Chapter 32: CRIMSON OBSESSION

 

Under Pressure

By the time he reached Taehyung’s penthouse, the weight in his chest had only grown heavier.

The door was already open when he arrived. A silent invitation—or a warning. Jimin stepped inside.

The air inside Taehyung’s office was heavy, thick with the scent of aged whiskey and the faint, lingering trace of expensive cologne. The only sound was the steady ticking of the antique clock on the wall, marking each passing second with an ominous certainty. Jimin forced himself to remain calm, even as his heartbeat thrummed like a war drum in his chest. He stepped forward with measured precision, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet beneath him.

Taehyung sat behind his desk, his chair turned slightly to the side, his silhouette outlined by the shimmering cityscape beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The golden glow of the skyline reflected in his whiskey glass as he swirled the liquid absentmindedly, his other hand resting lightly on the edge of his desk. His posture was deceptively relaxed, but Jimin knew better.

Taehyung was waiting. Watching. Calculating.

Jimin didn’t falter. He stepped forward and stood just beyond the desk, his hands steady at his sides, his face an unreadable mask.

“Sit.”

The command was clipped, leaving no room for argument. Jimin obeyed, lowering himself into the leather chair across from Taehyung. The smooth texture was cool against his fingertips as he rested his hands on the armrests, resisting the urge to fidget. He knew what this was—an interrogation disguised as a conversation.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Then, without turning, Taehyung murmured, “Did you hesitate?”

Jimin exhaled slowly, his fingers curling slightly at his sides. “No.”

Taehyung finally turned, his sharp eyes locking onto Jimin’s with an intensity that made the air between them crackle. He took a slow step forward, then another, until he was close enough that Jimin could see the glint of something dangerous lurking behind his calm exterior.

“You followed orders,” Taehyung mused, his voice quiet. “But did you enjoy it?”

Jimin didn’t blink. “I did what I had to.”

A ghost of a smirk played at Taehyung’s lips. “A safe answer.”

Jimin held his gaze, unwavering. “A true one.”

Taehyung studied him for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. He turned away, pacing leisurely toward the desk. “You’re a difficult one, Jimin. You’ve always known how to dance on the edge of the blade without letting it cut you.” He reached for the glass of whiskey sitting on the desk and took a slow sip. “But blades are unpredictable. And even the most careful dancers slip.”

Jimin didn’t move. He knew better than to speak too soon.

Taehyung set the glass down with a quiet clink and leaned against the desk, arms crossing over his chest. “You’re loyal,” he continued, voice smooth but laced with something unreadable. “But to whom?”

Jimin’s breath hitched for just a fraction of a second, barely noticeable—but Taehyung caught it. His lips curved slightly, as if he had just confirmed something he already suspected.

Silence stretched between them like a taut rope, threatening to snap at any moment.

Then Taehyung spoke again, softer this time. “You’re not as invisible as you think, Jimin.”

The warning was clear. Taehyung had seen something. He had noticed the cracks forming, the hesitation in Jimin’s actions. And that meant Jimin was running out of time.

Finally, Taehyung pushed off the desk and took a step closer. “Tell me something,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “If it ever came down to it… would you choose me?”

Jimin’s throat tightened. He knew this was another test. One wrong answer, and the consequences would be irreversible.

He forced himself to breathe, to keep his expression calm. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Taehyung studied him, then let out a quiet chuckle. “Clever.”

But the amusement didn’t reach his eyes.

Then, Taehyung finally broke it. “Tell me, Jimin,” he mused, his voice velvety smooth yet edged with steel. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re hiding something from me?”

Jimin’s jaw tensed slightly, but he masked it well, his expression carefully neutral. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Taehyung let out a low chuckle, more a breath of amusement than an actual laugh. He set his whiskey down with a quiet clink against the wooden surface of the desk, his gaze never leaving Jimin’s face.

“See, that’s the thing,” he continued, leaning forward slightly. “I trust my instincts. And right now, they’re telling me you’re lying.”

Jimin held his gaze, refusing to let the flicker of unease show. “I did exactly what you asked. The shipment was secured. No interference.”

Taehyung hummed, as if considering his words. “No interference?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly. “Then why did I hear whispers about a certain someone lurking nearby?”

Jimin’s breath hitched—only for a fraction of a second, barely noticeable. But Taehyung noticed everything.

“Who was it?”

The question came soft and slow, each syllable deliberate, laced with an underlying threat. Taehyung’s eyes gleamed with something dangerous, a predator circling its prey.

Jimin didn’t hesitate. Hesitation would mean death. “No one,” he said firmly. “If there was someone, they didn’t come close enough to disrupt anything.”

Taehyung leaned back in his chair, watching Jimin with the careful scrutiny of a man weighing every detail. His fingers tapped idly against the desk in slow, rhythmic beats, a sound that sent shivers crawling down Jimin’s spine. Then, in a swift, almost lazy movement, Taehyung stood, rounding the desk with unhurried steps until he was looming over Jimin.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Jimin?”

The question was a whisper, almost gentle, yet it carried the weight of a hundred unspoken threats. Jimin fought to keep his breathing steady as Taehyung reached down, fingers brushing against his chin before gripping it firmly, tilting his face up until their eyes met.

“Because if I find out otherwise…” Taehyung’s grip tightened slightly, his thumb pressing against Jimin’s jaw in a way that was neither entirely painful nor entirely soft. “You won’t like the consequences.”

Jimin forced himself not to react, not to show any sign of weakness. “Understood.”

Jimin knew, in that moment, that no matter what he said, Taehyung would never fully trust him again. The seed of doubt had been planted, and it would only grow from here.

And that meant, sooner or later, Jimin would have to make a choice.

One that might cost him everything.

Taehyung studied him for a moment longer before releasing him. He stepped back, his expression unreadable. “You can go.”

Jimin didn’t need to be told twice. He stood smoothly, turning on his heel and heading for the door. But even as he walked away, he could feel the weight of Taehyung’s gaze burning into his back, dissecting every movement, every breath.

As soon as the heavy door clicked shut behind him, Jimin allowed himself to exhale slowly, the tension coiled in his muscles finally easing just a fraction. He had managed to keep his cover—for now.

But Taehyung wasn’t done testing him.

And Jimin knew it was only a matter of time before the walls closed in.

 

 

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