The clink of crystal cut through the low hum of conversation. "Paid two hundred thousand for an hour," Jinho slurred, swirling his whiskey, "Worth every goddamn penny."

Taehyung grunted, barely glancing up from his own glass. The private penthouse lounge reeked of expensive cigars and stale ambition. Business chatter buzzed uselessly around him. He stretched his cramped shoulders beneath the tailored suit.

Jihoon leaned in conspiratorially, phone screen glowing. "That’s nothing. Check this." His thumb flicked across the display. "Koo. The agency calls her ‘Velvet’. Supposedly booked solid for months." A choked laugh escaped Park Minwoo beside him. "Solid? More like stuffed." Jihoon jabbed his screen again.

A photo filled the display. Pale skin gleaming under harsh club lights, pink lips parted around a gasp. Dark hair spilled over bare, heavy breasts. "Look at that ass," Minwoo breathed, tapping the image. "Like sculpted marble."

Taehyung’s gaze snagged. His fingers tightened around the cool glass. The picture shifted – Koo bent over a leather couch, cheeks flushed, one hand gripping the backrest, the other lost between her thighs. Her eyes were half-closed, mouth a wet, bruised pink. The next image was a blurry clip. Low moans leaked from Jihoon’s phone speaker. Flesh slapped rhythmically against flesh, frantic and wet. Koo arched her back sharply, crying out.

Jihoon smirked, pulling the phone back. "Tighter than anything you’ve ever felt, Tae. Swallows it all." Minwoo snorted. "Cried when Kyung-soo took her ass raw." Taehyung felt heat prickle under his collar, spreading low in his belly. The burn of the whiskey mixed with something sharper, hotter.

He drained his glass. Set it down hard on the polished wood. "Number," he rasped, voice tight. Jihoon’s grin widened. "Finally tempted, CEO Kim?" Minwoo chuckled. "Good luck getting a slot." Taehyung stared at them, his jaw set. Jihoon shrugged, tapped his phone a few times. "Fine. Here." He slid the device across the table. The agency contact glowed on the screen. Taehyung picked up his own phone. His thumb hovered over the dial pad. The sounds from Jihoon's video still echoed faintly in his ears.

Taehyung slipped away from the drunken laughter and stale cigar smoke. Standing by the penthouse's floor-to-ceiling windows, the city glittered below him like spilled diamonds. He pressed the number. One ring. Two. His knuckles went white gripping the phone.

A polished, impersonal female voice answered. "Exquisite Escorts. How may I serve your pleasure?" He pulled in a sharp breath. "Koo. Velvet. When can I spend a night with her?" Silence. Then, "Velvet's schedule requires… extraordinary consideration. Her fee reflects her exclusivity." He cut her off. "Name the price." His tone brooked zero negotiation.

Back in the private lounge, Jihoon nudged Minwoo. "He actually called." Taehyung returned, face impassive but eyes burning darkly. "Well?" Minwoo prodded. Taehyung didn't sit. He slid Jihoon’s phone back. "Tomorrow. Nine PM. My penthouse suite at The Grand."

Jihoon whistled low. "Direct to your personal fortress? Moving fast." Minwoo laughed, lewd. "Remember, Taehyung-ah… squeeze tight." Taehyung ignored them, already moving toward the exit. His tailored coat hung heavy on his shoulders. The image of Koo arching on that couch flashed behind his eyelids. Her wet mouth. The sounds. Anticipation coiled hot and demanding in his gut.

Downstairs, the cold night air hit his face. His sleek black Maybach idled at the curb. As he slid into the leather seat, he caught his reflection in the dark window—a stark, handsome face framed by the city lights. The driver merged into traffic silently. Taehyung leaned his head back, closing his eyes. His mind wasn't on mergers or acquisitions tonight. Only pink lips, pale skin gleaming, and the promise of unprecedented tightness awaiting him tomorrow. His fingers drummed impatiently against his thigh. The car sped through the neon-lit streets toward his empty penthouse.

—

Koo stepped out of the shower, steam clinging to her skin. Her bathroom smelled faintly of vanilla body wash. She wrapped a thin, worn towel around herself, barely covering the swell of her breasts. At her small vanity, she glanced at the agency tablet blinking with tomorrow’s booking: Kim Taehyung, CEO, Kim Enterprises. The Grand Penthouse Suite. 9PM.

Her usual fee… doubled. A slow smirk touched her lips. Rich men always paid extra for exclusivity. Yet sometimes she wondered if she could ever live a normal life with a husband and kids. She sighed pulled out a sheer lace teddy—black, practically see-through—and laid it carefully on her bed.

—

Morning came too fast. Taehyung woke restless, tangled in expensive sheets. He’d dreamed of tangled limbs and high, breathless cries that sounded vaguely like Jihoon’s video. Breakfast tasted like ash. Meetings blurred past. At noon, he snapped at his assistant over a misplaced contract. All day, a low, insistent thrum pulsed beneath his skin. At 7 PM, he dismissed his driver early. He needed the quiet. Needed to prepare. The penthouse gleamed sterile and vast around him.

He lit expensive candles, scattering them near the enormous bed. The scent—sandalwood and spice—felt cloying. Useless. What perfume did she wear? He poured himself a stiff drink, ice clinking sharply in the silence. The clock ticked toward nine. He checked the bedroom again. Pulled the curtains tighter. Outside, the city pulsed like a heartbeat. Every shadow felt too sharp. Every minute stretched. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring down at the city’s glittering sprawl, waiting. Footsteps echoed softly in the marble hall outside his suite door. His pulse jumped hard against his ribs. A soft knock. Three precise taps. He turned slowly.