Given

by aljaebriel

Richard Yan plus Avatar.

7. Vixx Hotel N and Leo

Hotel Eau De VIXX

Installment I

N – "…is the most pleasing to the eye"

Shayla Sinclair stood rigidly behind the arched, marble-top counter, unsure of what she should do. The key for the guest she had been servicing was gripped tightly in her perfectly manicured hand and if she didn't move soon to give the sour old woman the thing, she'd have a lot more on those pretty hands to deal with. But for right now, there was the matter of the man currently crouched down behind her, feeling her leg up like it was the highway to heaven.

Intelligent girl she was, she couldn't fathom it. One minute, someone from HR was strolling up to the counter with a man she'd never seen before, yet was clearly the replacement for the assistant manager that was just let go for reasons the entire staff at Hotel Arộme D'or was forbidden to discuss. They were conversing amiably until they reached the counter and the HR associate dismissed himself, leaving the new assistant manager in Shayla's wake – and the first thought that came to her head as he introduced himself was that the uniform didn't wear him, he wore the uniform. She'd never been this up close and personal with an Asian man who oozed so much style and grace, never in the Bay Area where she'd gotten so used to seeing metrosexual and more-than-metrosexual Asian men. He was severely tall and broad enough to compensate for his slim frame, although from the way his hips, thighs and legs filled out his slim-fitted, meticulously creased pants, Shayla suspected he kept up an effective work-out routine. His neck was slender and elongated like a swan's, cheek bones damn near touching effeminate, sparkling eyes and a jawline that, if air were solid, could slice through it if he turned too quickly.

What stole Shayla's breath away the most, though, was his complexion. She'd seen all kinds of varying tones in the Bay Area Asians as well, but this one's was closer to a rich, molten bronze. A memorizing tan that put her own cinnamon tone, for which she was subtly proud, to shame, she felt. He almost hurt to look at.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Cha," she'd tried not to purr when they shook hands, then tried not to gag when she noticed his hand enveloped hers completely, a map of veins protruding under the skin. "Welcome to Hotel Arộme D'or."

"Thank you, I appreciate it." He spoke with a slightly husky accent, making her wonder where he was from – and wonder why she suddenly needed to have a seat.

Harper Cha. That's what his name tag read.

She was grateful that the light, casual chat that followed helped to wan the initial shock of his beauty. He smiled a lot, which was contagious, and despite his regal air, he made it his business to lean over, elbows and arms all over the counter, to talk to her freely. It implied he was interested in his subordinates as people first before employees, and that was a good sign. Not that he was flirting.

At least, this is what she thought before.

She had been reveling a bit in the smoky scent of his cologne when he rounded the counter in the midst of their conversation, to acquaint himself with her work station. Of course, as the head receptionist in a five-star hotel, Shayla's area was neat and organized. As it was near evening, and her shift was about to be over, guests were only trickling in now, so she fixated her gaze on the immaculate, Grecian themed fountain in the middle of the expansive lobby as she spoke with him. She liked to stare off into space at it whenever she wasn't busy. It depicted, in rose-gold plated sculptures, Paris of Troy deciding on whom to bestow the golden apple to – the goddess Athena, Hera, or Aphrodite. What little she did know of the myth, she remembered the envy and spite of the other two goddesses who weren't chosen played a crucial part in the Trojan War. One could take a wild guess as to why the owner of the ever flashy and grand Hotel Arộme D'or decided to depict this out of anything else; that much Shayla knew. But she still enjoyed staring at it.

Shayla was about to idly ask the disembodied man moving about behind her about where he was from when the dried, leopard print clad prune showed up. The woman rudely demanded her key, to which Shayla politely asked her name for check-in. She was especially cautious to be as professional as possible because Harper Cha was evaluating her every move. She'd learned a long time ago that as friendly as superiors may be, it was never okay to let down your guard or think you were on their level. New employers, more than any other kind, were high on the list of superiors who silently and incessantly put you to the test.

As she was procuring the key, trying to ignore the eyes trailing her from both the craby woman and her evaluator, her nerves must have gotten the best of her because she accidently ran into a stack of bills she's been assessing to file –precariously overlapping the lip of the lower-level counter – and they fluttered to the floor. The guest muttered disapprovingly but before Shayla could bend to get to them, Mr. Cha placed a heavy, bronze hand on her shoulder to halt her. "I'll get them Shayla," he'd said softly, much unlike the light and animate way he'd been speaking before.

Then the next moment, it was happening.

He had crouched down, the simple movement stirring up the air around her and making her breathe in more of his fragrance. She heard papers shuffling and sliding…and a fingertip on the back of her ankle caused her to flinch. The tip tentatively started to ascend past the strap of her heel and up her calf, the back of her knee, all the way to the back of her thigh. The tip turned into five and then a palm as it went down slowly, so warm and teasing. Shayla had frozen. And this was her life right now.

A man was feeling her up, and doing a through, inconspicuous job of it, notwithstanding they are in public in their place of work.

Oh, this was the real test. Her first instinct was to wail on him, causing a scene that would surely get her out of the situation.

Yet doing so might backfire. He could claim he was only picking up the papers, the old woman as his witness.

On the long term, going as far as claiming sexual harassment – she knew how that would go. It was a miracle she'd even been able to work here without being a pasty blonde or a model-esque Latina. Good old misogyny and racial discrimination would assure that her job is jeopardized more so than his.

Her second instinct was to swivel down to him incredulously. Is he an undercover psychopath? A fine thing like him was really going out his way to touch her like this? Asian men in this city could like black women? If she wasn't the type of woman to grow leg hair, would he be appalled?

At present, time is stilled. The old creature has been distracted by someone included in her party. The echoing voices and click-clacking of heels and expensive men's shoes on the waxed floors are muted noise in her ears. Mr. Cha uses his whole hand to grip the back of her leg as it slides up and down agonizingly slow, making Shayla shiver and readjust her stance. That was a lot of thigh and leg for him to molest. Was she thankful he had the hand for it?

I should fart.

Yet even as the thought came, she dismissed it. Her bottom lip slipped back into her mouth to be bitten and bothered. Her lids fluttered and something released from between her thighs. His thumb pressed into her soft flesh where the crease of ass was and Shayla just about hitched her breath.

If nothing else was evident, it was that not only was Mr. Cha used to getting what he wanted, he was always assured of it through brute will.

"Excuse me? Why are you just standing there?" Shayla snaps back to the old goat who has her gnarly hand out. "My key?"

"Oh yes, right Mrs. McNeil." Pointedly jerking her leg out of his grasp, she whisks back to the other side of the counter. "Here is your key. Please enjoy your stay at Hotel Arộme D'or and-

"Hmph!" Mrs. McNeil snatches her purse off the counter, whirling away snootily and rolling her eyes.

Any other day, Shayla would have gotten petty with the old bitch later on. She was tight with Binny in room service; he'd hook her up with some food pranks and ghostly scams no problem.

For now, she had another dastardly entity to deal with.

Mr. Cha has stood back up smoothly, pushing the paper back upon the counter next to her. "You should be more careful, Shayla Sinclair."

"Yes sir," she grits between her teeth as she taps away at the keyboard.

"Your deadline to have these filed is by the end of morning tomorrow. Please see to it promptly."

That makes her glare at him out the corner of her eye, but to her relief, she recognizes the half-teasing twinkle in his eye. A dry smile grazes her lips.

"Yes sir."

You would have some nerve trying to get on my case when you've just-

"What is it you're wearing?"

When did he return to standing in front of her at the counter? Shayla swallows, trying to concentrate on inputting information in the system. Not the way his voice deceptively takes on an innocence he had once upon a time. "Not sure. It's a gift from a friend, just trying it out today."

"Reminds me of black cherries."

"There's a distinction from red cherries?"

"I don't know about anyone else, but there is for me." The intent stare makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Finally he pulls a business card from his breast pocket, takes one of the fancy golden pens from the even fancier canister, and begins to scribble on the back of it.

God, how could he be even more attractive when he's in thought?

How is this pervert even still considered attractive to her?

"Are you familiar with the presidential suites here?" He's still writing.

Shayla responds tightly: "Aside from the hotel blueprints, no. I was toured around the hotel when I first started working here so I might have been taken into one but-

"That'll do." Mr. Cha's face is expressionless as he pushes the card over with two fingers. "Do not be late."

He leaves, with Shayla doing her damnest not to swipe the offending card up in frustration. Instead she boredly picks it up, reading it and multitasking with her typing.

Suite C. 9pm. Mind that you're seen as little as possible, if not at all.

A snort resonates in the back of her throat. This motherfucker was dead serious. And here she was thinking he wanted to see her privately on some unfair bullshit that would pit her as the bad guy for "performing poorly in front of guests" and him as the "heroic boss."

Hmm…maybe she'd prefer that…

He better not be expecting a trench coat and heels.

_

"Were you seen?"

"No." Shayla rolls her eyes, fully stepping into the room…jaw about to unhinge at the sight of lit candles sitting on almost every surface. "Uh-um." She clears her throat. "You do realize this is considered unauthorized entry?"

Seated on the end of the colossal bed, Harper Cha crosses one lithe leg over the other, his posture prim…erect. "You will not get into trouble."

"Not confident that you won't."

He flashes a grin in the reddish-gold candlelight. "Are you worrying about me?"

It doesn't take long for her to decide not to answer that. Gibberish would just fall from her lips; this man was gorgeous. As in, it looked like she was about to fall into a contract with Satan himself, and she had no qualms about it as long as he was in that uniform and the light glared off his metallic skin like so.

