The next morning, the chill in Taehyung’s office could freeze hell. Koo breezed in, radiating sunshine in a scandalously short red dress that clung like liquid. "Good morning, Mr. Kim!" she chirped, placing his coffee just so. Her usual bounce was subdued, eyes watchful.

Taehyung didn't glance up from the contract he was strangling. "File these." He shoved a towering stack of binders towards the edge of his desk. They teetered precariously. "Alphabetically. By subsidiary. By quarter. Now."

Koo blinked, her smile faltering. "Oh! Okay, sure..." She reached for the pile, fingers brushing his knuckles. He snatched his hand back as if scalded. "Don't touch me," he hissed, finally looking up. His gaze was pure ice, raking over her exposed cleavage. "And wear something that doesn't scream 'pay-by-the-hour' tomorrow. This isn't a fucking brothel."

Koo flinched, genuine hurt flashing in her eyes. Her lower lip trembled into a pout. "But... but Mr. Kim—"

"Did I ask for your opinion?" Taehyung cut her off, voice low and dangerous. He leaned forward, knuckles white on the desk. "Get those files sorted. And try not to distract the entire mailroom with your... professionalism while you're at it." He spat the last word like venom. Koo’s cheeks flushed scarlet. She grabbed the binders, her knuckles matching his for whiteness, and fled without another word, the clack of her heels sharp and wounded.

Later, Koo dropped a stack of reports onto his desk. Her eyes were suspiciously bright. "Quarterly summaries, Mr. Kim." Her voice lacked its usual sugary lilt. Taehyung deliberately let his gaze crawl down her body, lingering insultingly on the curve of her hip beneath the tight fabric.

"Finally managed to focus long enough to finish something?" he drawled, flipping a page without reading it. "Impressive. Must have been hard without Jung’s wrinkled cock keeping you occupied last night."

Koo gasped, jerking back as if slapped. Her pout deepened, lips trembling. Taehyung felt a savage twist of satisfaction seeing her spark dimmed. "Close the door on your way out," he ordered, turning his chair sharply towards the window, his own reflection showing a jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. The silence after she left thrummed with unsaid filth and the phantom scent of her cheap perfume.

The roughness escalated. Passing Koo in the narrow hallway outside Marketing, Taehyung’s palm cracked sharply against her ass. The unexpected sting jolted her forward. "Keep moving," he growled, not breaking stride. Her surprised yelp echoed softly behind him. Later, cornering her near the overflowing supply closet, he shoved her against the shelves. His hand plunged roughly beneath her flimsy top, squeezing her breast hard. "Still think designer labels make you classy?" he sneered, twisting the nipple until she whimpered. "You’re just cheap goods, Koo. Remember it."

He released her abruptly, leaving her flushed and breathless against the shuddering shelves. Her hand flew to her chest, rubbing the soreness, eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears… and something hotter. Something breathless.

"Fetch my dry cleaning, slut," Taehyung barked the next afternoon, tossing a ticket onto her desk without looking up. "And don’t dawdle playing whore with the driver."

Koo flinched visibly at the word, her knuckles whitening as she snatched the ticket. "Yes, Mr. Kim," she whispered, voice thick. As she hurried past his chair, he hooked a finger into the back waistband of her skirt, jerking her back sharply.

His lips brushed her ear, his breath hot. "You like being called names, don’t you?" His whisper was rough gravel. "You get wet thinking about being my little office whore."

Koo froze, a tremor running through her. She didn't deny it. A quiet, choked sound escaped her throat – part sob, part moan. Taehyung shoved her away with contempt, hiding the tremor in his own hand. "Get out," he snarled, forcing his eyes back to the contract he couldn’t read.