Chapter 6

Jaeha released an involuntary, unsteady sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging as he assumed he could safely retreat behind the casual boundary the man had just offered him.

That was precisely when he should have reinforced his defenses.

Jaeha had never considered himself a lightweight. Every measurable quality he possessed had ranked well above average throughout his life: his height, his lineage, his physical capabilities, and his relentless discipline. Even his high tolerance for alcohol was another asset in his carefully maintained corporate portfolio. Yet when he drank against Jang Taegeon, every calculation he made failed him.

Perhaps his initial thirst had been the fatal error. He had swallowed the potent brandy far too quickly, giving himself no chance to gauge its true effect. By the time every luxury bottle in the suite’s minibar had run dry, the two Alphas had summoned the hotelier they had previously dismissed and demanded an unrestricted supply of hard liquor, along with small platters of seasonal fruit and marinated olives. When the attendant politely asked whether they required any further service, both men cut him off with the same flat, simultaneous dismissal.

Their drinking session dragged deep into the bleak hours before dawn, conducted in an absolute, suffocating silence. From that point onward, Jaeha’s memories fractured into a hazy and unreadable blur. In retrospect, it would have been merciful if his mind had simply shut down and left him with nothing at all.

“Ah… hnnng!”

“You were the one begging for this, Executive Director, but you’ve got absolutely no fucking patience. Look at the goddamn mess you’re making.”

The memories returned only as jagged fragments of sound, pressure, and friction. Still, judging from the cruel, possessive cadence of Jang Taegeon’s voice echoing through his subconscious, the encounter had undeniably been consensual.

Or rather, it had to have been.

Taegeon held no emotional attachment to him. Jaeha was the only one afflicted by a dark and illicit desire. If a single night could leave such heavy, lethargic, and bruising evidence across the body of a healthy Alpha, then whatever had happened between them must have been devastatingly debauched.

Jaeha buried his face in his hands and smothered a raw groan of pure mortification.

The steady drumming of the June rain beyond the windows, coupled with the rhythmic rush of water from the master bathroom, finally gave his rational mind something solid to grasp. He scrambled out of the tangled sheets and reached desperately for the tailored clothes scattered across the hardwood floor.

“Augh!”

He might have salvaged what remained of his dignity if a blinding, crushing wave of pain had not torn through his pelvis the instant he bent over. His knees buckled, and his inner thighs trembled so violently that he nearly collapsed against the edge of the bedframe.

“Dammit…”

The harsh curse slipped through his teeth before he could stop it, a word he rarely permitted himself to use. Between his legs, he felt slick, wet, and utterly ruined. A horrifying theory took shape in his mind. He must have confused reality with one of his explicit nightmares and aggressively gone after Taegeon first.

The thought was so appalling that his vision flashed white.

This was his only chance to escape. Even with his lower back throbbing and every strained muscle screaming in protest, he dragged on his trousers and rushed out of the master bedroom without pausing to fasten his shirt. He sprinted toward the suite’s private entrance, forcing several buttons through their loops with shaking fingers as he ran.

He frantically searched the pockets of the suit jacket hanging haphazardly over his arm. His wallet and phone were still there.

That was enough.

As long as he held on to those two lifelines, he could survive the fallout.

Before the hiss of the shower could stop, Lee Jaeha slipped through the heavy door. He avoided the hotel staff and bolted straight toward the grand lobby, then threw himself into the first taxi idling near the entrance.

Terrified of the sharp, analytical gazes awaiting him at the family estate, Jaeha rattled off the address of a heavily secured luxury apartment he kept near the Yooshin Group headquarters. The driver cast him a brief, questioning glance through the rearview mirror, but mercifully, the vehicle pulled away into the rain-soaked morning without incident.

By the time the taxi crossed the steel arches of the Han River bridge, Jaeha’s consciousness had begun to collapse beneath the weight of his exhaustion. He stirred only when the driver called out to tell him they had arrived.

Clutching a random fistful of cash from his wallet, he paid the fare and made a blind dash toward the elevator bay.

Simply remaining upright was an ordeal. He had to fight the urge to lean his full weight against the mirrored elevator wall, paralyzed by the poisonous dread that a neighbor or member of the building staff might see him in his disheveled, half-buttoned state.

During the agonizing ascent, he made a fierce and silent resolution to purchase a luxury villa immediately, preferably one in which every residence was legally zoned for its own private, isolated elevator.

His memories of entering the apartment remained fragmented. He could not recall whether he had reached the dressing room or simply shed his ruined designer suit across the foyer like a discarded skin.

His concentration failed him again and again within those few minutes.

He barely endured the shower. The stinging pain across his chest and the inexplicable muscular strain binding his inner thighs were far too vivid, far too physical, for his mind to process.

Then there was the sharp, burning sensation radiating from behind him. Too many biological realities demanded acknowledgment, and he refused to entertain a single one of them.

After crawling out of the shower stall, he collapsed into bed and sank into a dead, vegetative sleep, severing every conscious connection to reality.

Fortunately, it was the weekend. The massive corporate investment agreement had been finalized only days earlier, averting the immediate operational crisis at Yooshin Group.

That meant none of the senior executives were actively monitoring his whereabouts.

Or rather, it was not that his presence was unnecessary. His phone had been vibrating incessantly against the sofa cushions.

Without even looking at the screen to identify the caller, Jaeha powered it off completely. He tossed the device into a dark corner of the living room, returned to the bedroom, and sank into yet another layer of unconsciousness.

He did not wake until twenty-two hours later, on Sunday morning.

“Damn it…”

Jaeha pushed himself upright as the rare, venomous curse escaped his lips. His rigorous corporate conditioning reminded him that swearing in the middle of a crisis accomplished absolutely nothing, yet he could not contain the emotional breach.

Regret and profound self-loathing prowled beside his bed, wagging their tails like newly acquired companions he would never be able to escape.

***