Absentmindedly, Shayla peels off her jacket, loses tennis shoes she'd changed into when her shift was done. "Sir-

"My name is Cha Hakyeon," he corrects smoothly. "That is how you will address me in private."

"Ha-kyeon…Hakyeon?"

"Yes. Though I am sure…" The deviant stands and takes his time approaching her. Once he's there, towering before her, he lifts her chin up sharply. Dilated wickedness and hunger overwhelm her own vulnerable gape when he peers down at her. "You will find other ways to address me while I'm deep inside you."

She barely hears herself gasp. " Oh my God," Shayla murmurs, bowing her head. He only tilts it back up.

"See," he hisses, "You already got the hang of it."

She imagines this is the equivalent of how a snake silkily ensnares its prey before violently striking it. Hakyeon balls her jewel dusted, white ruffled collar up firmly, shoves her close and crushes his mouth to hers. Just as fervently, Shayla moans and clutches his backside, becoming submissive quicker than she'd remembered ever becoming. His other capable hand cups her ass through the tight, short shirt and rams her up into him so hard, she can feel every inch of him that will fulfill what she never thought she needed.

The action widens her eyes –just as wide minutes later, on her hands and knees upon the bed. Hakyeon had ordered for only her skirt to stay on, and he was currently tugging her panties down with his teeth, an incisor intentionally scraping her skin. When he uses both hands to hike up the skirt and pushes his head into her soaking folds, Shayla bucks back into him with a cry. Her head hangs limply then, shuddery breaths taken and nipples hardening in ultimate defeat. "Beautiful girl," he whispers into her womanhood before clasping her hips and driving his tongue inside.

She'd been apprehensive about letting him do that since the time he set to meet didn't allow for her to shower off the day beforehand. She'd assumed he let her do so in the suite.

Was it that urgent, Cha Hakyeon? And coherent thought dissipates once he winds and laps in deeper, a finger circling into her clit.

Yes. Yes, it was that urgent.

Shayla is reduced to slumping into the pillows with his ministrations. Her dark thighs quake the more zealous he becomes, making a show of smacking loudly and humming back in approval every time she moans out – those damn hums. They were almost as numbing as the moments he pulled away to breathe hotly into her opening. She'd imagine the sticky threads connecting his lips, chin and jaw to her pussy, reluctant to have him remove his face, and get wet all over again. "Ha…Hakyeon," she whimpers, sucking in her stomach at a particularly sensitive spot his tongue reaches.

If only she could see the smirk that came with it.

Truly, it is all a hazy blur. The heat from the candles sheens their skin, making them glow unnaturally. Shayla can recall returning the favor as expertly as she can, amazed at how much praise she receives, like the man is nearly put out his mind. Curses and words that are clearly not in English beat more than caress her ears. It is from there that his moans are completely uninhibited. Then it is Shayla's turn to smirk.

She can also recall how long it took for her to adjust to his size. All stereotypes dispelled, Shayla couldn't help but to scream in ecstasy once the gorgeous man had her pinned at his mercy, his thrusts rhythmic and his lips parted slightly to let out low pants. He loved to keep his hands preoccupied with her thighs and legs the entire time; stroking up and down as he held them up wide and high, admiring them when he pushed them together and back, and smacking them every so often to remind her who was boss.

Leaned down, with their faces a centimeter part and her wrists locked into the mattress, Hakyeon pounds into her faster. "Say…" He sucks in air, convulsing, closing his eyes, "…my motherfucking name."

" Hakyeon~," Shayla warbles, playing with a lock of hair at the back of his head, her eyes drooping in satisfaction.

" How are you this pretty?" the breathy whisper comes, with a different edge to it that she has yet to hear.

But the passionate, aggressive stare into her eyes is unchanged.

Midmorning the next day, as Shayla is beginning her shift is a cheerful mood, she spots her debonair lover striding towards the counter. Beaming, she greets, "Good morning, Mr. Cha."

He couldn't have not heard her, yet she's left hanging in the cold wind. He doesn't look at her, doesn't acknowledge her, doesn't see her. Her co-worker, Alexis, who has been out sick, is approached like she was yesterday. Hakyeon introduces himself in the same fashion, with a follow-up conversation that is so similar to what theirs had been, Shayla's gradually falling smile is complimented with breakfast protesting from her stomach.

Trying to tune them out, she tends to the guests with her usual charm.

I guess that's that. We'll see how long he lasts here.

She doesn't realize that her typing at the computer is little louder than necessary, nor does she hear how harshly the phone bangs in the cradle when she hangs up with potential, affluent guests and important clientele. On one such occasion, she thinks she can feel his side gaze on her, perhaps warning her.

Two can play at this game hunny.

Shayla squares her shoulders. He may have fucked the first night, but that didn't mean he knew enough about her to keep her out of her element. If she had to, she'd put him in his place no matter what.

Imagine her surprise when, later that night, the bastard is able to bring the gears of vengeance in her head to a screeching stop.

What is taking you, Shayla? It's a text from an unknown number. 9pm.

Fancy that. He decides to send it right as she's about to exit the revolving doors.

Scowling, she pivots around on her red bottoms and begins a determined march towards the elevators

Oh yeah I'm coming alright. You keep waiting right there, asshole.

The button to the top floor is raped with her jackhammering finger; one look at her murderous countenance and guests from floor to floor opt to politely take the next car. Good. The shimmering, metallic gold walls of the elevator capture her every livid angle – along with the tiny, hidden cameras in the upper corners. "She's back at it," a security guard hollers to his friend from the survellience room, and a throaty laugh is his response. Shayla Sinclair on the rampage again –who could have pissed her off this time? "Should I keep track?"

"No Bill. You know she'll find out we were being nosy and come after us next."

"Man," Bill sighs in disappointment. More riotous laughter from the coffee room.

Meanwhile, Shayla has stomped off the elevator at last, lower part of her cardigan billowing behind her like a villain's cape.

I owe you one. Now's the perfect opportunity to give you the ass whooping you asked for yesterday!

She swipes the key card from her cleavage, missing the slot a few times from trying to savagely slide it in.

I got yo 9pm you slick ass, fruit of the loom-

Shayla literally kicks the door in once the soft 'click' is heard and strides through. "Listen you-

"Late," Hakyeon admonishes with a growl, suit jacket off to the side. He wastes no time getting up, spinning her around and shoving her into the wall without using all of his strength – otherwise, Shayla would be paying a visit to the dentist.

"What the fuck?"

"Silence." It's a stern command yet she swears she can hear a bit of amusement behind it. It enrages her even more, so she struggles. "What was that shit earlier, huh? So it this what you are? Community dick for the working class?"

That does it; he outright laughs, making sure to push up into her as much as he can. "You missed me, didn't you?"

"How can I miss what I've seen all day?"

"Don't play dumb."

" You don't play dumb!"

"Don't make me take off my belt," he cautions closely into her ear, exhaling into it. The shiver it vibrates through her pulses through him as well, so he smirks.

"And do what?"

Sounds like you need to be spanked, mami.

Shayla shakes his voice out of her mind just as Hakyeon interjects dangerously, "Noose it around that pretty neck…and pull…until you beg for my forgiveness."

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, it clicks.

"Then I dare you," Shayla says in a dark voice, turning so the side of her face is against the imported wallpaper. Her thick lips are lifted into a predatory smirk even though she'd been pegged as prey, but Hakyeon is further taken back when she reaches down and rips her own panties down her legs. They stop halfway, just under her knees, and she spreads as far as the red, lace garment will allow. "I fucking dare you."

Shock slowly morphing into subdued excitement, Hakyeon leans back into her ear, simultaneously inhaling her scent: a little sweat, earthly hair products for those luscious curls and his favorite…the all-consuming smell of black cherries. "You double dare me…"

Shayla replies with a bitten lip, and he favors silence as well. All that is heard is the jangling of a belt being unclasped, the rough jerking of leather through cashmere loops. His hand palms the middle of her back to keep her steady – or to keep her from running from him, whichever one prefers. She doesn't blink, rather, she closes her eyes in bliss when the strap is wound around her neck and tightened to his need. "Comfortable?" is his nasty hiss into her scalp.

"Not yet."

Hakyeon shakes his head to himself winningly. With one hand, he unbuttons and unzips his pants, pulls out his aching dick with a few pre-jerks and lifts his hips up into her exposed backside.

Once more, the size takes her by surprise. All the more since he hadn't given her a complimentary eating. She moans hard as his strokes push her further and further against the wall – till the point she might mold into it. Damn, she'll be even more sore tomorrow-

Her pleasured whimpers switch to gags: the belt is pulled, strangling her windpipe for a few seconds until he relents. A hand grips formidably into her hip, to keep her rooted for his now balls-deep, short and powerful pounds. "Mind that you are not late again. Is that clear?"

Shayla nods, temple tapping a lovely beat onto the wall.

What clicked was this:

Avoiding her, not acknowledging her existence, but swerving on other bitches – as irritated as she was, a small part of her took note that Alexis didn't get that "special business card" or get asked about a presidential suite. The conversation not once veered into risky (risqué) territory like theirs did.

And transforming into this sensual tyrant when they're off the clock…

This was his game.

I'll play along then. As I said, two can play at that game. Your little game Cha Hakyeon…and I bet I can play it better. I already have.

