The Croupier

I should've fucked her six ways to Sunday.

If she had the shape of my dick imprinted in her core, she wouldn't have shivered between Yoongi's arms like she was a fucking feather. She wouldn't have looked at him and melted as if his sins were atoned for. She wouldn't have let him touch her, feel her, embrace her, fucking breath close to her. Most of all, she wouldn't have left my son, my orphaned kid, alone in a house he didn't know just to listen to some fucking bullshit he clearly didn't mean half of.

So yes, I should've just fucked her. Bareback. No fucking lube, not even spit. Sometimes, respect isn't the right way to go about things. Some things need to be defiled. To be used. To be disrespected. But apparently, Yoongi was already onto that, and I should've broadened my horizons and ripped a page out of his fucking book because he clearly didn't respect this woman, and she still wanted him. I have to hand it to him. He talked less and acted more. He left no room for time to come between him and his plans. Clever. True to his nature, never one to change. But change he did, a hell of a lot and in a very short time. He was fast, and our ancestors have already said it before. The devil works fast. But see, Min Yoongi worked even faster. And the fact that I almost missed the details and the nature of his change almost cost me the plans I had been working towards for years.

Sometimes, you just have to follow your gut. And my gut was nagging me to leave the company right after I finished the meeting with an American label. You'd think the chair I was sitting on in the boardroom was on fire, given how I kept shifting on it and checking my watch every two seconds. I was restless, and apparently, I had every right to be. But I digress. My kid was all I had in mind. The numbers they kept talking about didn't register. The profit margin didn't flatter my interest. God, how wonderful he was. A piece of my heart. A piece of my soul. He had his mother's wit. Every word that came out of his mouth reminded me of our banters. And he said he liked me. My son called me names. My son didn't even remember my name. But my son said he liked me, and if I was faced with only two choices: hear that again or lose my entire fortune, I'd choose those three words any day. I like you.

So of course I was in a hurry to go back and spend more time with him. To get to know him. Listen to his stories. Play with him. Make up for the years we spent away from each other. The years Yoongi had stolen from me by pretending to be my son's father. See, I really didn't want to go there and remember how those ugly words had come out of Inaya's mouth. I wasn't the type to raise my hand against a woman — I'd never do — but I would be a liar if I said my hand didn't flinch when I heard her say that Ethan was Yoongi's son. But of-fucking-course I knew it wasn't her fault. She's been fed lies. So lies were all she could spew. Simple science. But then again. But then motherfucking again. The words were a slap to my face. A dagger to my gut. But they were also another incentive to brutally destroy Yoongi. So I promised he'd see none of my mercy, which might or might not be why I almost kissed Inaya last night.

But it seemed like my gut was bugging me for entirely different reasons. Because when I arrived at my house, I didn't see Ethan playing in the garden I'd bought the house for him to enjoy. No. In my yard was Yoongi and his Genesis. In my yard was Yoongi in a new look, if I might add. The way I pulled the brakes suggested that I had fucked up the hydraulics of my Mercedes beyond repair. But it didn't matter. What mattered was that I stayed behind the shadows. And so I did. From my parking spot, I couldn't hear what they were talking about, but one could tell the subject from their body language. Everything about them screamed a history I would need to work hard to erase. Everything screamed feelings, and I was a person who knew very well how stubborn and hard it was to let go of these.

See, I've always been a man who had his temper under control. Some would even say I was a patient man. But I also considered myself a man who did not allow himself to be ruled by senseless emotions. In fact, I rarely operated those. When Lana died, I locked them away and decided I'd save them just for her. But anger was an emotion, and anger I felt when I saw the way he touched her. Anger was ugly, I realized. So fucking sour. So hard on the muscles, given how they tensed as I watched their exchange behind my windshield. My grip on the steering wheel suggested I was going to fuck it up as much as I'd compromised the brakes. The bones in my knuckles nearly ripped the skin and broke through it. When he put his dirty hand on her jaw and pushed it just enough for his thumb to caress her neck, I loosened my tie. When he rested his forehead on hers and whispered ugly lies, I lit a cigarette with shaky hands. When she placed her hands over his, I felt an ugly grin form on my lips as I crashed the lit cigarette into my palm.

