Lorimar

Min Yoongi: International phenomenon, member of the most famous boy band in the world......... but kidnapper???

Mackenzie Santana: Wife of ‘Mr Music’ Shaun Santana, owner of the UK’s largest and best music label.

Their first face to face meeting may not have been conventional, but was it fated?! 

“I’m just about to scream when a huge calloused hand covers my mouth, thumb and forefinger squeezing my nose closed. I’m going to die!!! I know it. I can’t breathe. Tears prick my eyes as I reach a level of panic I have never felt in my whole life! I feel myself becoming lightheaded, the images around me becoming less focused and blurry, I feel a sharp sting in my neck..........then darkness takes me”

Mrs Music

I am sitting on the bed in my hotel room, the TV playing something I don't understand, not that it matters, I just wanted to hear the sounds of voices. I feel very alone.


I wonder if Yoongi has noticed I have left yet? I should send him a message, but what do I say? 'Thanks for everything, see ya!?'


I pick up my phone from the bedside table and notice that it has died... great! That decision is made for me then. Nothing I can do until I can charge it, which will be on the plane at the earliest!


I feel terrible for just leaving. I hope he can find it in his heart to forgive me. I am after all leaving so I do not cause him anymore pain and hurt. I hope he sees that. 


I feel a lump begin to grow in my throat, my eyes sting, images of his beautiful face torment me. I hope he isn't too angry. Maybe he will even be grateful I am no longer his concern.


Tears spill from my eyes, my body convulses as I sob, my nose begins to run uncontrollably. I stagger to the bathroom and roll off some toilet paper to blow my nose. I wash my face with cold water and return to the bed with the entire toilet roll, continuing to cry, wiping my eyes and nose frequently, balls of used tissue all over the duvet. Classy I think, beginning to collect them up as a knock on the door startles me. My heart begins to beat rapidly. Who is knocking? Nobody knows I am here. Must be a mistake. 


I look through the peephole and see a member of the hotel staff on the other side of the door.


"Mrs Santana, the police have sent a Dr to check you are fit to fly. Could you please allow him access to your room" the young man requests.


Really? I don't want to see anyone, but if I need a Drs clearance to fly then I must let him in.


I unlatch the bolt and open the door, laying my eyes on the 'Dr'


"Hello Mrs Santana, I'm Dr Min. Please let me inside!"


I step back from the door, shock on my face I'm sure. I am acutely aware of the state I must look, messy hair, red puffy eyes and snot running from my nose! I have a handful of dirty tissues, dirty clothes and am covered in bruises and scratches.


Yoongi enters the room with a Curt nod at the hotel staff member and closes the door behind him and locks it. He is dressed in a white coat and has a briefcase in his hand. He is wearing some black rimmed glasses too. 


He looks FIT. AS. FUCK..... but as angry as Lucifer in a mile long queue for his favourite theme park ride!!


He removes the glasses and throws them on the side table, put the briefcase down and begins removing the coat. He does not utter a word and does not take his eyes from my face.


I feel nervous, not scared, and subconsciously step back into the room further. 


He doesn't stop at the coat though. He loosens the knot on his tie, and slips it off over his head, and begins unbuttoning his shirt.


I let out an involuntary gasp, raise my hand to the base of my throat, and swallow deeply.


My brain is desperately trying to put together a rational, coherent sentence to explain to him why I left without telling him. It fails.


I have never been entirely flummoxed in this way in my life. Infact, I have always prided myself on my ability to come up with the right thing to say in any given situation. I open and close my mouth silently like a fish out of water gasping for air. That is how I feel too. I'm sure the air is being vacuumed from the room, I'm struggling to get a full breath. Possibly partly due to my broken rib, but mainly I feel it's because this incredibly sexy man is continuing to strip infront of me!


Now wearing only his trousers he approaches me, and I am utterly immobile, my feet have taken root into the carpet. I cannot take my eyes from his smooth chest, skin pale as moonlight. My gaze travels downward as he begins to unbutton his flies. 


As angry as Lucifer!