Unwilling Bride (Married to the Underworld CEO)

Author: [writers hub]

The grand ballroom of the Shilla Hotel was a dazzling spectacle of Seoul's elite. Crystal chandeliers dripped light onto polished marble floors, reflecting the shimmer of designer gowns and bespoke suits. The air hummed with the low thrum of classical music and the murmur of polite, predatory conversation. This was Ragnar Botermet's true stage, a world far removed from the dusty corners of her design studio.

Zara clung to Ragnar's arm, her smile fixed, a practiced ornament. He was a master of commanding a room without uttering a single word. As they moved through the crowd, heads turned, whispers followed. The "whirlwind romance" narrative had clearly done its job. She felt countless eyes assessing her, dissecting her, trying to find the cracks in her polished facade.

Then, she saw her. Mina Song, radiant in an emerald green gown that seemed to absorb all the light in the room, stood by a cluster of powerful-looking men. She moved with an effortless grace that spoke of generations of privilege. Her eyes, cool and assessing, met Zara's across the room, and a faint, knowing smirk touched her lips. She hadn't forgotten their earlier confrontation.

Ragnar paused, sensing Zara's slight stiffening. His gaze followed hers, landing on Mina. His expression remained unreadable, but a subtle tension entered his posture.

"Smile, Zara," he murmured, his voice low, for her ears only. "And act like you belong here. Because tonight, you do." His grip on her arm tightened almost imperceptibly, a silent warning and, perhaps, a strange form of reassurance.

They were immediately engulfed by a group of influential figures – a stern-faced politician, a banking magnate, and an older woman draped in diamonds who seemed to judge Zara's every breath. Ragnar introduced Zara as "my wife, Zara Jones," his tone devoid of warmth but imbued with undeniable authority. Each person offered polite, if probing, congratulations. Zara played her part, offering demure smiles and rehearsed pleasantries, all while her mind, sharpened by Ragnar's "curriculum," frantically absorbed details. She noted the subtle power dynamics, the hidden alliances, the unspoken threats in their carefully chosen words.

Her eyes scanned the room, unconsciously searching for any sign of "Bondi" or "Kim Min-Jun" – the names that now haunted her. She saw no obvious sign of them, but the sheer number of powerful faces made her realize how intricate and vast Ragnar's network, and by extension, his battleground, truly was.

Suddenly, Mina Song glided towards them, her smile dazzling, completely natural. "Ragnar, darling," she purred, her voice a melodic embrace as she pressed a light kiss to his cheek. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me." Her eyes, however, were fixed on Zara, a challenge in their depths.

Ragnar offered a brief, polite smile in return. "Mina. You look well." His tone was formal, cool, almost dismissive. It offered Zara a tiny, almost imperceptible flicker of satisfaction.

"And Zara," Mina continued, turning her full, predatory attention to Zara. "It's lovely to see you again. My condolences on your… sudden change of career direction." The insinuation was clear: Zara was now just Ragnar's plaything, her design career over. Mina's smile widened. "I was just telling Chairman Lee here," she gestured to an older man with shrewd eyes, "how quickly you've adapted to the demands of Chairman Botermet's lifestyle. It's truly remarkable, given your… humble beginnings."

The veiled insult, delivered with such charming sweetness, was designed to needle Zara, to expose her as an outsider. Zara felt a flush rise to her cheeks, but she quickly quelled it, remembering Ragnar's words: act like you belong.

Before Zara could formulate a response, Ragnar's hand, which had been resting on her lower back, subtly tightened. He stepped slightly forward, subtly placing himself between Zara and Mina, not aggressively, but with an undeniable protective gesture.

"Mina," Ragnar said, his voice dropping, a warning in its low tone. "Zara's talent is evident in every aspect of her life. Her adaptability is a testament to her strength. Something many people, yourself included, often underestimate." His gaze, sharp and piercing, met Mina's, a clear boundary drawn. "Perhaps we should discuss the details of our upcoming charity gala later. Now, if you'll excuse us, my wife and I have other guests to greet."

He turned, pulling Zara gently but firmly away, leaving Mina Song standing, her perfect smile momentarily faltering. Zara stole a glance back. Mina's eyes were blazing with furious resentment. Ragnar had publicly, subtly, chosen Zara over her.

A strange warmth spread through Zara, a tiny spark of something akin to vindication. He had defended her. Not out of love, but out of possessiveness, out of a need to maintain his image, perhaps even to assert his control over both women. Still, it was a defense.

As they moved deeper into the crowd, Zara's senses sharpened. She noticed a group of younger men, impeccably dressed, their eyes too sharp, too observant for mere socialites. Their gazes seemed to follow Ragnar, and Zara felt a familiar prickle of unease. They weren't just guests; they were watchers. And one of them, a man with a cold, almost predatory smirk, held a conversation with a subtle, dismissive gesture towards Ragnar's back. It was Lee Jae-Hyun, Bondi, in the flesh. And he was clearly observing Ragnar's every move, even his interaction with her.

Suddenly, a discreet vibration emanated from Ragnar's cufflink. He glanced at it, his expression unreadable. He squeezed Zara's arm once, a quick, almost imperceptible command. "Excuse me for a moment, Zara. Stay close. Do not wander." He then turned and, with a curt nod to a bodyguard, disappeared into a less crowded alcove, his hand raising the cufflink to his ear.

Zara felt a surge of unease. Ragnar had left her alone, even for a moment, in this room full of sharks, with Bondi lurking. She glanced towards the alcove, but Ragnar was already deep in hushed conversation, his face grim. She was exposed, and the game, she knew, was far from over.

The night was long, and Zara, the reluctant queen, was just beginning to realize how many eyes were truly watching her every move.