Anger was one of the most palpable feelings, I realized. One that I shouldn't have felt, but I did, and that was a problem. And problems require solutions. So, a solution I found. Inaya wouldn't leave this house unless she was thoroughly brainwashed. Unless Yoongi was nothing but a fading memory in her head. Because Inaya might not be aware yet, but she was no longer his. No. She was mine now.

I took out my phone and called Chul. Yoongi drove a car that cost a few hundred thousand and wore a suit that he couldn't be able to afford unless the sun rose from the west, which was scientifically proven to be impossible. That left me with only one logical assumption. Someone had his back.

Chul picked up after the second ring. "Boss."

"What spell has been cast over Yoongi's financial situation?" My calm voice didn't betray the unnerving feeling brewing inside me. I had no reason to act this way watching Inaya cuddling with that bastard. She was nothing more to me than a joker card I needed to win the game. She could cuddle with a raccoon for all I cared —with all due respect to animals. I shouldn't have compared innocent wildlife to a scum like Yoongi. The point is, Inaya was free to do whatever the fuck she wanted as long as she played into my game. And my game was pretty simple, really. Yoongi took Lana from me. I'd take Inaya from him. Ethan was out of the equation because he never belonged to Yoongi in the first place. Ethan is my blood. My son. And my son's place was right by my side, as nature intended. And I will get my son back. No matter the means.

"Magic doesn't exist in our world, boss. Jeon Jung-wo, on the other hand, does." Chul offered one of the longest sentences he's ever said.

"Elaborate," I ordered as I released the smoke out of my lungs through my nose.

"He's been seeing the old man since he got out of prison. It seems they've made a business arrangement. According to my sources, Min Yoongi is now a partner in Jeon's hotel business and the acting CEO effective yesterday."

It seemed I wasn't the only one on the move. Yoongi was collecting cards and haggling over token chips, right under the croupier's radar. A clever move, I must admit. The yard was finally free of Yoongi and his cunningness, which allowed nature to shine again. The weather was exceptionally good today, and I didn't expect less from Mother Nature. She never cared to match my mood anyway. I wondered if Ethan was awake. We could take advantage of the warm sunshine and play soccer. We lost ten years apart. Every single second we had together counted. And that thought brought up another, much darker in comparison. If Yoongi had taken Ethan with him today, I'd have painted the green grass red with his blood.

"Boss?" Chul called out when my silence interrupted the conversation.

"Dig deeper into this partnership. And don't hold back on minutiae, Chul. You're giving me yesterday's news here, and you know how I feel about it."

"Should I bring this to the attention of the authorities?"

"Why, Chul? It's against morality to deprive someone of their livelihood. Let him. He's rising, and what happens when you rise beyond your limits, Chul?"

"You fall." Chul's smart answer was my cue to end the call.

When I humbled inside the house, I found it almost festive. Ethan was shouting the lyrics to Ne-on's "Closer" in a way that would slap us with a lawsuit from the artist in no time. Inaya was slamming doors, going back and forth between the rooms. I ran cold water over my palm, where a blister had formed from the cigarette I'd put in there. It didn't hurt. Nothing hurts when you realize that you could have come into such a vibrant, warm atmosphere every day if the woman you loved hadn't killed herself because her family set her out of options and if said family hadn't robbed you of your son. That hurts. A little burn doesn't.

I chugged a glass of whiskey I'd poured myself and put the glass in the sink before my son caught me day-drinking like a loser. Inaya's suitcase was in the living room along with her bag and her constant nagging at Ethan to hurry up suggested they were leaving. Yeah, that's not happening. I flopped down on the couch and got rid of my vest. I fought the urge to light a cigarette the same way I fought the frustration that was slowly rising in my chest. Where did she think she was going? If she couldn't handle the consequences of her advances, she should never have tried. Did she think the events would undo themselves if she just upped and left? Yeah, that's not happening either. What happened was that I almost kissed her. I, a man who never kissed another woman after Lana, almost kissed Inaya yesterday, and that was the problem at hand, not the stupid shame she must have felt. Funny thing that I'd asked her to go to sleep because sleep never came to me. The plan was to lure her, not to be lured by her. But a malfunction happened yesterday. A major mechanical malfunction that almost set the place on fire. Because I couldn't stop—didn't want to— even though I knew I had to. I blamed the whole thing on my over-inflated emotions. I had just met my son for the first time in my life. I wasn't in the right headspace, and—and she was there, willing and empathetic and emotional. And lookie here. Joker Card was so good with words. Saying all the things I needed to hear but had never cared to find someone willing to say them.

