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Jeon Jungkook will be the death of you.
“Your father wants to see you, and your secretary has no clue of your whereabouts,” you announce as you round the corner.
Your lips immediately purse in distaste when the open terrace area actually enters your line of sight.
He's in the fucking pool. At eleven am on a workday. Again .
A gaggle of girls in skimpy bikinis has followed him in there, again, too. Where do these harpies even come from? This building is private property—it's the company office , for fuck's sake—and it has a whole unit of security personnel guarding its gates. Does Jeon fucking hide them in his car, or something? You won't put it past the guy.
And how low of a self esteem do these women even have, to be throwing themselves at someone like Jeon Jungkook on a daily basis?
" Sir ?" you try again.
All you receive in response are giggles . Giggles from the CEO himself, followed by high pitched laughter from his companions.
You exhale, beyond exasperated.
What on earth was Chairman Jeon thinking when he made this decision? His son is a literal manchild — absolutely, abhorrently unfit for the CEO position he has been bestowed with. And you, the Vice President, have been doubling as the unlucky, unwilling, begrudging babysitter for the guy. You couldn't say no when Chairman Jeon pleaded with you to let his son "tail you for a few weeks" because your family has had close relations with the Jeons since before you were born.
That is not to say you and Jungkook have grown up as best friends, the way both pairs of your parents seem to be disillusioned into believing. Far from it. You despise the guy's guts , and you're more than certain your feelings are not unrequited.
"Mister Jeon?" you call out, louder than before, only to be ignored again.
The nerve of this little bitch —
But then suddenly Jungkook moves away from the wall of the pool, turning towards you as he untangles from the girls wrapped all over him like vines. His pectoral muscles ripple as water splashes against his dusky nipples, and you—
You hate him so much.
And you also hate God for gifting him with such a delectable body when he literally has a peanut for a brain.
His eyes meet yours as he's slicking his wet hair back from his forehead with those veiny ass hands of his that shouldn't be as sexy as they are. Your eyes involuntarily follow his tattooed sleeve despite your gritted teeth.
You sigh.
Life is so unfair.
"Vice Prez!" he calls out, eyebrows arched and lips twitching. "When did you get here?"
You open your mouth to speak, but—
" Ooh , were you enjoying the show from afar?" is what he cuts you off with and his twitching lips curl up into a full-blown, cocky smirk. "Could've come closer. I would’ve let you have a first seat."
He gestures, not so subtly, to his thighs and you clench your fists.
This brat .
" No ," you grit out, eyebrows shifting in annoyance when one of his leggy blondes places her talon-like hands, what with all her black acrylic nails, on his bare shoulder. His inked bare shoulder. "I had been calling out to you for a while, but you were…" Your nostrils flare when all four of his admirers start to paw at him again. " Preoccupied ," you finish in a tight voice.
Jungkook's eyes are still on you, although his look of teasing has slowly morphed into a look of intrigue. "Oh? Was it something important? I didn't miss a meeting, did I?"
So maybe – just maybe he's a little bit concerned about his responsibilities. Very little, given how he's still in the damn pool and shows no signs of stopping all these hussies from mauling his body.
But. Still .
You reckon it's an improvement from him perpetually forgetting whether he works higher up or below you in the ranks as the CEO and finding out ways to slip in really lewd innuendos to ask you to clarify the same to him, every other hour of the day.
You huff out a small breath. "You almost did. Your father has been trying to reach you."
Jungkook slips in the pool, arms flailing in the water as he drops below the surface.
Now, despite your undeterred hatred for him, the sight has your heart lurching from your chest to your mouth.
"Holy shit, Jeon ?" you yelp, but he still flounders and flails, and you realize he can't swim. You smack a palm against your face. "Jungkook, are you fucking serious?"
You cannot fucking believe this guy.
You run towards him, stumbling on your feet in your hurry, but the girls in the pool have swam away from his struggling figure, looking about ready to flee, which— typical . And serves Jeon right, too. But – you really don't want the Chairman's son to drown to his death in front of you.
