The Billionaire's Bodyguard

Wolves in The White Palace

[PARK SEO-YEON]

The private elevator ride to the 90th floor usually took forty-five seconds of silent, smooth ascent. Tonight, it felt like an eternity trapped in a coffin with a dormant volcano.

Jin-Woo stood next to me, taking up too much space. The air in the small cabin grew thick with his scent—sweat, copper, and that raw, masculine musk that made my mouth go dry. I couldn't stop looking at his hands hanging by his sides. The blood on his split knuckles had dried into dark, rusty flakes.

Those hands had broken men a few minutes ago. Now they were inches from my silk dress.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Velvet was scratching at the back of my mind, whispering dangerous things. He’s bleeding on your private elevator. Lick it off.

I clenched my jaw so hard it ached. I needed to get him processed, signed, and hidden away before I did something insane.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.

"Welcome to paradise," I muttered dryly.

We stepped out into the penthouse foyer. It was a cavern of polished white marble, minimalist Italian furniture, and a two-story wall of glass overlooking the glittering expanse of Seoul below. It was sterile, expensive, and silent.

Usually.

"Unnie! You're late! You promised you’d watch my live stream comeback!"

A blur of platinum blonde hair and pink silk pajamas sprinted across the marble floor.

Park Ji-Eun. The middle sister. The Nation’s Fairy. Currently looking like a very expensive, very angry stick of cotton candy.

She skidded to a halt three feet away, pointing a manicured finger at me.

Then she saw him.

Her jaw literally dropped. Her big, doll-like eyes went impossibly wide as they traveled up Jin-Woo’s t-shirt, over the mountain ranges of his chest and shoulders, to his face.

"Whoa," she breathed, the anger evaporating instantly. "Who is that? Did you order a stripper? Is it my birthday?"

Before I could answer, a groan echoed from the darkened hallway to the left.

"If it's not pizza, kick it out. It's ruining my latency."

Park Min-Ji. The youngest. She shuffled into the light wearing an oversized black hoodie and sweatpants, her face illuminated by the blue glow of a portable gaming console she refused to look up from.

My sanctuary. My headache.

"Girls," I said, my voice sharp. "Family meeting. Now."

[KANG JIN-WOO]

I hated it immediately.

Too many windows. Too many sightlines from adjacent buildings. The white marble floor was a tactical nightmare—slippery, and it would show footprints. Or blood.

And then there were the targets.

The blonde one—Client #2—was vibrating with energy. She was circling me now, examining me like I was a new sports car parked in the living room. She poked my bicep with one finger. It was harder than she expected; she winced.

"He’s solid," she announced to the room. She looked up at me, batting eyelashes thick with mascara. "Hi. I’m Ji-Eun. Are you single? You look like you could bench press my car."

The gamer—Client #3—finally looked up from her console. She pushed thick-rimmed glasses up her nose, squinting at me analytically.

"He smells like a dumpster behind a pork restaurant," Min-Ji stated flatly. "And his energy efficiency is terrible. Look at that muscle mass. High caloric upkeep. Bad investment, Unnie."

I sighed, a deep, rattling sound in my chest. I was tired. My knuckles throbbed. I just wanted to find a dark corner and commiserate with my fiber optic connection.

"I'm security," I grunted, addressing the room at large. "Where do I sleep?"

Seo-Yeon stepped between me and her sisters, her corporate mask sliding back into place. She looked exhausted, terrified, and infuriatingly beautiful in her torn dress.

"Not yet," she said coldly. "My office. We need to sign the contract."

She led me down a hallway lined with art that cost more than my old neighborhood.

Her office was huge, dominated by a massive mahogany desk that she immediately put between us. It was a pathetic barrier.

She slid a digital tablet across the polished wood.

"Standard Non-Disclosure Agreement. Employment contract. Salary is fifty million won a month, plus living expenses."

I picked up the tablet. I didn't read it. I just scrolled to the bottom.

"Is the internet speed in writing?" I asked.

She blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"The sub-1ms fiber connection to my room. Is it in the contract?"

"Yes. Clause 14B. The penthouse has a dedicated commercial line to the Telecom backbone."

I scribbled my signature on the pad.

"You just bought yourself a monster, Lady." I tossed the tablet back onto the desk. It clattered loudly in the quiet room. "Now. Shower. Bed. Before I fall over."

Seo-Yeon stood up. She looked at my dirty t-shirt, my bloody hands, my general aura of violence sitting in her pristine office. Her nostrils flared slightly.

The fear was receding, replaced by that other look I’d seen in the alley. The hunger. She was looking at me like I was a dangerous pet she had just impulsively bought and didn't know how to handle.

"The East Wing guest suite," she said, her voice tight. "Ji-Eun will show you."

She leaned forward slightly on the desk, her eyes locking onto mine. The air in the room suddenly felt heavier.

"And Jin-Woo?" she whispered. "Try not to bleed on the Egyptian cotton sheets. They're imported."