jeon..."

"Just asking for future reference, so I know where to book your personal meetings." He grabs a fry and it dangles between his slim fingers. "To ensure I'm the best assistant I can be."

He's fishing. I resist the urge to smile. "Yes, it's a good place for a date," I say, thinking about the soft lighting and the intimate booths, with enough privacy for deep conversations. Jungkook would look stunning in that environment.

"So you have one planned for Friday?"

"You're impossible."

"Sorry. Too personal?"

I take the last bite of my kebab. He doesn't look the least bit contrite. Usually, this kind of insolence would bother me, but instead I find myself intrigued. A man like this... no way he's unattached. There's no ring on his finger, but there has to be someone-a boyfriend, or two. Men who have his brains and look like him don't stay single long.

"Relationships are hard in this business," I say instead, leaning back. "Working the sort of hours we work."

"Yes. It's why I haven't..." He shakes his head, thinking better of it. "You're right."

"Why you haven't what?"

"I technically have a date, too, on Friday. So we'll both be out romancing."

He looks away and his cheeks flush slightly. The sight is unusual-he's never anything but confidence personified. It must be serious, then.

It bothers me. It shouldn't, but it does. "Who with?"

"Someone my friend is setting me up with."

"You're going on a blind date?" What in all the world? This man is a perfect ten in every category. Why would he need to be set up with some lowlife?

"Yes." He sighs, still looking flushed. "But you have to get out there, you know."

I ball my napkin up and gather our combined trash. "Are you finished?"

"Yes."

"Let's head out. I don't want to be too late."

Jungkook nods. The lovely blush on his milky features is receding fast, quickly replaced by a mask I now recognize as his own professional armor. We head back to the office mostly in silence. The few things we talk about are all work-related.

And damn it all, but now I want to know who he's going out with. I try to picture Jungkook on a date. What would he wear? His hair fluffy in a bun or pony or just down. I bet he'd use that blinding smile of his mercilessly. He'd probably run circles around him with his wit. Poor fellow. I doubt he'd be able to satisfy him, with his ambitions and determination.

Or perhaps he would-he might satisfy him all too well. And to my surprise, that thought displeases me even more.

-

-

It's not working.

There's something missing-the facade isn't quite right. Damn it.

I run my hands over my face. The deadline for the submission is less than two months away, and I'm no closer to finishing the design than I'd been weeks ago.

The Seoul city has commissioned a new opera house. It's one of the biggest building projects in the city's modern history, and in the spirit of artistic competition, they're accepting submissions from architects all over the world. All final plans are to be submitted by early July.

It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

I have no doubt the biggest names in the world will submit their designs, but it's a blind contest. The judges will have no way of knowing if they're looking a world's best architecture design or mine. And that might work squarely in my favor.

But only if I have a perfect design to showcase.

And so far, the facade isn't working.

I can't put my finger on it, staring at the model in front of me. It's simplistic; curving like the rippling of a flag, in a single sheet of bent steel. It's innovative, energy-efficient... beautiful. But not quite there.

I need another pair of eyes.

Damn it. There's no one else I can ask. My old friends from college are working in firms across the country, and they're all mercenary bastards. Great for a beer-but not for this. Not for a project that could make or break an architect and a building firm. I don't trust them.

And the architects at my own firm are vultures. Excellent, all of them-I wouldn't have hired them otherwise-but I can't use them for this. Most of them don't know I still design myself, let alone that I'm planning on submitting my own design as the firm's contribution to the city's opera project.

Jungkook's voice rings out over the intercom. "Ms.Ryu is here to see you."

I toss the sheet over the model and cross my office, taking a seat at my desk. It's unusual for my architecture partner to visit like this-unannounced. Both of us live by our schedules and routines.

"Send her in."

The door opens and Ryu Rita steps in. In her early-thirties, Ryu is a force to be reckoned with. We started as junior architects at the same firm once open a time, but quickly clawed our way up through the ranks until the firm's constraints chafed. She had wanted independence; I'd craved it. We both had significant capital to use to start our own business-her from a divorce, me from my trust fund.

There's no pretension between us. Both of us want to make money, and both of us want to grow the business. She focuses on her designs and I focus on mine, sharing the team between us.

It works well.

"Kim," she says by way of greeting, taking a seat in front of me.

"Ryu."

"The pitch for Priority Media is coming up."

She's telling me something I already know. "Yes."

"We've put Kang-min and Terri on it, but I don't think they can handle it."

I lean back, tapping my fingers thoughtfully against the desk. The two are head of one of our architect divisions and usually a great combination. "That's a problem."

"They're bickering like children," Ryu says, waving a dismissive hand. "We both know this pitch is too big to screw up."

It certainly is. If Kim & Ryu gets Priority Media, we'll be building for years to come. The multi-media platform wants new headquarters in Seoul and has a multi-million budget to back it up.

"Can we put someone else on it?"

"I've checked. We don't have anyone else to spare at the moment. But we could rotate Eunseo in occasionally, and I'll have a chat with Kang and Terri. Tell them to straighten up or they're off it entirely."

That's why I've always liked Ryu. She's straightforward and coldblooded. "And if they don't, let me know. I think I might have a solution," I say.

Because she's wrong about one thing: we do have another architect in-house, even if he wasn't hired as one.

Ryu nods. She looks just as businesslike as usual, but her gaze turns thoughtful. "Are you going to the Founders' ball next Friday?"

"Yes."

"Good. One of us should attend."

I raise an eyebrow. "Am I taking the hit for both of us, then?"

"Yes. You're better at networking, anyway. I just scare them off."

Hah. There might be some truth to that-and that's saying something, given how pointless I find many of the occasions. And if my date on Friday goes well, I might even have someone to bring along, as is expected at events like that.

But somehow, that makes the prospect seem even more boring. Having to battle small talk on all fronts, both with other guests and the one you've brought along with you.

I'll have to find a way around that.

-

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To be continued......

Here Tae is really unsettled with the growing attraction towards JK...🙃
What's gonna happen afterwards??!