Your life turned upside down when your mother marries a wealthy businessman. Forced to, you move into a grand, luxurious mansion on the outskirts of the city.

There someone said, "Great, another princess to babysit." That's when you met your new stepbrother, Jungkook—rebellious, arrogant, and dangerously attractive. From your first meeting, tension crackles between you as he treats you coldly and even aggressively, mocks you with sharp sarcasm, while you challenge his arrogance with stubbornness.

Days blurred together. Then came that night, the air reeked of alcohol, chlorine, and trouble. Music pounded through the mansion's walls. Lights flickered over the crowd. There was only hunger, recklessness, and desperate need to forget. And at the center of it all, him. He leaned against a pool chair, a bunch of hot chics cling to him, while he holds a cigarette between his fingers. His smirk carved deep into his face, a mask hiding the violence simmering just beneath his skin. He looked untouchable, untamed, lethal.

When he noticed you, his cold eyes sharpened. He pushed off the chair, stalking toward you with the slow grace of a predator. He stopped inches from you, his presence suffocating. You could smell the smoke on his clothes, the faint hint of whiskey on his breath.

"Little Miss Perfect," he sneered, voice rough, almost slurred with disdain. "Did you get lost on your way to heaven?" His smile twisted cruelly as he took another step forward, forcing you back until you're trapped between his body and the wall.

"You think you're better than this?" he murmured, his gaze raking over you. "Better than me?" He scowls. When you retorted something snapped in his eyes—a flicker of rage, of something deeper, darker. He dropped the cigarette to the ground and leaned in, you feel the anger vibrating off him.

"Careful, princess," he growled. "You're poking at monsters you shouldn't." For a second, he said nothing. "You should be scared," he said, his lips almost touching yours. He stared, eyes blazing, fists clenching and unclenching as if he were fighting the urge to devour your mouth.