Shayla wasn't proven wrong either. Days passed, moving on to a week. If one didn't know any better, they'd wager he had it out for Ms. Sinclair. There was always that one co-worker someone didn't get along with and it had to be her. Guests pardoned from her more unpleasant qualities, she was career-obsessed, tenacious and catty when things did not go her way. He was the same to an extent, the staff learned that quickly, although he had a more reserved way of expressing so. Either way, it was easy to see how they would bump heads.

Bump uglies.

Oh if they only knew, those Hotel Arộme D'or's spectators.

As was her style, Shayla refused to put thought into this game. There was no point, seeing as every man had his reasons. Whether he was doing this to keep from getting caught violating the "don't date your co-workers" hotel policy, keep his "jungle fever" under wraps, or doing so just for his own exhibitionist delights, it wasn't her concern. All she needed to worry about was if what she could get out of it was interesting enough for her to play.

Hot and cold. Yes and no. Avril Lavigne could have used them for inspiration. In the public eye, she was callous, indifferent, and ignored the shit out of him too unless professional matters had to be handled. But almost every night in presidential Suite 6 at precisely 9pm, they met for the most intense, most erotic sex Shayla had ever had in all 28 years of her life. Each time there was either something new or the good old fashioned Cha Hakyeon Special that just involved a lot of biting, shit-talking and relentless stroking that left her twitching, sore and drained.

And she didn't even want to think about the time he made her bring her bullet in…for himself.

One constant that remained was the candles.

She didn't know what was up with that. The man had not one romantic bone in his body for her.

But again, none of her concern.

What she liked most was the choking fetish they had in common. Once Hakyeon found out she went crazy for it, it sparked a bit of madness in him. He loved to see her gasping, spread eagle for him and racking her nails down his back. The helplessness and raw arousal in her eyes as he pierced her back with his own sharp stare was the pinnacle of any session.

He kept reminding her that she was a goddess, and it fed the narcissist in her very well.

Yet through this game, Shayla still couldn't shake it. That something. It was the same edge he'd used in his voice the first time they fooled around; it slipped out mostly when he was praising her and was happening more frequently. Shayla found herself, even in the midst of their same-shift enmity, side-eyeing him in steep thought. She could forgo giving his a game a second thought to be sure.

But this was new.

This evening, now two weeks in, Shayla bothers her bottom lip as Hakyeon converses with the night's most elite guests. The mayor had just stopped by earlier, won over by Hakyeon's charm almost immediately when the two has been introduced by Hotel Arộme D'or's owner. Not to be outdone, she'd laid it on thick when the mayor mosied over to the counter to greet her. Hakyeon was not the first and surely not the last to realize Shayla was a lovely woman, and this was thus proved by the nasty glares she kept receiving from the mayor's wife after their little pow-wow. In all honesty, it was much too easy – even for her to have been laughing as loudly as she was. She was already acquainted with the mayor and his wife had salty since the dawn of time.

She just has to rub it in that he was in her domain.

And in more ways than one, he was expendable.

She didn't like this "new" addition to his game. The game itself was enough.

So what the fuck was his problem?

Apparently he didn't take too kindly with her act. If the mayor's wife's looks were hazardous, his could shatter civilizations. A well-polished dress shoe tapped the shiny floor incessantly. A hand swept through his hair too many times to count. Disgust for laced his existence full throttle.

He'd never behaved this way towards her. Not to the point where she felt hatred radiating from his body.

Ooh, he'd never given her those kind of goose bump before.

That is why, watching him now, she thinks it is time they retire their tryst.

Easier tasks have been attempted, it is true…

One last time. Then I'll break it to him.

With uncanny timeliness, Hakyeon happens to peer into her direction right at that moment, once he's given a window from the conversation. Shayla stares back guiltily, notices that his expression is progressively darkening, and frowns as she turns her heated face away.

When she goes to look back at him timidly, he's gone.

"Shayla," he says coldly the minute she walks in, and she can't tell if it's a greeting or a statement.

Her shoulders square anyway. "What."

The tall, elegantly made man rises from the vintage English chair he'd been occupying and draws closely to her, the girl struggling not to step back. He usually looks so ethereal in the candlelight and tonight is no different…except the shimmer in his eyes. Once playful, ravenous and discreet, its a bit too bright for Shayla. Too aware.

Hakyeon lifts a hand to caress her face, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. In the same voice, yet somehow softer, he responds, "You were looking exceptionally nice today. I couldn't keep my eyes off you."

She only gazes back in confliction with her blood humming in her ears; his bait is set, and he's ready. Likewise, no word is ever uttered, no movement or signal given by mistake.

Then the shimmer…the way it uncharacteristically switches from malicious to needy, needy to malicious – worse, the times she can't tell what it is.

Better not even chance it. No matter how good he feels.

Ignoring the clench of her thighs, Shayla narrows her tired eyes at him. "I came to end this. I'm sorry."

The hand slips down, his vision snapping back to the reality he doesn't think he's entered. "Why?"

"You're doing too much. Out there." She sighs. "I was cool with it but I've changed my mind."

"You know I can't accept that."

That's it. She shouldn't have even shown up. Ghosting might have been better. Might.

Shayla assesses the harder dip in his brows and swallows nervously. "You'll have to. Now, I'm-

"Did I forget to mention you smell even better today? Like you've been bathing in those black cherries just for me." Hakyeon pulls her to him by her waist, a forceful venture since she resists. The hand cups her cheek again, so solid and heavy and warm. "I can't believe how stunning you are. It seems to manifest day to day."

"I get it, Hakyeon."

"Are you sure? Shall I mention it again?"

" Mr. Cha, I'm very sure."

The formal title seems to strike a nerve, for the fiery conviction is his smoldering stare is subdued some. Shayla is relieved that he's finally getting the message – until his once tender hand lashes down to grasp her wrist in an iron grip. She gasps –its not too painful, not to leave bruises, which is a good sign, that he doesn't use his full strength – but slight panic builds when he pulls her hand to his crotch.

"Feel it, Shayla. Feel all of it," he rasps. " Take it."

Mindlessly she does. Of course, the bulge speaks volumes. It springs dryness in her throat, weakness in her knees. Just from the sheer power of its capability.

"Please," he whispers, dipping his head to her ear, kissing along the shell. " Stay."

"No."

" Don't leave me."

"I will."

" You're so beautiful, Shayla, don't you know?" He's let go of her by this point, yet the spell she's been subjected to hasn't allowed her to let go of his manhood of her own accord. Hakyeon steadily peels off his jacket and loses his tie while he assaults her ear with snippets of praise and confession. Why is her resolve withering so quickly? Was it ever strong to begin with? Mentally – hollowly – she tries to convince herself it was. " You have always been my type. There was no way I'd work here and allow you to bypass me every day without having you. Haven't I been good to you, you queenly woman?"

"Hakyeon, I-

" Have I not been good to you? Have I not fucked you into a stupor? Have I not tasted you and spoiled you and made you cum enough that you never leave this room unsatisfied?" He starts rolling his hips gently into her hold. "This is the least that can be done to honor us both."

"I-I guess…"

" How are you this pretty?" Hakyeon sighs, his edgy voice breaking, and she can't withstand it anymore. Her hand begins to massage and knead him automatically; with that, she is rewarded with a guttural moan right inside her ear. Then he pulls back, grabs her face with both hands and relieves them with a kiss so deep and long, Shayla grabs his shoulders to keep herself upright.

Its all she wrote after that.

"This is what you do to me," Hakyeon growls in their heated kisses. "Fucking driving me crazy."

"Unapologetic," she barely manages to get it out, letting him undress her violently.

"I know you are."

"You're no different. And you keep showing your ass to me like- hey!

He's lifted her up and fallen with her on the bed, cutting her protests off with his mouth. The clothes that are still hanging off their bodies are quickly discarded, the two rolling about on the golden black comforter swallowing each other's swollen lips and grabbing and triggering their favorite spots. It is not long before Hakyeon has entered her fully, hands slamming down on either side of her head as he bows down at her in bared teeth and total concentration. Shayla holds her legs back keenly, opening moaning to his wet pounds as she's prone to do.

He beats into her for some time til the itch claims him; licking his lips, he readjusts himself a little and tales hold of the sides of her neck. Through the jerkiness and sweat seeped into her vision, Shayla sees the corners of his panting mouth lift in euphoria. She imagines she must have done the same.

Their kink commences like normal. Shayla doesn't suspect anything wrong right off. There's no way she would. Bit by bit, Hakyeon squeezes just the right amount and lets go. Squeezes more, slightly tighter, and lets go. With each clench, Shayla is happy to gasp and struggle at his mercy. He slaps up into her more enthusiastically, calling her is usual naughty pet names, taunting her. Giving her life though the very breath in her lungs is wonderfully compromised.

Red flags don't start waving until Hakyeon suddenly has a feral look on his face. "You do this to me. You're always the one showing your ass. I'm fucking sick of it."

If she had air to speak or make more than gagging, moaning noises, she'd cackle at the irony and tell him the feeling was damn mutual.

"I don't understand. Really, how are you so beautiful?" he snarls, now heaving his hips into her – pausing to glance off to the side in pure ecstasy. He squeezes, focusing back on her.

Man I don't understand you either-

"To be this beautiful, have a sense of style, have the fucking world in the palm of your hands, yet can't properly use a brush to hide a hickey." Squeeze. Hakyeon snorts, rolling his eyes at her. "I'm so much better at it. Its not fair."

Ummmmm.

Not only is he supposed to have released at this point, Shayla can't believe what the hell she is hearing. She starts slapping at his forearms to get him to stop, twisting her body left and right angrily.

