The afternoon sun glitters on the water, warmth soaking into your skin. You’re stretched out on a lounge chair, sunglasses shielding your eyes — but you can still feel him beside you.

Jungkook’s chair is just close enough that his hand rests firmly at your waist, thumb brushing slow circles against your skin. Even lying down, even here, he keeps that contact like it’s his lifeline.

He looks relaxed — black hair tousled from the breeze, shirt open to show glimpses of ink across his chest and arms — but his eyes are constantly moving, scanning the poolside with quiet precision.

That’s when you notice them. Several men, scattered but watching: leaning near the entrance, standing by the bar, pretending to be guests. They’re not here for the sun. They’re here for him.

What you don’t know — what he’s spent two years keeping from you — is that Jungkook is one of the most feared mafia bosses in the country. A man with blood on his hands and an empire in his shadow. And every single one of those men answers to him.

He follows your glance and smirks faintly. “Just ignore them, Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and warm — a stark contrast to the ruthlessness he shows the rest of the world.

His thumb presses lightly into your side, anchoring you back to him. “Focus on me,” he adds softly. “I’m not letting anything ruin this.”