He shouldn't care what she was getting up to, or who she was hurting, but he wanted to.Keeping to the shadows, he watched as she attacked a punching bag. She'd removed her dress and was now in a long pair of tight shorts and a sports bra.

He needed to get himself under control.

As he watched her, he saw her power. There was too much space between them, and he wanted to get closer. She yelled, attacking the bag again, screaming her agony. He reached out to touch her, and she spun around, her eyes blazing with fury, landing a powerful kick to his stomach and sending him stumbling back.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Her voice was sharp, her eyes narrowed in anger, lips curled in a sneer.

"I came to admire your technique," he said, getting to his feet with a smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement and challenge.

She stood, hands clenched into fists, panting. Perspiration dotted her brow and her eyes were red, but there was no sign of tears. Y/n was the epitome of control. "You don't belong here. This is my house." Her chin lifted defiantly, her gaze hard and unyielding.

"You see, your father believed you needed someone like me to help you out." His expression softened slightly, but his eyes remained intense and unrelenting.

"I don't need you. I don't need any man." Her voice was laced with disdain, her lips curling into a sneer, her eyes flashing with defiance.

He removed his jacket, rolling up his sleeves, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving her face.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, her eyes widening in surprise and suspicion, her posture tensing.

"I'm getting ready. It's fine hitting a punching bag, but how about someone who will fight back?" His eyes sparkled with challenge, his mouth twisting into a grin, his expression taunting. "I'm not fighting you." She turned her back on him and resumed hitting the bag, her posture stiff and unyielding, her movements aggressive.

He rolled his eyes, and this time, she didn't fight him as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up. She struggled, her body twisting and writhing, but he pressed her to the ground, grabbed her hands, and locked them above her head.

"But I want to fight you." His voice was low and provocative, his eyes locked onto hers, his breath warm against her skin.

"Get off me." Her voice was a growl, her eyes flashing with anger and frustration, her teeth bared.

He tutted, his expression a mix of amusement and challenge. "Your father told me he taught you better than that."

"You don't know the first thing about my father. Get off me." Her voice was cold, her eyes narrowing into slits, her jaw clenched.

"No." He kept her trapped with one hand. With the other, he stroked a finger down her cheek, his touch light and teasing, his eyes dark with intent. "I'm a little disappointed."With a fierce snarl, she somehow managed to wriggle her legs out, and she slammed her foot against his thigh. He grunted in pain, loosening his grip enough for her to get free. This time, she wrapped her fingers around his neck, her nails digging into his skin, pushing him to the mat, straddling his waist. Her eyes were fierce, a triumphant glint in them, her lips twisted in a victorious snarl.

He had no problem with her body pressing down on his. Grabbing her hips, he held her still, his eyes darkening with desire, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Stop it." Her voice was strained, a mix of anger and something else, her eyes wide and intense."No. Be careful with the men you play with, Y/n." He pushed against her so she'd know exactly what she was doing to him, his lips curling into a knowing smile, his eyes locked onto hers with a predatory gleam.

She slapped him hard across the face, the sound echoing in the gym. He felt the sting but didn't flinch, his smirk widening. She pulled away, her eyes blazing with fury, her chest heaving."Why are you here?" she demanded, her voice cold and sharp, her eyes wary and guarded."Tomorrow morning, meet me at a café." He gave her the name of a private place, his voice calm and assured, his eyes intense and unyielding.

"And why would I come to see you?" Her voice was defiant, her brows furrowing in suspicion, her posture tense.

"So we can talk about our wedding and dealing with everything that has been handed to you today." His eyes held hers, his expression serious, his voice firm.

"I'm not marrying you." She put her hands on her hips and stared at him, almost defiantly, her eyes flashing with determination.

"You think they're going to let you run things? Even if you were to take a place at the meetings, you're a woman. I imagine they'd plot your death within a matter of days." His voice was matter-of-fact, his eyes steady and unflinching, his expression unreadable.

"I can do this," she said, her voice firm, her eyes blazing with determination. "It's what I've been trained to do."

"I know everything, Y/n, you can trust me." His voice was gentle, but his eyes were intense, almost pleading, his expression sincere.

"I trust no man." Her voice was cold, her eyes narrowing, her lips pressed into a thin line."Yet, you trust your bastard outcast bodyguard upstairs and he let me come down here. I'm not the enemy. Don't treat me like one or you're going to get yourself killed. A lot of people will want you dead." His voice was low and urgent, his eyes dark with concern, his expression earnest.

"You really expect me to believe you're not like the other men? You don't want me out of the way?" Her voice was skeptical, her eyes narrowing in suspicion, her brows drawing together.

Taehyung smiled, a slow, almost predatory grin spreading across his face. "In case you didn't notice, I'm not like other men. Meet me, Y/n. You won't regret it."

____________

The café was a quaint shop, one that was clearly not owned by any of the Family. She didn't know how that was possible without her help.

"We should leave," Y/n said, her voice tight with anxiety, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar surroundings, her posture tense and wary.

"Your father told me that Taehyung would come. He'd help. He told me to trust him," Hoseok said, his voice calm but his eyes filled with worry, his expression serious.

"Then why wasn't I told!" She couldn't help the spike of hurt that shot through her entire body. Her eyes filled with pain and confusion, her brows furrowing. "If my father really didn't think I could handle this, why did he make my last ten years with him nothing but pain and misery?"

"I cannot answer those questions for you, honey. They're for your father and you to deal with. Give Taehyung some ... time." Hoseok's voice was gentle, his eyes filled with sympathy, his expression soft.

She looked toward her only friend, her eyes softening slightly, her shoulders relaxing. "Fine.""Don't kill him." Hoseok's voice was half-joking, half-serious, his eyes twinkling with concern, a small smile playing on his lips.

"I will if he thinks he can walk all over me." Climbing out of the car, she tucked her hair behind her ear and walked across the street. Still in mourning, she wore a simple dress with flared-out sleeves. She hated the color black and much preferred to have something floral, but she had to show respect.

Entering the café, she couldn't help but smile. It was so ... normal. To her, it meant she'd entered a foreign land.

Attending her father's business and all the shops and establishments aligned with the Family, she was used to an element of fear and respect facing her. Here, there was nothing. It reminded her of her own little establishment she'd set up, with her father's blessing, but also in secret.