Gi-won
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
The sound of gunfire rattles through the air, my hair damp with sweat as I focus intently on the target ahead.
My grip tightens around the cold metal of the gun, the recoil jarring but strangely satisfying. Even with the headphones muffling the noise, the silence between each shot feels deafening, an oddly comforting reprieve in the chaos of my life.
The skin of my palms is raw from countless rounds, but I still can't bring myself to keep on the leather gloves when shooting.
The sensation, the vibration of the gun, the sharp kick against my hand are grounding. The pain is a reminder of control, a feeling I crave in a world where it often slips through my fingers.
But, as always, my moment of peace is interrupted.
"Sir."
My assistant, Ji-ho, calls out to me, his tone insistent.
I've ignored him twice already, but the sharp edge in his voice tells me I can't afford to this time. With a reluctant sigh, I put the pistol down and pulled off the headphones.
"Finally."
Ji-ho mutters, relief evident as I move toward him, slipping on my gloves.
"Don't get too happy."
I reply, taking the towel he offers and wiping the sweat from my face.
"I only stopped because I want to know if there's any information about her."
"No."
he says, flipping through a stack of papers.
"Everything seems to be moving smoothly on Graves's side."
Still, there's a flicker of hesitation in his expression.
"What's with the look?"
I ask, narrowing my gaze at him as I toss the towel aside.
"Just..."
He pauses, clearly weighing his words.
"Why are you so interested in a woman like her? I know it's not just about the money."
"Do you want the truth?"
I ask, my tone even as I meet his curious stare.
"Yes."
The word is cautious and hesitant, but I can see his need for answers.
"I need a wife to inherit the Valentine Dynasty from my father."
I say lazily, as if the weight of the statement doesn't press heavily on my shoulders.
"Someone expendable, someone I can't fall in love with or won't hinder me in any way."
The words taste bitter on my tongue, but they're true.
I say them with conviction, even as memories of Onelia Romero surface unbidden. The moment her eyes locked onto mine, her finger touching my wrist to stop me from pulling the trigger on her father, and then it hit.
Normally, the feeling of disgust overflows my body when someone touches me, but her—she was different. I felt that jolt, that same adrenaline rush I get when I squeeze the trigger.
I can feel it right now.
Unless it's just my exhaustion playing tricks on me. Balancing all my international businesses, college, my role in the underworld, and my father's impossible expectations has left me frayed.
"It's shocking how her dad's shooting came up so conveniently."
Ji-ho remarks, his voice breaking through my thoughts. It's a dry observation, but it manages to ease some of the tension coiled in my chest.
"How did her father end up in that state?"
I ask as we walk toward the exit of the training room.
"A gunshot to the side."
Ji-ho answers, flipping through the stack of documents in his hand.
"We need more on the Romero family and anyone targeting them."
I instruct sharply, my voice cutting through the air. I sighed, muttering under my breath.
"I hope this woman is worth all this trouble."
Ji-ho nods, and I leave him behind, making my way to my room to shower and prepare for the next relentless wave of responsibilities.
.
.
.
Hours later, I find myself back in yet another meeting room.
The higher-ups drone on about marketing strategies and expansion plans, their words blending into a monotonous hum. Boredom weighs on me like a shroud, but I endure it, knowing this is just a mask for our real operations.
The Valentine enterprise by day is a legitimate business, a corporate juggernaut in marketing and development.
But by night, we are something else entirely. We are the underworld. The withering rose clan, an international crime syndicate. Two worlds, one empire. Our reach extends across states and across continents: Korea, Italy, Bali, Greece.
No one dares challenge us.
And yet, even with all that power, my father insists on one condition before he passes the title of head to me: I must find a wife. To outsiders, it seems simple. But for me, finding someone who fits my wants and doesn't disgust me with a single touch is a pain.
Love isn't an option. Neither is leaving. Which leaves Onelia Romero as my only answer. She will be bound to me, no way out, no chance of attachment. Just a means to secure my future without the complications of emotions.
The meeting finally concludes, and I rise, my movements slow as I nod at the others.
"Until next time,"
I say, feigning professionalism.
As the room clears, my phone buzzes.
Ring...Ring.
My phone buzzes in the pocket of my pants, and I pull it out to see Eun-woo's name flashing on the screen. I answer the call, already knowing what to expect.
"Hello, what's up?"
"Gio!"
Asher shouts, as usual, his voice carrying the same energy as always. I don't even flinch anymore; it's just part of the routine when picking up a call from him.
"Yes, what seems to be the problem, Woo?"
"So, the three of us heard there's a huge party happening in two days in Las vegas, and we're planning to attend. Would you like to join us?"
I raise an eyebrow, leaning back in my chair.
"So you're going to come all the way from Korea to Las Vegas?"
"Yes, of course, Las Vegas!"
He cheers, and I can hear the rest of them shouting in the background.
"We're planning out small events after and during our week's stay!"
He added, excitement clear in his tone.
It's in two days, and though I'm dreading a drink now, the thought of seeing them again lifts my mood. It's only been a week since I've been off college, but partying with those guys is always a good time.
"Alright, I'll be there. You guys can stay at one of the hotels I own."
I reply, not missing a beat.
Their cheers erupt in unison, and I can practically hear their grins.
"You still have to pay, though." I add, smirking as their excitement suddenly drops.
I laugh, ending the call. "Two days, huh?" I whisper, leaning my head back on the chair. "That's on her birthday."