"You are a pretty bitch though," he says sweetly in contrast to the steel that was there before. Sweetly…bitterly… wistfully. Cocking his head cutely, he continues in an endearing tone: " I'm glad you decided to indulge me." Squeeze.

I can't breathe you fucking idiot! Somebody help!

Tears well in her eyes. By now Shayla is attempting to flail. He's crushing her windpipe and at this rate, she's going to be down and out for good. Those hands. Those same tan, veined, captivating hands would be the ones to seal her fate. She was a real fool.

"Its just so frustrating," the mad, handsome man continues, picking up Shayla's neck and slamming it back into the mattress to emphasize his point. "I can't help who I like."

She lets out a squeaking, strangled noise he doesn't acknowledge.

At least, not in the way she intends.

"I knew you'd get it," are his concluding mutters, "Ah, well not really." He curves down to make out with her, definitely not privy to the color seeping from her skin and her eyes beginning to roll to the back of her head. For all he knew, that's just how good he was giving it to her.

I…have…to…reach…something…about to…pass…

At the peak of desperation, Shayla's wandering hand bumps into something familiar and leather. With the last of her strength she lifts and strikes the thick, metal buckle of it across his temple.

It does enough to snap him out of his reverie and go to clutch his head. That's all she needs. She kicks and pushes him off of her as swiftly and roughly as she can, punching him one good time. There's the rush and hustle of gathering her clothes; she throws them on if just to cover her private parts, all the while trying to catch her breath and trying to tune out his pained moaning over on the bed.

Stumbling out of the suite, Shayla can double over finally to inhale and exhale to her heart's content – literally. One hand braces against the wall as the other cups her neck, where a phantom imprint is still lodged.

After several minutes, she stumbles towards the elevators bare-foot. Hakyeon is still in the suite for only God knew how long…

Pressing the down button, she starts conjuring up a story for the hospital if she decides to go.

What he'd done happened on a Friday.

To her utter surprise, he didn't try to contact her all weekend. Not once. There came a flood of mixed emotions with that, but none so prominent as spite. Shayla went about her two days of freedom with the mindset to distract herself from thinking about him. She was traumatized to be sure, yet why was it that that jackass couldn't at least say something to her? He was going too far if he wanted to pretend that this never happened.

She didn't want to think about the aftermath either. What this meant for her career. She avoided the hospital after all, positive that all she had was a little external bruising and internal soreness, nothing pressing. Surely she couldn't just let him go Scott-free just because she wanted to protect her position. She had to press charges, rat him out to the owner, something.

Most disturbing still, Shayla would hug herself at times and quiver. Or examine herself in the mirror with slight amusement and humiliation:

The mystery of Cha Hakyeon was solved. Now she officially had the right to leave him the hell alone.

By the time Monday rolls around, Shayla can't eat breakfast or calm her anxiety. Only her insulted pride gives her a boost of confidence to apply the right spread, thickness and shade of makeup to her neck.

One of Hotel Arộme D'or's star employees soon click-clacks through the grand revolving doors like an unstoppable force, any "blemishes" or "flaws" shed outside in the sunny San Francisco streets. With how Shayla Sinclair radiantly greets the concierge, doormen, and guests, you'd never suspect that she's terrified beyond all reason – that the day has an unpredictable outcome only she can mold.

She begins her shift with Alexis, the two women discussing their weekends while they check-in, check-out, answer demanding calls and suffer patiently through ridiculous complaints.

Everything is moderately okay until Shayla spots him making his way up to the desk from the east, arms crossed behind his back. There a neat white bandage plastered over his right eye. It stands out greatly in contrast to his midnight suit and gold accents.

Alexis covers her mouth with a small giggle. "People have been talking about it all day, girl."

"I don't doubt it." She finishes jotting down a few tasks for Binny and folds her hands atop the counter. "Looks like we all have to show how human we are sometimes."

Her co-worker peers at her curiously, then she waves her off just as qui hastily, remembering why Shayla would sound so salty. "He'll come around. Or you'll get used to him. Whichever comes first."

Shayla (thankfully) doesn't have a chance to respond, since their boss is right upon them. "Good morning ladies. Were you just talking about me?"

"No sir," Alexis replies formally – unconvincing.

Mr. Cha grins tightly. "I hope it was only good things."

While the other girl blushes, Shayla avoids his eyes. He's striking like always. Sounds and smells and behaves like he isn't worse for wear at all except for that stupid publicity stunt bandage while she's over here about to choke on her own…wait…

Fuming, she hears him speak again. "Alexis, there have been more complaints about our guest in suite 156A. He's Korean like me but I haven't had a chance to conference with him in our native language. Please radio Binny and accompany him to Mr. Jung's room until I arrive."

"Sure." The shorter woman is either oblivious or too psyched to have a chance to stretch her legs to notice Mr. Cha keeping a determined eye on the head receptionist. She bounds off cheerfully without another word.

Once she's completely out of sight, Shayla faces him blandly. She watches as his gaze relaxes to the softest she's ever seen it. His entire being seems to crumble, like he's caving in on himself even though his posture is still magically impeccable.

"Shayla, I am so sorry. I hope you're okay…" He takes in another breath, ready to say more…yet is reduced to folding in his lips and shifting his eyes away.

She crosses her arms under her large bosom. "Why are you sending Binny?"

"Wh- pardon?"

"Why Binny? Is he Korean too?"

Hakyeon stares at her incredulously. "Yes…Shayla, did you hear me just now?"

"You could have killed me, motherfucker," she hisses between her teeth lowly, "And you think 'sorry' even begins to cover it?"

"You didn't let me finish-

"You don't deserve to finish. You deserve to be sitting behind bars….or in a mental asylum."

Hakyeon is silent for several seconds, only able to blink at her. A sigh and closed pair of eyes later, he swipes his hand down his face, talking more to himself. "That's fair…you're right."

"About which one? The big house or the loony bin?"

" Both. But that as it may, please let me continue." Suddenly he appears exasperated; more than that, actually. The further Shayla analyzes him, the more she sees the stubble coming in that he keeps religiously shaved and the tiny bags under his eyes.

She frowns deeper.

"First, you are absolutely right. We should stop this. We are. Not just because I don't want to hurt you again, but it hadn't been right to do this with you from the beginning. I admit, I have a problem…with women like you. I haven't heard of a diagnosis for it yet so I assume I am a unique case but…I, uh…"

Shayla shakes her head. "I think I already know. And yes, that is very strange."

"Yeah…"

"Though still no excuse for losing control like that."

"Right again."

"Guess you can't be screened for a disorder that technically doesn't exist."

When Hakyeon lifts just his eyes back up at her, he spots a wry smile hidden in her heart-shaped lips. He still can't bring himself to return it.

"For one that technically does exist, you can," he confesses sullenly. "I got to skip that part because the owner is my father's good friend. He is well aware though, that I have multiple personality disorder." His index and thumb pads pinch almost completely closed. "A wee touch of it."

"And your story is that the crazy voices in your head told you to kill me." This time she doesn't sound like she's joking.

"No," he replies firmly, boring into her face and balling his fists on the marble. "It was never my intention to…do that to you." Guilt washes over his flushed face. "I wish I could explain it better. I meant it when I said I was frustrated. I was doing alright before I started working here but two selves begin to emerge the moment I met you…"

She could guess what he'd say next. Shayla nods in understanding, still flabbergasted with the situation despite knowing the whole truth. "Mr. Cha-

"You can call me Hakyeon here."

"I prefer not to…" Its his turn to nod, crimson staining his cheeks underneath the bronze even more. "What do you propose happens next? For you?"

"What do you mean?"

"We've agreed to stop seeing each other in private, yet that doesn't change the fact that we work together. You will still see me all the time…will that be good for your health?"

He's able to smile now, albeit half-heartedly. "I should be fine," he says quietly. "I can start seeing my doctor again…and…get rid of that self we both don't like. I feel terrible for treating you like that."

"I appreciate you apologizing and taking the time to explain, Mr. Cha." Shayla says lower than he, her sincerity brimming over. Hakyeon nods a few times, tucking his lips again. "I think its better we don't speak- apart from business matters - for the next few weeks. Just until I can get over this. It also gives you time to get yourself together."

"That can be arranged," he readily agrees.

" I'll miss how you fuck me." Her voice has dipped even lower, so that he barely hears it in the echoing foyer. He does hear it though. Wide-eyed, he allows her to take one of his weakened fists and curl her hand in his. It's so odd how he's only a couple of shades lighter than her…

But apparently, 'odd', when it comes to this girl, is an understatement.

Its only natural that he's okay with that.

Hakyeon compresses her hand back bashfully, a small arch in his brow. "Me too."

At his departure a few minutes later, Shayla is left with many thoughts. The one that stands out has her huffing to herself out loud:

Why is it always the crazy ones with good dick?

Her phone buzzes against her hip.

BossCha: You will always be a beautiful woman to me. So if you catch me staring, don't be surprised. Let's be on our best behavior

I haven't had to be this careful with someone…since he was here.

This will be trying…

Installment II

Leo – "A Chill Pill"

Shayla grumbles to herself as she clicks her way over to the elevators.

First it was him, then Hakyeon and Binny, now this guest – what's up with these Korean men being off their rockers? Well Binny seems pretty normal despite his aloofness and occasional urge to get his hands dirty but that was beside the point. It would be too soon before she met another crazy Korean man.

From what she heard from Alexis, homeboy had checked in a couple of weeks ago in the dead of night and was okay until like a week in. Even with two Korean-speaking employees trying to placate him, he was inconsolable, so what did Hakyeon think she could do about it? Why was he sending her up here when she was better suited downstairs, doing a job that reaped stellar outcomes that this "mission" would never warrant?