My plan wasn't to fuck Inaya. The plan was to make Inaya fall in love with me. Not that I had anything against sleeping with her. That would happen eventually. If I wanted her to stick around, I had to play my part to make her feel good. But this was going to be clinical. A business transaction of sorts, even if she wasn't going to be aware that a transaction was being made. There was no part in my plan where I was supposed to — what the fuck, asshole. Get a grip. Want it? What the fuck are you talking about? But it happened. And I couldn't deny it. Yesterday I wanted it her. In my bed. Between my sheets. And that was dangerous because 1) I didn't do want. I only did need. 2) She wasn't a quick lay I'd set myself right with. She was a project, and she was going to stay that way.

Need? That's it. I didn't want her. I must've been confused for a second there. It was a need. I needed to practice some self-care or find myself an outlet. Seokjin was right. I needed to pay more visits to the Viper, our exclusive nightclub. The women there were easy on the eyes and on the heart too. They'd make sure I could keep myself under control and not spiral while I carried out my plan with little Joker Card here.

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs snapped me out of my musings. A smile spread across my lips as I caught sight of Ethan. But then I saw her. Saw the way she was hugging my son and laughing with him. Saw how much she cared for him. And even though it wasn't the first time I'd seen her act like a friend and a mother to him at the same time, it never ceased to amaze me. For this reason alone, I'd take her away from Yoongi. He took my woman and the mother of my child away from me. It's only right I retaliate in the same way.

"Where to, sweet Inaya?"

The color drained from her face. It was like she'd seen a monster, and maybe her gut feeling was right. I was the monster in her story. But she had no reason to fear me. I was a monster who would take care of his human pet. Her brows furrowed, and I ignored that mirage again as if she wasn't looking at me with such disdain. Lana had no right to blame me when she gave up our child and left. What I was doing was protecting our child, something she should've done despite everything. Yes, I was acting like a world-class son of a bitch, using people left and right, but I had more than enough reasons. I couldn't allow my son to grow up without a father while I was still alive, consuming oxygen.

"Hey, bossman." Ethan walked up to the couch and sat down next to me.

"'Sup, Ethan." We greeted each other with a fist bump while Inaya remained glued to her spot. "You up to something fancy?"

"Aunt Inaya—

"We're leaving." Inaya interrupted Ethan before he could blurt out her plans.

I slowly turned my head away from Ethan and looked at her, trying to stay as cool as possible. I couldn't tell Inaya the truth. That would jeopardize my plan. She still had feelings for that motherfucker; there was no guarantee she'd side with me. When I looked at her, the mirage was standing right behind her. I casually rubbed my eyes, pretending the day had taken a toll on me when in reality, I just wanted to unsee her. "Where to now?" I asked with a sigh.

"We don't want to overstay our welcome." She offered. And there was certainty in her words. Confidence. And I was beginning to get really bored with this same old tune. I scratched my eyebrow as I stood up and walked over to her.

"And I told you not to make things awkward, Inaya." The mirage disappeared. Lana never appeared when I was with a woman. She did with Inaya, though. But yesterday, even though I'd been drinking, she didn't show up. And I knew it was in my head, I really did know, but the knowledge didn't relieve me of the sickening guilt. Lana was dead, and a few years after her death, I was touching women and allowing them to touch me. Fuck! Now I was even planning to give her place to the woman standing in front of me. Only in my life, though. I would never let anyone take Lana's place in my heart. She owned it. It was hers. Forever.

