Minho had hated your damn guts since the moment you met. You had bumped into him and spilled your glass of red wine all over his expensive, all-white outfit. He still couldn't get over it. That outfit had cost him 30,000 dollars. 30 fucking thousand dollars. You were travelling to New York to do a a few fashion shows and shoots there. Since your agency was partnered up with his, your boss assigned partners for the trip. The partners shared a two room hotel suite and sat together on the first class section of the plane. What a surprise, you got Minho. And he wasn't happy about it.

"Try to keep your stench to your side, whore."

Minho grumbled, shifting in the plush first class seat as he stared at the TV in the seat.