Gliding into the next available car with the other people, she recalls Tea-Lexis's words of warning. Be prepared to have something thrown at you if he's in a mood worse than normal. And to walk through a garbage landfill. Housekeeping hasn't been able to get in to clean for forever since he never leaves the room.

Apparently this guy was also loaded and had been living in Japan with his family for a while. Shayla could care less. His fits of rage and outbursts were causing a considerable disturbance with their other distinguished guests. He either had to shape up or ship out.

Shayla sets her jaw upon reaching the designated floor. Maybe there was a reason Hakyeon resorted to sending her; the rest of them had been too soft on him or too fearful.

Bet.

She reaches his suite and begins knocking loudly. "Mr. Jung? Mr. Jung! I'd like to have a word with you please."

No answer.

"Mr. Jung, I am Shayla Sinclair, the head receptionist of Hotel Arộme D'or. If you would be so kind as to open the door, I'd like to speak to you about your continued stay here. It is most urgent!"

Nothing.

She raises her fist to knock a third time, this time harder than the last, when the door suddenly flies open, revealing a tall figure with disheveled blond hair, oversized sweats, no shirt and a dragon's glare. Shayla's nose twitches in confusion; she'd been expecting him to smell gross, but he himself seemed to smell like he'd just gotten out of the shower, while the background, stale stench from the sty Alexis described wafted out along with…was that incense?

Realizing she's probably resembling a squinty old busybody, Shayla gathers herself back together. She straightens up, crosses her arms behind her back and lifts her chin. "Mr, Jung," she says authoritatively.

He gives out a small grunt.

"Mr. Jung, it has come to my attention-

"I was asleep," the man rasps in a thick accent, though Shayla can tell that he is naturally soft-spoken. "What is this about?"

"Sir, I was just getting to that. We've been receiving complaints about a ruckus coming from your suite. If you cannot tone down your ministrations, I'm afraid you will have to reside elsewhere." Her polite intonation hardens just the slightest. "As our staff has come repeatedly to make you aware of this matter, this is your last warning. Are we clear, Mr. Jung?"

Instead of at least a nod or a simple "yes", Shayla is met with a hostile growl and the door slamming in her face. Jumping at the jarring impact, she immediately feels her temper start to bubble and boil, teeth grinding and red beginning to seep into her vision.

However, she remembers in the same breath she's better than that.

All at once the rage simmers down to be replaced with a crafty, vindictive smile. She flips her curls over her shoulder as she strides confidently back to the elevators.

"You're out of your mind, Sinclair."

"I'm not afraid of him," she snaps. "And you shouldn't be either."

"Of him? Maybe. Of getting fired? Yes."

"You don't even get paid to work here, bum."

"Yeah, well, its not about just me," Binny shrugs indignantly, still slumped over the handle to the housekeeping cart. "What about you and the others?"

"By 'others' you mean Janice and Hubert? You know, who I told to radio up for me?"

"Shit."

Shayla sighs. As Binny pulls out his anime-decorated walkie-talkie and alerts the other housekeepers, she stares at the suite number on Mr. Jung's door. "I have to do what's necessary. Harper gave me permission."

"You mean Chashank Redemption was down for this? No way."

"…its still a mouthful Binny. Try again."

"I'm working on it, Sinclair."

"Now there's a funny word for you to use." Yet Shayla is only idly responding to the banter now. She whips out her copy of the suite's key card, on the ready to burst in and set things back in order. Binny notices and rolls his eyes. "They'll be here in 2."

"Great."

When Janice and Hubert arrive, they take one look at the suite number and their lips pull down in thin, grim lines. "You're kidding right?" Hubert asks in a Honduran accent.

"So that's why you didn't want to tell us which room," Janice shoots accusingly at Binny, who smirks and shrugs.

"Please you two, I know no one else would even entertain the idea but you." Shayla locks eyes with them sternly. "Besides, this task comes from high up."

"Yeah r-

"And I promise to keep him out of your hair as you clean. We should be in and out."

She can tell by the looks on their faces that they're weighing reputations. Mr. Jung, the misunderstood beast of the castle or Ms. Sinclair, the wily, unpredictable evil they are already accustomed to.

Well…at least she'd just as easily have their backs as roast them to ashes if the shit hit the fan.

Both most likely coming to the same conclusion, they note Shayla's sickly sweet, coaxing smile. "Worth a try I guess," Hubert mumbles.

"Then here we go."

Ever so quietly she dips the key in the slot. Green light glows as the door unlocks. She pushes it in and holds it open for her "accomplices", urging them to hurry in since they insist on being hesitant.

"Look at this filth. I can't even see the floor." The round, Puerto Rican woman grimaces as she scans the room. She lets out a few soft curses in Spanish, shaking her head.

Binny hums in agreement. "Makes me itch."

Hubert can only scrunch up his nose, the tall, bony man making his way to the kitchenette, crunching on take-out boxes and plastic ware. "I will start here."

"I'm surprised there's no sign of him," Binny whispers conspiringly, sliding up to the receptionist's side. "You know he almost knocked my head off with the ice bucket last time, right?"

"What did you do?"

"I told him my mother knows his mother and ran."

"No, what did you say that got him riled?"

"The guy is perpetually riled, Sinclair, anything sets him off, don't you get that by now? Tell him its 7:30pm and he'll attack you because its not 7:30am. Trust me."

"Alright alright," she chuckles, pushing him away and going to stand by the double doors to the master bedroom.

"Bet you 10 bucks he'll barrel out of there as soon as Janice turns on the vacuum," he mutters, slapping on rubber gloves and bending to pick up the trash.

"You're on."

After that, there's no talking, just the sounds of domestic maintenance, Binny's blaring headphones and occasional retches when he discovers something rotten and greasy. Shayla stands stiffly with her heels together, occupying her time by trying to figure out the flavor of incense hovering in the room. Better yet, why the irate blond was burning incense in the first place. Was he a Buddhist? There was no smoking permitted in the rooms, so what was the hotel's policy on incense, if they had any?

Kinda reminds me of cinnamon.

Binny's quick. In virtually no time, the living area is clear and Janice pauses in her dusting to plug in the vacuum. When the machines roars to life, the room service boy lowers the volume on his iPod and glances in Shayla's direction pointedly as he continues to stuff trash in the giant plastic bag. "Get ready Sinclair," he mouths. He's shot back a stuck out tongue.

Janice and Hector send backward glances toward the bedroom too, theirs full of apprehension. The female housekeeper begins rolling the vacuum over the WhoKnowsWhatChineseDynasty rug as quickly as she can, doing so for a good minute until Shayla groans to herself the next second.

She hates when Binny is right,

The double doors crash open, Shayla barely moving out of the way in time to avoid becoming a permanent part of the shelf behind her. Mr. Jung pads out clad only in a Hotel Arộme D'or robe and a thin, golden chain with a cross.

Okay not Buddhist.

"What the hell are you doing here?" His sharp, baggy eyes skim the room from Janice – the awakening offender-, to Hector, Binny, who has ducked, and finally Shayla, who's to his left, shaken but not stirred. Recognition dawning on his face, he pierces her the most brutally. "You."

"Yes, Mr. Jung, me." She glares back. "Is this too early for you? Because we can always come back. Regardless, we're going to have to be here."

"I did not authorize this," he counters coolly.

"You sure didn't. My boss did."

"Get out," the blond says menacingly, stepping towards her. But just as the other three are about to intervene, Shayla holds up her palm. For some reason, it's enough to balk him. " After they finish cleaning."

"I can do it myself."

"Oh? But you're our honored guest, Mr. Jung! Why do it yourself when our qualified staff are right here for your every need." She bats her lashes at him. "After all, you've sure given us a lot of business. Why not get all of the bang out of your bucks?"

Binny, who's now gotten back up, audibly does a facepalm. Likewise, the tall blond pinches the bridge of his nose in agitation. "I don't care about that. Leave."

Shayla's smile widens even more dangerously. "Well, according to Section E Paragraph 4 , Clause 6, we at Hotel Arộme D'or uphold the right to ensure that all our rooms are up to par with specific regulations. If we deem it necessary to investigate a room because of a safety hazard, we can do so. That means any privacy rights the occupying guest has are temporarily suspended until the issue is clear. Would you like me to retrieve a copy of our handbook for you?

Mr. Jung just scowls down at her.

"Now," the beaming receptionist continues, inching closer and making her voice silkier. "If you are unhappy with this arrangement, I'll be more than happy to direct you to another one of the Bay Area's fabulous hotels. Or, perhaps, a secluded resort located much further way?"

The two reach a stalemate at this point, a stare-off of wills the other three gauge as they clean.

The blond sizes her, narrowing his eyes the hardest he can…till something in her stubborn gaze takes hold of him – that and something that rekindles within himself. His scowl relents significantly.

"As you wish," he grunts, snatching away from her to charge back into the bedroom while collective breaths let out in unison. When the heavy, mahogany doors have been shut tightly, Shayla knocks delicately. "We should be done shortly, Mr. Jung. I'll have Binny send up breakfast for you."

Ignoring the room service boy's silent, vehement "x" signs, she exhales pleasantly, facing them all and dusting off her hands. "That was fairly painless."

"Like watching a pitbull face off a Chihuahua," Hubert laughs a little.

"Aw, come on, tell me you all had a little bit of faith in me."

"You were still out of your mind, Sinclair."