That's the only reason why you tug your sleeves up and take your heels off.
Yep, the only one, singular reason why you take off your watch and put it next to your phone on the side of the pool.
Breathing in deeply, you slip into the water.
The sensation of your wet pencil skirt sticking to your thighs is horribly unpleasant, but you try to ignore everything else as you swim forward with a hand extended to reach for Jungkook. His groupies have started to scamper out of the water, and you briefly wonder if these girls have actually left someone to die in the past, given how shit scared they look.
"Hey, Jeon!" you call out as your palm meets his shoulder, throat moving on a dry swallow when your fingers dig into the solid muscles beneath the swirling, black ink there. "Jeon?"
You reach with your other hand to grip the back of his neck and, getting nearly punched in the stomach by his flapping hands and nearly dislodging your knee by his kicking legs, you push at his shoulder and tug at his head.
"Wha—" Jungkook sputters when you manage to pull his face out of the water. You try to keep him upright, cradling his face as you frown at him while he draws in huge, gasping gulps of air. "I— what —did I die ?" he pants, legs struggling to catch a footing on the slippery floor and nearly kicking you in the shins. "Am I—"
"You're fucking alive, Jeon!" You scowl at him, heartbeat still running a marathon because you cannot imagine what would’ve happened if you weren’t here. “Stop talking and breathe .”
He nods, blinking rapidly with his gaze unfocussed. His lips part as he breathes heavily and he keeps shutting his eyes with every heave.
You move your hand from his neck to his bicep and grip on firmly to support him as he finally manages to stand up on the pool's floor, again. His tattooed arm muscles ripple under your palms, and you have to tear your gaze away from how delicious his broad body looks with water droplets racing down his smooth, caramel skin.
You can see his toned, eight pack of abdominal muscles beneath the surface of the water, and you have to blink really hard to stop yourself from straying further below.
"Jungkook?" you softly say, dropping formalities along with your annoyance for a minute as you look at his face, and his eyes immediately lock onto yours, looking considerably more attentive than moments ago. "Are you okay?"
"I…" he mumbles, lips red and wholly moist, looking like a watermelon Jolly Rancher—which you absolutely do not want to taste, because you hate watermelons. "Dad… Dad was trying to reach me?"
So, he's okay. You exhale in relief.
No deaths on your watch, hah!
"Yeah." You nod, tentatively dropping one hand from his arm. "And before you ask, he didn’t say why.”
Jungkook clicks his tongue with a pained whine. “He’s gonna scold me, isn’t he?”
You snort under your breath, slowly retracting your other hand from his shoulder. “Did you do something to warrant a scolding?”
Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you, and paired with his damp, unruly hair, his sharp cut features and his chiseled jaw, he looks dead sexy doing it.
You hate the unfairness of it all.
“Did you forget what you just walked in on?” he asks with a chuckle, and you roll your eyes.
You waddle away from him in the water. “I’m bleaching my eyes after this.”
Jungkook releases a raucous laugh before he suddenly gasps, and you twist in your place, blindly leaning forward to catch him by the arm. He freezes, mid-fall, and looks at you with his wide eyes doe-like and mouth dropped open in shock.
“Oh my fucking God, Jeon, get the hell out of the water !” you shriek at him, not letting go of his forearm until he has safely lifted himself out of the pool and is perched upon its side.
But now you’re standing between his legs and his black swim shorts do little to hide all the wide, thick, bulging muscles of his thighs. You draw in a huge breath and step away.
When you look up — absolutely not lingering at his abs and pecs on your way — his eyes are already on you. They have a look in them that you recognize very well. But you have never seen, and do not intend to ever see , on his face. Least of all directed at you .
His lips are apart and his pupils look dilated as he gazes at…somewhere lower than your face, actually.
You jolt in surprise, self-consciously tugging at your shirt collar as you look down at yourself.
You gasp. Your favorite light grey shirt is now a bothersome transparent grey shirt, and your black bra is as visible as it would be if you wore nothing over it. Crossing your arms before yourself in outrage, you glare at Jungkook who is—
He—
He is licking his lips.
