Taehyung swanned through the crowded room, and made a beeline for their bay. He was grateful to see that both of their previous beverages had already been replenished.
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Picking up his glass, he swilled the amber liquid whilst pondering his future. It wasn’t just finding a wife that was on his mind, it was more what his mother had said. He also knew that Jimin was tense, his giveaway being the way he chugged down his red wine and kept nibbling his bottom lip.
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He always managed to keep his sense of humor, though.
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‘So,’ Jimin hit the table with an open hand, ‘we have two years to find a woman, marry her, and get her knocked up.’
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Taehyung rested his hand over Jimin’s, joining him in making light of their situation. ‘Not just pregnant. She must produce a son.’
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His friend propped his elbows on the table, his chin resting in his palm. ‘Do you really think it’s possible to find our own wives, or are we being delusional?’
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He thought about his question, his lips curling down as he looked for the right words. ‘It’s possible.’ Taehyung held his glass up, ‘But remember, nothing easy is worth having.’
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Taehyung’s attention shifted when he noticed a familiar face meandering around the room. When their eyes met, he summoned him over with a shallow dip of his head that encouraged him in their direction.
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‘Would you like to browse the latest, Mr Kim?’ he asked in a professional manner.
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It had been some time since he had perused the catalogue containing the latest selection of lambs, so with a flick of his wrist, he invited the agent to present the file.
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Jimin’s eyes darted between Taehyung and the stocky folder as he placed it on the table. ‘You usually find your own sacrifices. You hate paying these guys for lambs that are already half dead?
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Taehyung was already scanning the faces of the first page. ‘I’d prefer a little free time to focus on finding a wife. Wouldn’t you?’
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Jimin’s eyes wandered as he digested his proposal. ‘Sure, I guess that makes sense.’
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Even though the woman would ultimately be discarded, Taehyung preferred one that he was attracted to.
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After all, he did have to fuck her before killing her.
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‘What about that one?’ Jimin pointed to a twenty-something brunette number who had potential. It was the tear-soaked eyes, and the trail of slime beneath her nose that Taehyung found quite disgusting.
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‘No.’
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No wonder some of these women weren’t selected. They were dropping in standard. The portfolio was a thick binder filled with plastic wallets. In each was a headshot of the woman, her identity number, and where she was found. They would usually put their latest catches at the front, leaving the “unchosen” lost towards the back.
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Taehyung continued browsing the sea of distraught faces, sneering at each pathetic countenance staring back at him until he gave pause.
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Shoulder-length locks with a golden-orange hue, loose curls falling out of her back to front baseball cap. The amber glow of her eyes matched her hair, and her skin; it wasn’t the usual light complexion. It had a radiant, sun-kissed glow.
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Studying each feature thoroughly, Taehyung found himself uncharacteristically enthralled. The slim, angular nose with freckles, the full lips that were too plump for her delicate face, a mouth that truly intrigued him, for it held a beautiful smile.
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There was not an ounce of fear to be seen.
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‘Um, earth to Taehyung,’ Jimin said, leaning over the table and sliding his head between Taehyung and the image that had him entranced.
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Taehyung snapped the file shut.
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‘Let’s go,’ he said, shuffling out of the booth, tucking the file beneath his arm.
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‘What are you doing, Tae?’ Jimin asked with a puzzled frown. ‘If you want one, let's just shout Mr Bak over.’
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‘I’ll bring it back,’ he said after necking his second drink, ‘you coming or what?’
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*
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Throwing his blazer over the chaise longue, Taehyung slid his belt out of his waistband, unbuttoned the top half of his shirt, and then threw himself onto the bed. The folder was beside him, and he bit his bottom lip in anticipation of seeing the photo that sent a rush of excitement through his veins.
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He flipped to the third page, his eyes jumping straight to the headshot of the woman who’d earlier caught his attention.
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Why he decided to leave with it, he had no idea. It had been a long time since something had piqued his interest.
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Taehyung pressed his lips together as he traced his finger over the number below the photo; he couldn’t imagine her being a screamer.
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He was still studying her face, when a thought crossed his mind. A thought that didn’t sit well with him.
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What if she was already off the market?
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Reaching to the nightstand, Taehyung grabbed his phone, scrolled through his contacts until he found the man in charge of the operation, and placed the phone to his ear.
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His call was promptly answered. ‘HB Security. Do you have a reference number?’
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‘One, zero, nine, two, one, zero.’
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‘Thank you, and your name?’
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‘Mr Kim Taehyung.’
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The gruff voice instantly softened and became courteous upon realising who he was speaking to. ‘Thank you, Mr Kim. Would you like to make a purchase today? She’s still available.’
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‘I’m enquiring for more information and an additional photo.’
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‘No problem, sir. I can take her off the market for seven days until you confirm. Is two pm tomorrow a good time?’
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Taehyung simpered. ‘It is.’
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The portfolio had been around since he could remember, and every week, new faces were added to the collection from all parts of the globe. The kingpin in charge of the trafficking was an ace at selecting easy targets. Most of them would not be missed.
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They came in handy for last minute sacrifices mainly, and had used the service here and there in the past.
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With his father’s words running through his mind, it made Taehyung all the more determined not to have his wife selected for him. Afterall, his parents had found each other in a conventional way. They fell in love and lived a happy life.
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He had asked his father many times over the years what made him certain he could trust her, and every time his reply was the same.
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Our connection was instant. She was the one.
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From the moment he saw that photo, Taehyung needed to know more.
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Whether she survived would be an entirely different matter.
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