He fiddles with his key, Y/n standing right next to him. "If it's where you hide all your bodies. I'll be majorly turned off."

He chuckles, his nervousness starting to fade away. "It's not. Honestly, I'm not sure how you're going to react to it."

"Well, you won't know until you show me."

Jimin takes a moment, then, inserts the key inside the lock. There's a reason why he stays at his penthouse so much. It's because his room is here. A room he made himself. He turned one of the studies into a soundproofed room meant for other activities. Activities he's hoping to have with her.

He opens the door, clearing his throat before motioning for her to go first. She gives him a concerned glance before strolling in. To his surprise, she doesn't even gasp, she just stares at it, taking it all in. He enters behind her, closing the door. 

"So, this is what you're into?" she asks, peeking at him from over her shoulder.

"You're not shocked?" he asks, leaning against the door. 

"Did you want me to be?" she asks back with a playful smirk, letting the red led lighting of the place illuminate her skin. So, he has a sex room. It's not the average one: it's made for BDSM. "I'm not surprised, if I'm being honest, but I'm a little surprised you have a whole ass stripper pole in here."

"Care to try it out?"

"Ha," she blankly replies, observing all the different styles of handcuffs he has strung up around the room. She hums to herself, observing them before going to the floggers, touching each one. "I get to do this to you first, right?"

God, the way she can keep up with him, and how she seems interested in his world: it's driving him insane. Jimin licks his lower lip. "Only if I can do it to you right after." She eyes all the ropes on the wall, tracing over them as if drawing it into her mind.

There's a full minute of silence as she scans over everything, peeping at the bed that matches the red lighting. "Yeah, I suppose so. Well, I guess it's my turn to be honest, isn't it? I'll rip it off like a band aid: I work for the mafia," she says, Jimin's eyes expanding. 

"Excuse me?"

"You do illegal shit, too, don't you? Unless you were lying to scare me. I'm guessing you're in some mafia, based on the way you talked, not to mention no low-level drug dealer can get all these riches. You have to be part of something big. That's without mentioning your... interesting personality."

He balls his hands into fists, taking a step toward her. "You work for the mafia?" 

"Yes, that is what I said, keep up. I'm an assassin, similar to you I'm sure." 

He narrows his eyes. No, she can't be the one sent after him. She can't be; she would've killed him by now. Not to mention if she was working undercover, she wouldn't tell him any of this.

Jimin forces himself to relax. "Yeah. I do the same, except I'm more of a soloist. I pick up jobs for Mr. Kim, but other than that I stay in my lane." 

She gazes at him. "You work for Mr. Kim? The big boss?"

"Is that a problem?" 

She blinks a few times, then shakes her head. "Not at all. You just didn't look like the type to work for the big ones. You said it yourself: you're a soloist. When you work with someone like Mr. Kim, all your 'freedom' gets taken away."

He snorts. "Tell me about it. Weekly meetings and all." Jimin eyes her. "Who do you work for?" 

"Mr. Jeon," she replies, "one of the biggest, not to brag. Although I think you have more bragging rights than I do." She takes a moment, then meets his eyes. There's a full two minutes of quiet as the two stare. Then, he feels the need to talk to her.

"Dancing," he murmurs. 

She comes closer, stepping away from the rows of various sex toys. "I'm sorry?" 

"Dancing," he repeats, louder. "There's more to life than just our jobs. Let's talk about other things, like dancing. I love to dance." 

She softly smiles, stopping once she's a few feet away. "Okay, I like music. I listen to it and..."

He raises a brow. "And what?" 

"Uh, writing. I like to write it too."

Jimin pretends his heart didn't just skip a bit. "Well, that's perfect. You write a song, I'll dance to it. Deal?" 

She raises her hand, showing him her pinky. He hooks his onto hers, his smile expanding. "Deal," she whispers, giving his pinky a squeeze.

Jimin snickers. "As cute as holding your pink is, now it's time to strip." 

She takes a step back. "Can't go four seconds without being horny? Really?" 

He's about to reply when she undoes the zipper on her black dress, turning and walking toward the pole in the corner of the room.

He watches in amazement while she lets the dress drop to her ankles, her not wearing anything underneath as she kicks it away. "Holy shit," he mumbles. 

She places her hand on the pole, giving him a small smirk. "Get on the bed. I have a dance for you."

Without another word, he obeys.