Mafia and Duty.

"Duty"

When Joon was giving the toast, I simply acted like the most joyful and grateful wife, the one who had everything, not only a graduate from the best arts university, but married to Jeon Joon-jung himself.

But he and I were the only ones who knew the truth about everything, well, us and basically the whole damn mafia.

Except for our most intimate agreement, and that was only known to us and their guards.

A cold wind hit me and I cursed the moment. My damn n*****s hardened.

The thing is, even though I obviously can't wear a bra with this dress because it wouldn't look good, Joon has this thing about me always wearing one or n****e covers, which I hate, so this time I didn't wear them thinking he wouldn't notice.

I shifted uncomfortably beside him, trying to, I don't know, change my posture so they wouldn't be noticeable, but obviously it was impossible. And my failed attempts at the impossible made him realize it.

Fuck.

He glanced at me sideways, then discreetly lowered his gaze to where the fabric of my dress was pulling. His brow furrowed immediately, and he gave me a look that said it all.

I'm completely screwed.

He squeezed my hand tighter, digging his fingers in so hard I swear I felt my hand would go numb and fall off. But then I remembered where I was and just smiled, just like he did, to continue his bullshit speech.

As he finished his speech of fake joy and pride for his wife, the room erupted in applause and he took advantage of the moment to grab my face with both hands and smash his mouth against mine.

His kiss was strong, painful, but no one could guess the truth behind it. To everyone else, it was a declaration of love. To us, it was the complete opposite.

—We'll talk about this later, in private. You can count on it. —He murmured against my lips before biting my lower lip hard.

That was both a promise and a threat.

Still reeling from the kiss, his words, and the pain in my lip, we mingled hand in hand with the crowd, accepting congratulations and well wishes with kind smiles and polite nods. All the while, I could still feel the threat echoing against my lips.

---

When the celebration ended, he was holding my hand tightly as we headed to the limo. s**t, at least I'm drunk enough not to fully pay attention to what's coming.

My steps were unsteady as he dragged me out of the room and toward the limousine. He didn't say a word, not even when he carelessly shoved me inside and followed behind.

Once the limousine started moving and I was still struggling to adjust my dress, which had gotten tangled around my legs and was getting caught under my own weight, Joon grabbed my chin tightly to turn my face so that I was looking directly at him.

—You're completely drunk.

—Oh yeah? —I smiled broadly, making him hold me tighter.

—Don't play with my damn patience. You're making a damn fool of yourself, and you know what's at stake. This isn't child's play, Nina.

I rolled my eyes. —God, I'm only drunk because I'm supposed to be celebrating because I damn well graduated. If nobody cares, well, I do, so give me a damn break. —I said before wragging myself out of his grip to grab some champagne from the limo's small refrigerator. It was the only thing I liked about damn limos.

—Besides, I don't know what the hell it is to you whether my n*****s show through a damn fabric or not. They're covered, nobody can see them. Besides, what the hell do you care? It's damn natural. —I added without him saying anything about it while I opened the bottle, but he was obviously angrier about that than about me being drunk. He hadn't even really noticed while we were at the party.

With a sudden movement, he snatched the bottle from my hands. I saw him, agitated because he wanted the damn bottle back, when I saw his eyes flashing with barely contained fury.

—You know perfectly well why it matters! —he shouted, his voice thick with rage. —I have a damn reputation to defend, an image to uphold. And you, you're part of that image! A reflection of me, in every way.

He uncorked the champagne bottle with a sharp hiss, and the foam bubbled above it. Then he brought it to his lips.

—f*****g n*****s matter because you're in Korea, not London, f*****g United Kingdom. Get that through your head. People here actually care.

He sighed, urgently unbuttoning his tie and taking another swig from the bottle, his posture far too relaxed for him. —I don't understand how, after three damn years, you still don't get that s**t.

—You're going to make me really lose patience with you one day, —he finished, before continuing to drink the champagne as if it were water.

I saw him with his lips pressed tightly together as he drank the champagne I was about to drink. I knew he was angry. Maybe he was right, but that didn't make it any less annoying.

I hate this damn life. I want to run away from it, but there's no escape. Isn't that right?

I smiled with a wry snort. —Whatever.

The limousine slowed to a stop, its engine purring softly as it pulled into the driveway of our estate. I could feel the growing tension between us. It made me wonder if he would ever actually carry out his threats, or if I would push him to that point.

I don't know, but I ignored it as I got out of the limousine without looking back, quickening my pace to enter the mansion and my own room, far away from whatever is really going through his head beyond the damn demands of our world.

Despite everything, he too was a prisoner of his own life. Married to a girl he didn't love. A child. And yes, perhaps that's what I am.

When I entered through the enormous doors, the first thing I saw were some men who were not from Joon, standing in specific corners.

Great.

I don't want to deal with this right now.

I heard Joon walk by before I heard him say, —Jeon. —I didn't even have to answer; we were already walking to his office.

Upon entering Joon's office, his father was already sitting in his chair as if it were his own. His expression was serious as he slowly stood up and leaned against the desk with his arms crossed.

I definitely need the Korean secret to looking young at any age. Mr. Jeon definitely did a great job with Joon, as his son was almost an exact copy of him. Except he has softer features, perhaps inherited from his mother.

His mother, the same one that the man in front of us killed in front of him, his own father.

Within the underworld, it was common knowledge that Jeon killed his own wife as if it were nothing, simply because she had found love with one of his own guards. Pregnant with a bastard's child.

I don't really judge him; it's something that could happen to me since I don't really know what love is. At least she found it despite its disastrous ending.

Sometimes I think about what Joon himself had to go through as just a child. I don't think it was anything less than traumatic.

Not only seeing your mother murdered in front of your eyes by your own father, but being taught that it was normal. A duty. And growing up with it and all the demands that came after. Murder. Power.

There's a reason he's like that.

And that's why maybe I sometimes think he can be a completely different person on the inside. Very, very different on the inside.

But he has no salvation. Neither do I. This is our life. This is who we are. And we will die this way.

No happy ending. Just Mafia and duty.