"You did well, Ms. Sinclair," Janice nods genuinely, and Shayla nods back with a mirroring smile.

But as extra precaution, Shayla remains with them as they finish tidying up before returning to her post – she knows Alexis and Mr. Cha are probably getting swamped right now because of the holiday.

Its only when the housekeepers have cleared out and Binny has reluctantly gone to fetch the man's breakfast does Shayla knock on his bedroom door again. "Mr. Jung?"

"Have you finished?" drifts the low grunt.

"Yes."

Silence.

"Mr. Jung?"

"What."

"I have a few more things to say, then I will leave you alone."

To her surprise, he smacks his teeth and calls out, "Come in." Doing as he asked, she slowly opens the door, slips in and closes it quietly. Before her, the blond is upright and shirtless in the huge bed, one lamp on with the blinds drawn. The smell of incense is stronger in here, and there's no trash littered about. She sees his cell phone buzzing and lighting up the comforter next to his hip, yet he doesn't seem to mind it. "What is it?"

She clears her throat, taking on her perfected stance again. "I would just like to say, you've made a wise decision to resume your stay at Hotel Arộme D'or. I appreciate your cooperation this morning."

It might have been her imagination, but she swore it looked like he was expecting her to say something else. Apologize, even.

Whatever it was, his sour-turned expression belays his disappointment. "Is that all?"

"Yes."

She makes to turn, pretends she has an afterthought, then returns to her stance. "Oh, and by the way, Mr. Jung?"

He tilts his teacup to his mouth, overlooking the brim at her.

She arches a brow. "The next time I hear about you assaulting one of my fellow staff, I will see to it security escorts you out of here so fast, you'll make your ancestors dizzy."

On that note, she spins haughtily and slams both bedroom doors and the suite door on her way out, leaving a very dazed, slightly bemused Mr. Jung in her wake. "Bitch," he murmurs in Korean, swallowing his tea.

I want my 10 bucks

Shayla sniffs and returns her phone back to her waist, placing her full attention back on her co-worker. "…weird that he's the same age as Harper."

"Say what now?"

"Was that Binny?"

"Yeah girl. With his hand out again."

Alexis snickers. "Anyway, yeah, when I found out how young he was, I put two and two together." She pushes the pads of her index fingers together. "He's just a spoiled brat. And like I said, I would have never guessed he and our Cha were the same age."

"Well, you see what he's like. I'd be more surprised if you told me grass was green."

"You know what," the shorter receptionist shakes her head, "That's true but I'll disregard that since your saltiness is fresh today. What you got against that man?"

"Same thing he got against me." Shayla purses her painted lips insolently, but on the inside she sighs in exasperation. More than you'd stand to know.

"Pssh."

"Speaking of him, he hasn't mentioned the incident from a few days ago."

"He wouldn't need to. Guess yall got Mr.FeeFiFoFum together. He's been quiet."

"It's suspicious to me."

"Girl bye," Alexis laughs again, answering a call coming through that closes their conversation, yet Shayla still muses on the entire talk.

She doesn't know why she's skeptical about the blond's more "civilized" nature lately – in fact, its more like he's disappeared. Non-existent. This fit into what she and Alexis had been saying earlier about how mysterious he was, and how alluring it could be, along with his handsome looks, if he wasn't a terrorist.

Sensing something from her left, her eyes flit over and of course it's her boss staring at her – with the more distasteful "alter-ego" obviously in control judging from the way he turns his nose up at her immediately. Hope that therapy is going well. Shayla turns away from him quickly with a burn in her cheeks, though all isn't attributed to his ire. How she ached for him even more. This instance was no exception because even though he was flashing his claws, he was looking especially good today. Worse, her period had just started –coincidently, right after taking care of Mr. Jung – so it was no wonder she was feigning more than usual.

It was no wonder she'd been triple harsh on Mr. Jung…

There were no regrets, no. But….

Shayla slowly closes her eyes. I just need to stay away from both of them.

Right as she's about to head over to the courtyard for her break, Hakyeon ambles over with perfect timing.

"Shayla."

"Sir?" she replies tightly, tugging on her jacket, trying her hardest not to glare back at him.

"You are needed in Suite A8."

"I fail to see how I've all of a sudden been at the beck and call of guests." She fluffs her hood, throwing her hair over her shoulders. "Not in my job description last time I checked."

" Excuse me?"

"I've already set him straight, Harper, what did he do now?"

He just rolls his eyes at her dismissively. "You are to see to him after your break. That is all."

"Look-

"I will not argue with you. And unless you want your break miraculously switched to a later time, I suggest you end this here."

"You can't do that," she grumbles, but the beautiful monster is already striding away, leaving her loins flip-flopping from his assertiveness and her nerves going haywire from detest.

Oooooooo.

Shayla viciously loops her purse strap over her shoulders and thunders out from behind the desk.

The break gives her a substantial amount of time to contemplate actually going. By the time it is over, she's already found herself on the elevator, stabbing the button to the floor where Mr. Jung resides. Cursing under her breath, she drags herself out the moment the car dings and the doors open.

He's only "summoning" me up here just to get even. I just know it.

She uses the sun shaped, gold-embossed knocker this time to rap at the door.

That damn Hakyeon just knows how to take advantage of a situation. Can't that side of him be hypnotized away or something? Before I stomp his ass out-

"Good evening Mr. Jung, " Shayla says as cheerfully as she can muster. "You asked for me?"

He nods, pulling the door open wider for her to pass. "I didn't think you would come."

She pauses in going past him, gazing up at him quizzically. "Thank you," he continues in a softer tone that she didn't think could get any lighter. She smiles uncertainly.

"You're…welcome."

"Please come in."

"Oh, right."

Treading in, the difference in the suite from the last time she'd been in it was staggering: No garbage strewn nor the icky stench that came with it, everything spotless and even the delicious vestiges of a home cooked meal permeating the air, along with the ever lingering, overpowering aroma of cinnamon incense.

Yet the biggest difference lies in its inhabitant.

In this state, Shayla can see he's much more reserved, awkward to a point. She'd have to stick around longer to determine if it was endearing or not – however, she wasn't planning on doing such a thing, so the thought is vapored away.

"You can take off your jacket." He sits on the sofa, beckoning her over. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Um, well." She relieves herself of it and hangs it on the coat rack, joining him but sitting in the chair across from him. "Not too comfortable. I still have to get back to my shift soon."

"I know."

She resists the urge to start fanning herself, just now realizing how…humid it is in the room. It would explain why he is once again shirtless – though less explains why, knowing she was coming, he would choose to be shirtless. "Mr. Jung, are you having issues with your central air? I can-

"No need. I like it like this."

Hips shift uncomfortably in the velvet armchair. Her hands fold in her lap, sweat beading in the webs her fingers.

Why is he just staring? Lawd help me.

When she's had enough of his intimidating, invasive eyes and the ticking of the grandfather clock, Shayla clears her throat, smiling thinly. "Mr. Jung, I'm afraid I must leave if you do not need my assistance." Knew this would be some kind of cheap payback.

Yet instead of the prolonged, petty stall she thinks he will continue, the tall blond only wrings his hangs in earnest, peering at her like he's up for surrender. "I wanted to thank you," he says quietly.

Noticing her baffled expression, he clarifies: "Not for coming. For…for…" Finally he glances away in embarrassment. Shayla assumes it's a matter of a language barrier, but when he doesn't prompt for her help in translating, she remains in silent suspense. "Anyway…I wanted to invite you."

"Invite me?"

"To come here. After your shift…if you can."

Man, this was not happening. This guy has probably never had a woman reject him all his life, and now he so typically wants a taste of the one who stands up to his ugly princely complex. Daring carefree lady puts heartless young man in his place and he develops some wacky form of Stockholm syndrome – oh it's enough to leave a very bad taste in her mouth.

Then, as she's about to tell him 'no' in the most venomous way possible and leave, Shayla happens to catch it:

The frail, lost look on his downcast face.

"It's not what you think," he utters feebly. "Promise."

Warning bells sounds off in her head, louder than the ones from when she had, just seconds ago, been livid he was trying to puppy pout his way into her pants.

Wait, he was still doing that.

Shayla should still be fixing her mouth to give him that hard "no".

"Fine," she blurts out a little more tartly than necessary, and stands. The blond's head shoots up to follow her brisk bee-line toward the door. "Thanks?"

"Mhm."

Remarkable. And its only when the door has clicked shut behind her does she surmise that she had agreed to come only because she couldn't live with herself if she'd let down such a pathetic-looking soul; it would be the same as walking past a bunny in a bear trap.

A few hours later, when she returns, Shayla can take a wild guess as to why the man is so touchy all the time.

After declining refreshments, a now band shirt-wearing Mr. Jung sat her down in the living area again to basically play therapist. Why he'd chosen her for this was still up for questioning, and maybe she'd be better off leaving it alone since he kinda made it a statement that he preferred being a twelve-sided Rubix cube.

Also, that his tea was exclusive stuff and she'd have hell to pay for if she blabbed.

Anyway, the consensus was this:

1. He was bi-sexual.

2. He had flown to San Fran to meet his gay lover, whom he'd only had contact with over phone and internet.

3. Number 1 was disapproved by his conservative parents while Number 2 had them blowing up his phone, demanding he tell them his whereabouts.

4. Parents have no idea about the juicer bit of Number 2. If they find out, he's pretty much disowned

5. Lover stood him up.

"I'm sorry Mr. Jung," Shayla offers, "Though I have to say…I'm surprised they didn't already cut you off for being bi."

