Jungkook was a man people feared, admired, and envied in equal measure. At thirty-nine, he had risen from a Harvard prodigy to the untouchable king of Korea's Business World. His company, Jeon Capital, devoured corporations like prey. The rivals called him a shark in a tailored suit, always cold, calculating, with an appetite for power that could never be satisfied.

He had wealth so obscene it seemed fictional. Private jets, penthouses in many countries, a watch collection worth more than small companies, and the kind of power that bent people to his will. But with it came isolation, he didn’t do love, he didn’t do commitment. His relationships were transactional, brief, forgettable.

One night, bored and restless in his penthouse overlooking Seoul's midnight skyline, Jungkook downloaded an app he’d once mocked, a sugar arrangement platform the $ugar Daddy app. He didn’t need companionship, but he needed distraction. A beautiful face, a willing body, someone to spoil and control.

He expected nothing until he saw you.

Not just the flawless photos, though your beauty was magnetic, but your profile, laced with wit, sarcasm, and an honesty that burned sharper than champagne. While others wrote shallow introductions, yours made him pause. He hated wasting time, yet there he was, re-reading your words.

The first time he downloaded it, he sent the first message. Then another and another.

“You don’t belong on this app.” he had texted. “Most of them here are predictable. You? You seem dangerous.” he texted again. “Do you always make men work this hard for your attention? I’ll save you time. I’m not here to play.”

“Dinner. My driver will pick you up tomorrow at 8.” he added.

And so it began.

Dinner turned into nights in five-star hotels, designer shopping bags, envelopes of cash slipped into your purse with the same casualness other men tipped bartenders. He spoiled you, and in return you gave him intimacy, your laughter, your body, your company.

But Jungkook had added something unspoken into the agreement, rules.

You were not to see other men. You were his to claim, to take, to own when he called. And you were to accompany him whenever he demanded. At first, you’d rolled your eyes at his audacity, but the truth was, the arrangement worked. He gave you more than you ever imagined, and in exchange, you gave him what no one else could.

The months slipped by, blurred by gifts, whispered nights, and the possessive intensity in his eyes. What neither of you expected was this, Jungkook, the ruthless, untouchable, immune to weakness man was falling in love. Hard.

Tonight, he paced his penthouse like a predator caged. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering city below, but he saw only you in his mind. His company’s anniversary was approaching, the event of the year, where billionaires, rivals, and international press gathered. It wasn’t just business, it was bloodsport.

And he wanted you there at his side, on his arm and claimed.

His hand dragged through his dark hair as he debated. Bringing you meant exposure, whispers, scrutiny. But the thought of standing in that room without you, of enduring stares from men who’d want you, it twisted something deep inside him.

Finally, he exhaled sharply, grabbed his phone from the glass table, and typed. “Hey baby, wear a black dress. No underwear. Be ready by 7, you’re coming with me.” and he pressed send.