"I'm not actually," Inaya offered with a smile. "It's all good, really. I just need to get back to Seoul. I have a few things to take care of."

I shoved my hands in my pockets and gave her a once-over. What kind of things? Did she possibly forgive that bastard? Was he the thing she needed to take care of? Just the idea made my blood boil. At this point, I had to step up my game. I could no longer let fate work for me. I had to start doing its work instead, given how lazy it was. I turned around and smiled at Ethan. "Hey, Ethan. I have a P5 upstairs in my room. Wanna check it out?"

"I told you, man. You're the best."

I waited until Ethan was out of earshot, then went to the cupboard and poured myself another glass of booze. Inaya didn't move an inch. She just watched me intently. And I let her, building up tension. "Want some?" I waved my glass.

"I'm fine." She replied in a clipped tone. Her eyes followed me, challenging, exploring, questioning.

I walked back to her and looked at her from behind the rim of the glass as I sipped the bitter liquid. "It wasn't a rejection." I offered. "But I guess you already know that much. What you don't know, Inaya, is that I wanted much more than what you were willing to offer." I stepped closer to her — so very close that I could see the myriad of reactions swimming in her widened eyes. So close that her scent both intoxicated and soothed me. It was something floral. Something reminiscent of spring and new beginnings. Something that was all hers. Inaya was a truly beautiful woman with doe eyes complemented by a button nose and lips that were in a permanent pout. She didn't deserve this fate, but neither I nor Lana nor my poor child did. But I had promised, and I always keep my promises. This woman would be treated like a queen with me. She will have everything she desires. Everything except my heart, that is.

"What are you talking about, Taehyung?" Her words were breathless. They danced on the line between curiosity and concern. There was a lot of worry in her eyes, too. Fear? Maybe a bit of that, too. But she wasn't afraid of me. She was afraid of herself. Of her feelings. Of the future.

I tucked a strand of her midnight hair behind her ear, relishing the softness of it. My eyes invaded her. I drank her in— fears and worries and all. "I don't want to force you to make a choice, is what I'm saying. I don't want your body if I can't have your heart. I'm an all-or-nothing type of man." My hand slid to her waist, and I pulled her to me. The sound of her gasp was hushed yet very loud. Her hands resting on my chest triggered a shiver that I had no business feeling in every muscle end of my body. This situation was messing with my head. I had to finalize it as quickly as possible and get back to my normal self.

"Taehyung, listen—

I pushed her backward until her back hit the wall and pinned her against the cold surface with my hands. Her chest heaved. Her breaths were audible. And now I knew where her fear was coming from. She was afraid of what would be born here. Inaya was more attracted to me than she realized. I had seen it in her glances, in her curiosity, in the way she spoke, many times before she worked up the courage to make a move. But she was afraid to admit it to herself — she still is. She feared acknowledging that she was picking interest in another man when she was sure her heart belonged to someone else. She feared betrayal. And when he hurt her, she found justification to give in to her attraction. "Would you believe me if I told you that all I want to do right now is kiss you, but I'm holding back."

My eyes were hooned on her lips. Hers were on my eyes. Her heartbeat felt like a hammer against my chest. And I could no longer tell whether I was lying or being honest. My body was betraying me. I had no doubt that she felt it too, given how my hard-on pressed against her navel. "Taehyung, we can't. I led you on, and I'm sorry. I was drunk and visibly out of my mind. But you're my boss, Taeyung, and—and then there's Yoongi. I—..."

Her words died in her throat as tears ran down her cheeks. She said she couldn't. She said she had a man. She said a lot of bullshit because she never tried to break free from my arms. She said things she forced herself to believe because I could clearly see how much she wanted it too. "There's Yoongi. That's exactly what my words were about yesterday." I took a step back, creating distance between us. She lifted her head and looked at me as if the words were final. Little did she know they were just the beginning. "There's Yoongi. The rest are just obstacles you've created to pull the brakes on yourself, Inaya." I pointed my index finger at the distance between us and drew an invisible boundary. "There's only one line between us, and when you're ready to cross it, you'll find me waiting for you."

I took the stairs and left her standing exactly in the same place, right behind the line that separated us.

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