"They would have," he folds his hands on his chest, having lain down on the sofa, staring into the ceiling. "But there's still a chance I'll end up with a woman, so there you go."

"What if she isn't Asian?"

From the way his skin bunches up around his nose, she may as well have not even asked. "Uh- huh," she comprehends.

"My name is Taek-woon, but I go by Leo."

She chuckles. "Because Mr. Jung is your father?" At his abrupt nod, she asks: "Is that your sign?"

"No. I think its Scorpio."

Well that explains a lot. Shayla fake-coughs to keep from word vomiting, sighing at the end of it. "I thought my situation sucked." When he side eyes her in hidden curiosity, rather than elaborating, she fixes him with an empathetic frown. "It never feels good to be ghosted."

"Ghosted?"

"Stood up."

Now he frowns. "Why would someone 'ghost' you?"

Face heating, Shayla snorts delicately. "Can't you tell? I'm a joy to be around."

"I'm serious," Leo deadpans, turning to face her fully, and it's like the events prior where he'd interacted with her had never even happened. Not even the parts where he's pour acid down her throat. She blinks. "Then I would have to ask you the same thing."

His face colors. He's speechless. "Why does anyone get ghosted? Attractive or ugly, no one is immune to it in this world. That guy is just an insecure, inconsiderate prick from what you tell me." The receptionist crosses her arms. "Bottom line."

Silence.

"I can tell you love him."

Leo sags with a pained expression. "Because I came all the way here?"

"Yes, but I feel coming here was more a form of rebellion." Shayla softens her voice. "It's because of how upset you've been."

"As opposed to…?"

She smiles. "Keeping up the front won't work on me anymore, Leo." Yet it looks to her as if he wants to agree and can't. He sits up and hugs his knees, mumbling into them, "I know who I am. But it's hard to show it when I'm so angry all the time…"

"When it's the people you love who make you like that."

"Yeah."

"You've shown it to me," Shayla naturally smiles again, causing him to finally return a portion of its brilliance. "Yeah."

Oh my God, he's 5

Forcing down any potential, maternal squealing, the receptionist changes the subject to what has mystified her ever since she's met him, sweeping a determined gaze here and there throughout the suite. "So what's up with the incense? Where do you keep it?"

For some reason, he appears sheepish at that. "In the bathroom. It's to calm me down. It has always had that effect on me, from when I used to go to the temple to pray with my family." At her confused squint, Leo lifts up the golden cross hanging from his chain and responds bitterly. "Yes. Another reason why I'm on thin ice."

"Now I don't know if you're just doing all of this on purpose."

She hears him laugh for the first time, deciding she wouldn't mind hearing the boyish chortle more often. "Oh the things rich people do when they're too rich," she sniffs, and his laughter lengthens.

"You have no idea." Once the thought is in the air, though, Leo's features falter slightly. "Maybe that's what intimidated him…"

"What's his name?"

He digs his phone out of his jean pocket, scrolls some, and tosses it to her. "Sunggyu."

As she studies the picture of the grinning, fox-eyed man, Shayla is overcome with a cold sensation. Something akin to wanting to murder. Wordlessly she hands him back the phone, privy to his anticipating stare despite this this guy he wants feedback for is the reason why he's heartbroken now. Most of the reason. "You look better than him."

Thankfully, he gets the message right away, quickly stuffing the phone back in his pocket and nodding. "I'll be alright."

"As a fellow Scorpio, I have to agree." Eyes perk up to her, rounded a little. "Still, you're gonna be mad as hell for the time being. That can't be helped." Synchronously, Shayla's wandering eye has landed on the statue head sitting on a pillar in the middle of the small foyer. Judging from the iconic, Grecian helmet, short curls and fierce look, she assumes it can only be Mr. Poetry in Motion himself: Achilles. The demi-god practically dominated the Iliad with his dramatic tantrums, and Shayla vaguely remembers thinking, when they had to go over the epic in the 9th grade, that she couldn't believe ol boy's misplaced hissy fits were written out so eloquently – when clearly, he needed professional help.

She rolls her eyes.

I wonder if Leo knows who that is.

"Cha Manager said it was okay to light them," the man in question speaks up somewhat apprehensively, "if you didn't know…"

She waves him off. "You're good. I was just curious – wait, what did you just call him?"

"Cha Manager. Isn't that who he is to you?"

"Yes but…is that the Korean way to say his name?"

He frowns. "How else would I say it?" Leo is further left in the dark when she starts giggling uncontrollably, and it proves to be contagious. After a joke about therapist fees, Shayla inquires if there was something of interest he wanted to do and upon his less than enthusiastic answer of 'nope', she rules out any activities that concern leaving the suite. Yet she's not going to give up on "curing" his 'mopines' while she's there. There has to be something she can do for him, to distract him from his problems aside from her mere presence – which he insists is enough, along with talking, but the obstinate receptionist isn't having it. "I've got it," she says optimistically, getting to her feet.

He'll never get used to her left-field pop ups. "Got what?"

"I'll run you a nice bath. While you're in it, I'll whip up something for us in the kitchen and bring it in so we can continue chatting."

His entire face becomes scarlet instantly. "You want to…?"

"Ho ho, you wish. More like pull your desk bench up to the tub." He's about to open his mouth to raise concern about something else when she's off already, heading through the master bedroom doors. About five minutes later, with the tell-tale roar of water rushing into the Jacuzzi-sized basin, Shayla glides out and jerks her thumb behind her. "Get ready to get in. Shouldn't take me long."

Balled lips and a submissive shrug are her only reply as he gets up to pad into the room. Inside he undresses, never-minding that he'd actually took his time to piece together an outfit – something he hadn't done in over two weeks – since she was stopping by. He'd stopping doing things like that when he'd faced the reality that Sunggyu really wasn't going to show up. The suite just…began to envelope him and his misery.

A lone tear drops into the frothy, turquoise water that slowly fills the tub, Leo absentmindedly swishing his hand in it as he sits on the edge. The way the suds mix, muddle and swirl in disarray mimic his feelings. He won't ever forgive that punk for leaving him high and dry. Knowing his situation. Carrying with him his deepest, darkest secrets and quirkiest dreams.

On the other hand, this strange woman might be on to something. Baths are soothing. Especially when the extra mile is taken and petals and exotic oils are added into the equation.

He'd come to the conclusion quicker than most that Shayla Sinclair was the epitome of 'extra'.

By the time the receptionist sashays her way back into the bathroom, the blond is immersed in the water, bubbles up to his chin. She has her hair up, sleeves up, and two glasses of red wine in her hands. "Adorable."

"Don't."

Cackling, she hands him both glasses, leaves and comes back dragging in the desk bench with one hand while the other holds a plate piled with grapes. She settles down on it the closest she can get to the tub and relieves him of one of the glasses. "Now isn't this refreshing."

"If you say so."

"I'll probably go home to soak too," she says, ignoring him. She indicates towards the fruit and wine. "Old grapes and new grapes. Not my best assortment, but it will have to do." One of the fattest, dark-red spheres is plucked and placed to his lips. "Here. Room service at its finest."

He takes it with his polished teeth, never dropping eye contact. As he chews, he laughs at her stunned expression on the inside. "And by the way," she adds less animatedly, the effect of her chipper play dampened with his intensity. "I made sure you didn't have to worry about being nude in front of me. The bubbles hide you well."

"Thank you for upholding my modesty. That was very Korean of you."

"Any time, sir." She inclines and bobs her head, to which he shakes his. "Where did you learn that?"

"I work with plenty of Asian people. It grows on you."

"Hm." Leo relaxes back in the tub, closing his eyes and taking a sip of the wine. Another grape nudges at his lips, so he accepts it. "Keep this up, I might bring you home instead."

"Pssh. Vouch to get me a raise and I'd appreciate that more."

He smiles lightly as he chews, subtly inhaling the fragrances of whatever oils she'd dumped into his bath. There were an array of the oils displayed on the innermost edges of the tub that he hadn't been interested in. Now, whatever this concoction was, it rivaled his beloved cinnamon incense. It nurtured the calamity within.

Likewise, it stirred him in an entirely different way…the more he looked at her.

He keeps his eyes hooded as he maps her out. Shapely, milk chocolate legs begged to him, crossed on the bench to tease him for what lie between them. Her breasts heaved underneath her casually unbuttoned blouse – just enough to see the shadowed line of her cleavage. The way her hips and thighs spread on the cushioned seat, stretching out that short, black skirt interested him more than he cared to admit. And the faint sheen of sweat covering her body from the humidity…

"Let me," he rasps before he knows it, holding his hand out for the grape Shayla is about to feed herself. Shock stills her, then she smiles warmly. "Okay." She holds out the cold fruit to him and leans down, trying not to giggle.

"Close your eyes."

She does. "Open up," he commands, and doesn't fail to notice the small shake of her shoulders – that was definitely a shiver. Leo smirks to himself, carefully watching the grape disappear into her still red-painted mouth. Part of one of those irresistible-looking, fleshy lips grazes his finger and his eyes alight with bewitchment. It's so soft.

Imagining a kiss would undo him; attempting one could be lethal.

"Somehow it tastes better now," she teases, pulling back, savoring the sweetness and washing it down with more wine. From the glazed look in her eye, Leo can tell more than the steamy bathroom is loosening her up. He doesn't know what he looks like to her but he sure hoped it wouldn't scare her away.

All of a sudden, he needed her. She wasn't allowed to leave him tonight.