He’s shirtless with a body built like a fucking Greek God, and thigh muscles that show without flexing, and a whole sleeve of tattoos that looks so unfairly hot on him, and he is drenched from head to toe, and he—
And he still has the audacity to lick his lips?
You really want to jump him. Dig your nails into his broad back, grind yourself on his huge thighs, rub your boobs against his hard chest, ask him to choke you with that fucking tatted arm of his, and—
Well, fuck him into the next century, maybe.
But you also really want to slap him into the next century because he's a brainless, womanizing, irresponsible prick that makes your job a living hell.
You hate your life so fucking much.
“I’m gonna leave,” you declare, rushing away from him.
He doesn’t say a word when you pull yourself out of the water at the other end of the pool.
You stand up, shrunken into yourself like a wet mouse, water dripping everywhere as you hastily grab your watch and phone off the floor and pick your heels up. God knows you won’t be able to walk in them, right now.
Your knees feel kind of weak, and it’s not because of the cold.
You turn to look at him one last time.
"If you love dipping into pools so bad, maybe you should learn how to swim, sir ," you say to him, curling your lips in a sneer at the end of your sentence, and his daze breaks.
He blinks, and then he scoffs. "And miss the chance to play knight in distress?" His cheek ticks up in a cocky smirk and he leans back on his forearms.
Holy fucking hotness .
You roll your eyes. "I'm not your damsel in shining armor."
Jungkook licks his lips again, and even from this far, you can tell that they still look like a watermelon Jolly Rancher. You can also tell his eyes are trained at your very exposed cleavage. But you can’t do anything to stop him from staring because you don’t have anything to cover yourself with, and you absolutely do not want to use your hands and look like a fucking pussy.
"No, you're not.” Jungkook’s voice grows deeper, eyes grow darker. “You're my damsel in a sexy as fuck pencil skirt and a barely there shirt."
You grit your teeth to hold yourself back from throwing yourself at him. Or throwing a punch at his face. You’re not sure, you’re really confused. "I'm the Vice President of your company, Mister Jeon—"
"Dad's company," he interrupts with a cheeky grin and a shrug. His muscles move almost hypnotically, drawing your eyes back to them, every single time. "But you sure work below me. Or should I say," his smirk turns obscene, " under me."
You're very close to foaming at the mouth with all of the pent up anger and sexual frustration you have over this guy. You try to take a calming breath. "Sir—"
"And I promise to work wonders above you if you keep calling me that."
Your jaw goes slack. Great. Now what the hell are you supposed to do with your suddenly drenched panties? "Jeon, please—"
" Ah , pleading already?" He grins at you, now lounging on an elbow. "I like it."
You hate him so fucking much!
You shut your eyes and draw in a very deep, very long breath.
"Just to remind you," you say, schooling your features to look innocent as you widen your eyes, "our dad's still waiting for you."
"Shit!" Jungkook's eyes widen and he collapses on the floor, before rushing to get up and look for his towel.
You roll your eyes and walk out of there, your heart pounding and certain other regions throbbing. You would have to make a detour to your own office to get a change of clothes before you can show your face at the Chairman's office, again.
Maybe you should take five and visit the bathrooms for a bit of private time? Can you afford that, will you be missed? You don’t believe so.
Just as the elevator doors are closing, a familiar veiny hand is stuck in between the gates.
Your back is flat against the elevator wall as he walks into the little space.
You look at him, wide-eyed.
He has thrown his black suit jacket over his half naked self, and somehow that wide strip of muscled body peeking from between the lapels makes him look just as sexy as he does without a shirt. His hair hang over his forehead, wet strands framing face sinfully.
His lips are twisted in a cocky smile and eyes are hooded.
"I believe you were supposed to escort me, ma'am ," he murmurs, crowding you into a corner, and you freeze in place. “Gonna take me there, now?”
His eyelids lower.
You gulp.
“Or should I take you ?”
Oh no —
Jeon Jungkook will be the death of you.