Lines We Cross ||Front Man x Reader||

I left his room, forcing myself to push down whatever the fuck I was feeling. The air outside felt colder, like reality was slapping me back into place. But no matter how much I tried, the last few minutes kept replaying in my head. His hands gripping me. His lips on mine. The way he fucking looked at me like. Like he wanted me as much as he hated the idea of it.

I made my way back to my room, barely acknowledging the guards outside my door. One of them stepped aside, letting me in without a word. As soon as the door shut behind me, I exhaled, long and deep, before flopping onto the bed. My gown crumpled beneath me, the expensive fabric now wrinkled and ruined. I could still feel the remnants of his touch. The weight of his hands, the burn of his grip. My lipstick was smudged, not just on my lips but across my cheek, evidence of what had happened. Evidence of how aggressive and desperate it had been.

I ran a hand over my face, letting out a frustrated groan. What the hell was I supposed to do? How the hell was I supposed to feel?

Because if he wasn't the fucking bad guy, I wouldn't mind this...

That thought alone made me feel sick.

If he wasn't the very thing I was fighting against, the very reason I was stuck in this nightmare, I could've... fuck, I don't even know. Maybe I could've let myself get lost in it. Maybe I could've wanted it without the guilt eating me alive. But that wasn't reality.

Reality was that Hwang In-ho wasn't just some mysterious man in a mask. He was the enemy. The one keeping me locked up here. The one ruining my objective. And on top of that? He fucking lied to me. He deceived me.

The moment I thought about that, my stomach twisted with anger.

And it just got worse. He knew Jun-ho him. Oh plot twist alert. I find out he's his fucking brother?

Does Jun-ho even know about this? I swear to God if he does, and he never even thought about bringing it up. I'm beating his ass the second I'm off this island.

I sat up, running both hands through my hair, pulling slightly at the roots in frustration. My thoughts were all over the place, my emotions tangled up in a mess I didn't know how to sort through. One second, I was furious. The next, I was thinking about how his breath felt against my lips

I hated this. I hated that he had this kind of effect on me.

I needed a fucking distraction. My mind was a mess. So I went to take a shower, letting the hot water burn against my skin, hoping it would wash away everything, my thoughts, my frustration, the way In-ho's lips felt on mine.

Spoiler alert: it didn't.

By the time I was done, I wrapped myself in a robe and collapsed onto my bed, my hair still damp. I didn't even bother putting anything on underneath. I was too exhausted to care. As soon as my head hit the pillow, sleep dragged me under.

I don't know how long I was out before the loud, obnoxious knocking started.

I groaned, forcing myself up, my robe slipping slightly off my shoulder. Whoever the fuck was banging on my door better have a damn good reason. I dragged myself over, yanking it open with a glare.

And of course, it was him.

In-ho stood there, mask off, eyes scanning me up and down like he had every fucking right to.

"What," I snapped.

His gaze lingered for a second longer before he said, "Get dressed. I'll have the guards escort you for breakfast." His voice was calm, but there was something in his expression that wasn't.

I raised an eyebrow, about to say something smart, but then he leaned in, close enough that I could feel his breath against my cheek.

"Unless," he murmured, voice dropping, "you wanna go in that robe with nothing underneath." He pulled back slightly, eyes meeting mine. "That'll be fine by me."

Cocky bastard.

I huffed out a laugh, shoving the door shut in his face. "Go fuck yourself, In-ho."

I heard him chuckle on the other side before his footsteps faded. I let out a breath, leaning against the door for a second.

Fuck.

Okay. If this was how he wanted to play it, fine. Two could play this game.

I opened the closet, stepping inside the small walk-in space. And damn? Outfits. Like, a whole selection of them, as if they were waiting for me to just pick and choose. Amazing.

I scanned through the options before grabbing a black long-sleeve dress—off-the-shoulder, low-cut, and short. My boobs would look good. My legs would look even better. And if In-ho wanted to stare, well, too fucking bad, because he wasn't getting a damn thing from me. No touching. Let's see if he likes the torture.

I slipped it on, pairing it with knee-high black boots. A quick brush through my hair, a little makeup, just enough to make me look effortlessly good, and I was done.

I looked at myself in the mirror, tilting my head.

Yeah. This would piss him off.

Perfect.

Bracing myself, I stepped out of the room. The guard outside barely glanced at me before leading the way. I followed, keeping my face neutral, but inside?

I was ready to fuck with him. Or him. No scratch that he's not getting me.

The guards led me to a large dining room, the doors opening in front of me. Inside, there was a long-ass table, ridiculously fancy for no reason. And there he was, sitting at the far end, like some kind of king in his castle.

His eyes flicked up the moment I stepped inside. He got up, probably thinking I'd wait for him. But I ignored him and went straight to my seat across from him, sitting down like I owned the place.

I could feel his eyes on me. Not subtle at all.

Good. Let him fucking look.

We sat in silence for so long, it felt like an eternity. So I decided to break the silence.

"Does Jun-ho know about this? About you?"

"Yes," he said simply.

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Great."

He leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly. "How do you know Jun-ho?"

I shrugged. "Why does it matter?"

"Answer my question."

I arched a brow. "That's my personal life, In-ho. I keep it private."

He let out a sarcastic little laugh, shaking his head. "What are you two, working together? Or fucking each other?"

Oh. So that's what we're doing.

I pushed my chair back and stood up, walking straight over to him. He didn't move, just stared up at me, challenging. I grabbed his tie, yanking him closer to me.

"Who I fuck or work with," I said, voice low, "has nothing to do with you."

Then I let go and walked away.

I barely got three steps before I heard him following me.

He grabbed my arm and I yanked it right the fuck back.

"Care to have a drink?" he asked, voice calm, like he hadn't just tried to grab me.

I said nothing. But I didn't refuse, either.

So we just walked, him trailing after me.

Walk him like a dog eh?