He bites back his bottom lip at her, grateful, wholly grateful that the bubbles shield his body. But they wouldn't for long. "So you want to soak away the long day."

"Mhm," Shayla lazily rotates her glass, the burgundy liquid whirl-pooling rhythmically, "That and to help with cramps. They're a bitch today."

"By cramps you mean…"

"Yeah. Red tide."

"I can work with that," he says straight-faced.

A grape halts at her open mouth; Shayla furrows her brows. "What?"

"I know what can help." Leo leisurely sips his wine, watching her watch him. He has her full attention now, if only leaving room to sway it to his advantage. From her careful vigil, she's probably aware of it too. "I know how to make it better, Ms. Shayla."

Something deep, innate and numbing ripples through her. Like a stomach ache that grins. "I do too," she all but stammers, piercing him even more emphatically. "That's why I will take a bath when I get home."

"You can take one here. There's enough room." There. Plain as paper.

"Boy please," she titters, talking more to herself. "I'm not gonna entertain that."

"Do you think I'm in the mood to joke?"

"You must be."

"No."

The flustered receptionist pulls out the only valuable ammo she has before she has to leave his suite tipsy, half-turned on and subject to social media fame by some of the younger staff who worked the lobby at night. Trying to harden her tone, she points at him. To one of him. "You're in love with him, Leo."

She's left blinking rapidly when he snatches the plate from her and skids it on top of the toilet. "Undress," he growls. "The water will get cold." He steals the glass from her weak grasp and sets it in the corner behind him.

Shayla studies him closely…and on a whim she knows she will be chewing herself out for tomorrow, she stands and strips down, feeling him eat in her every move.

Promise my ass.

He lets out an impatient exhale as she steadily climbs into the tub, widening his legs underneath the white froth. Shayla palms the tile in the quiet. "Still pretty hot," she whispers down at the water."

"Come here."

She peers at him woozily.

He sounds just like… him.

The water sloshes gently at her careful movements; when she bends, becoming waist deep in the perfumed liquid, Shayla sighs, "Does feel good."

He doesn't bother saying he told her so. Play time was over. " All the way in my lap, woman."

"Yes sir," she sasses, but complies, planting herself on top of his muscular thighs with the stone-faced blond helping her slide back so she doesn't crush his 'dilemma'. "You should be comfortable."

"I am."

"You should see yourself," Leo grinds out, running a finger down the line of her neck to the curve of a breast, eliciting tiny jolts along the way. The pad of that finger starts making circles into her nipple. "Are they sore?"

"Y-yeah." A hypnotic stare pins him, brown arms going to embrace him by his alabaster neck.

He never knew stray hair could be so enticing. It was sexy, the slicked-down baby hair layering the full circumference of her head. It curled at the ends in the back, testing his nerves. "I can work with that too."

"Leo," she interrupts in a whisper, cupping one of his cheeks. "Using me won't change things in the morning. You know that, right?"

His wide splayed hands whisk down her sides, to generous hips he packs into his hold, kneading her roundness. "Won't know until I try." He licks his lips. "And you're wrong. I'm allowing you to use me too."

"How."

She finds out exactly that moments later, struggling to lower herself on him and moaning out from the pleasurable yet painful effort. "Fuck. Fuck." Nails scraps the tile lightly as she attempts to grip the wall. With the tip barely pushed past her folds, Shayla already feels like this is going to be an extremely long night. The man beneath her urges her on in low, thick mutters; feathery fingertips run up and down her back to ease her while the other hand and arm pulses with tendon and muscle to keep her balanced. His mouth busies itself nipping, smacking and pulling at her nipples.

"What's wrong baby," Leo asks huskily, and she's thankful he's genuine, not under the pretense to boost his ego because he's 'so big'. She swallows the lump in her throat, lashes lowering.

"I kinda…I get tighter when it's on," she breathes.

" Take your time." The simple order seems to affect them both severely; the panting receptionist sinks lower from flared arousal, the hotel's affluent guest pushing her down at the same time. "Mmmmm Leo. Oh God, wait."

He doesn't mind at all. The delicious torture is right up his alley. He can enjoy tasting her like this as long as she will permit.

Its she who grows weary of her own body. Hands slipping down to entangle in his hair, Shayla lets out a prolonged whimper as she completely sheaths him, all the way to his course, dark curls hidden beneath the now faintly pink water. Neither notice. Nor would they care. The two waste no time claiming each other's mouths ravenously, Shayla's lower half bouncing and rolling on his dick erratically. Its not her first time sexing on the crimson wave, yet its never felt this good. She'd never been this efficiently seduced enough to enjoy it like she does now. She's so full, but its in a different way from Hakyeon and…him. Her body's extra "narrowness" in this condition, the unsuspecting build up…this was new. This was invigorating.

There's nothing but his soft grunts, her moans and the violent splashing of the water as she pounds herself up and down his shaft in tandem to his upward thrusts. He's all villainous gazes and roaming hands – hands that eventually land on her shoulders, massaging them to their grinding rhythm. It's only a fuck yet it's borderline sacred, and Shayla has to wonder if he fucks men this passionately as well. Perhaps, does he get fucked so passionately?

It's not not visionary, to picture the pretty prince splayed on his back, red rashes on his chest, swollen lips parted in those partially feminine cries that don't emasculate him at all.

Thinking about who's claiming him pushes her over the edge; she shoves herself down and clamps hard, orgasm pulsing through her mercilessly. Leo immediately wraps his larger arms around her back, letting her euphoric whines muffle into his bulky shoulder. "Let it all out," he pleads gently, "Let it all go."

Is that for you too, Leo? Don't you want to let go as well?

Don't you want to be happy again?

She'd saw him stroking the blond, but now she thinks of Leo and the fox-eyed boy, Sunggyu. Both had those eyes, the kind that peel back the rinds of one's soul if left to regard one longer than a few seconds. Her dislike for the boy aside, Shayla could easily see how something as potent as love could have sprung up from their clashing existences. That kind of love-making would be explosive. More than what she's feeling, as great as it is.

"Are you alright, Ms. Shayla?" he implores in that deceptively paternal way of his, rubbing her trembling, brown form – giving her the comfort he should be receiving from her, tenfold.

"You have to let go too," she croaks.

He pushes her back tenderly, and once again, she gets the impression he's disappointed in her countering presence: He'd thought he heard tears. In place of them, there's a drive. Desire brimming over, pent-up needs that have to be satiated. Leo hovers in for a long, heated kiss. "We still have the rest of the night," he rasps in her mouth, thumb caressing her jaw where he's grasped her. "You're not done with me."

I'm so glad its Friday.

_

Shayla, girl, you never learn.

In the morning Shayla had woken up stark naked atop his sheets, the blond banging around in the kitchenette humming like he'd just won the lottery. The soft smile that had grazed her lips begun to shrink, though, when she'd adorned a robe, walked out to greet him, and was met with a distant, cold attitude – one that he tried to cover up with politeness, no less. That's the part that sucked the most.

It was almost like meeting him for the first time again, and she tried not to read anything symbolic in the pitter patters of her blood on his pristine, white sheets.

True to her nature, Shayla opted to lay her own feelings aside and focus on another's. Somehow she managed to convince Leo that he'd been at the hotel waiting (defying) long enough; he needed to go back to Japan, for the sake of his own peace and to assuage his parents.

Now, a day or two later after he has checked out, Shayla can't help but feel her suspicions get sparked again.

Zoning in and out of her idle gossip with Alexis, she squints in thought at the fountain across from them. In hindsight, it had been too easy to convince him to leave the Sunggyu business behind. In fact, there's a margarita of regret and stupidity shaking around in her gut for the nonsense she had recited in her head about Leo and fox-face being ordained soulmates – it had been spawning ever since he left.

Her frustration heightens on impulse, the most it ever has. What if…what if that guy was just some wealthy, hopeless romantic ho? He'd sure have the looks, time and resources for it! What if his philosophy was some shit like ' one bed warmer helps one get over another'? She wouldn't doubt it! Bi-sexual? Oh please – who's to say he wasn't some fluid-sexual opportunist used to notching his belt with "trinkets" he spontaneously wants? That would be just like a silver-spoon sucking brat!

Really…was she a pawn in another ridiculous, Korean man manipulation game?

The pen in her hand is nearly snapped in two.

You never fucking learn

But what begged the question the most was just how real or not his plight was –was any of it real?

Too bad she will never know.

" Girl," Alexis titters, using the stapler to pretend to hit her co-worker upside the head, and effectively pulls Shayla out her juicy, incredulous thoughts.

"Lex."

"Whats up."

"You checked out Mr. Jung right?"

"Uhhhhh yeah…I told you what happened. Boy flew out of here like his ass was on fire."

"Enigmatic bastard."

Alexis studies the other receptionist with an unreadable expression, finally settling on a look that's gratefully not prying. "You need help."

"I think you should be thanking him though," Shayla says in a playful tone to flip the script. "Harper made you and Binny harass Mr. Jung together quite a few times. I seen the way you been eyeing him, slick ass."

"I'll really staple your lips, you better stop." Yet the shorter woman was finding it hard to contain a smirk. "Find you some business."

"Don't do it. Them Korean niggas on one outchea."

"Shut up," she full out laughs. "Ain't nobody looking at his goofy ass."

They joke and giggle until more guests arrive, and its at one point Alexis clears her throat obnoxiously. "You know, Jung's mean ass should remind you of someone."

"God, who?"

She rolls her eyes humorously. "I guess you can't see it."

But Shayla returns her smirk knowingly.