#rmxreader

[d-noona]

BARTERED BRIDE

Chapter 3: Kim Namjoon

Kim Namjoon is a ruthless financier used to buying and selling stocks, shares and priceless artifacts. But now Namjoon has his eye on a very different acquisition - Park Han Byeol. Left destitute by her father’s recent death, Han Byeol walks into Namjoon’s bank looking to extend her overdraft. As Han Byeol needs money and Namjoon needs a wife, he proposes the perfect deal: he’ll rescue her financially if she agrees to marry him. But in this marriage of convenience can Han Byeol ever be anything more than just a bartered bride?  

Since Yoongi's wedding, Han Byeol had a lot of sleepless nights, prowling around in the small hours, tortured by thoughts of Yoongi making babies with Choon Hee...babies which should've been hers. All she ever wanted was to be Yoongi's wife and the mother of his children. Not the kind of ambition applauded by the teachers at the expensive boarding school where as she and her sister had been sent to learn to be "ladies". That had been Gran's idea. Though Gran's own origins were humble, she was a tremendous snob and hadn't approved of her eighteen-year-old Niaowie marrying a rough diamond like Park Jimin, even if he had gone on to make pots of money.

Gran wanted to see her granddaughters marrying men who were not only well off but also what she called well-spoken. To that end she had chivied her son-in-law into sending the girls to one of the most expensive and exclusive schools in England. To Gran's disappointment, her eldest grand daughter, Hyeonji, had fallen in love with a young man who had once spent a summer working in her mother's garden. He now had his own plant nursery and was a contented man., but he didn't make a lot of money. Jungkook and Hyeonji couldn't afford to support her mother. With two small children and another on the way, they didn't have a spare bedroom to offer her.

Had Gran known of Han Byeol's secret passion for the chauffeur's son, she would have disapproved, at least until his achievements at university had signaled an impressive future. The irony was that Gran would probably regard Kim Namjoon as a wonderful catch. She didn't think much of love as a basis for wedlock. She wouldn't admit it under torture, but her granddaughters suspected there had been a metaphorical shotgun in the background of her wedding, and the marriage hadn't been happy.

In the morning Han Byeol woke with a headache, result of too little sleep and too much wine the night before. Staying up late, she had finished the bottle. She spent the morning sorting out things in her bedroom and waiting for Kim Namjoon's call. When her cellphone remained silent, she should have been relieved. Instead she felt oddly uneasy.

What if he changed his mind? What if her animosity had made him have second thoughts? During his solitary dinner he might have decided he couldn't be bothered to wear down her opposition when there were plenty of women he could have for the asking. The longer she considered this scenario, the more it seemed to Han Byeol that she might have rejected in haste an opportunity she would live to regret turning down. As things stood, all the future offered was relative penury for her mother and a dull job for herself. It wasn't an attractive prospect.

The trade off Namjoon had suggested, suddenly she found herself thinking of him by the first name instead of his surname. Would mean they were miserable in comfort. But what about her side of the trade off; being the wife of a man she didn't love and who didn't love her?

Well, love, for long the first item on her private and personal wish list, had been crossed off the day Yoongi married Choon Hee. So that brought it down to the question of whether she could have sex with someone other than Yoongi in order to have some babies. They wouldn't have the father she dreamed of, but any father had to be better than none.

Thinking of sex with Namjoon, Han Byeol felt a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. He had all the physical makings of a good lover; his aura of animal magnetism deriving from a great body, a sensual mouth, hands that looked strong enough to crush, but also capable of performing the most delicate and subtle caresses. Just thinking about the components of his disturbing personality sent strange little quivers through her.

Even though still a virgin, her innocence saved as a gift for her first and only love, Han Byeol knew all the theory, knew what those frissons meant. She had recognized the passionate depths of her nature a long time ago. From the beginning of adolescence she had been excited and moved by amorous scenes in books and movies, recognizing her capacity to feel the same fiery emotions as the women in the stories and on the screen. But she also had a streak of idealism. After falling in love with Yoongi, keeping herself inviolate for him had seemed more important than indulging her natural curiosity about what it felt like to do things many of the other girls in her class had experienced as soon as they were sixteen.

A lot of them were the over-indulged, under disciplined children broken marriages. During the holidays they had too much pin money and not too much supervision. Several girls knew by sight hadn't completed their time at school. They had been expelled for serious misdemeanors raging from night time truancy to drugs. Fortunately although described as "lazy", "inattentive" and "irresponsible" in her school reports, Han Byeol had never been taken up by the group known to the serious minded girls at The Decadents. The fact that she was reserving herself for Yoongi would have debarred her from that clique. Although far from being a teacher's pet, from The Decadents' point of view Han Byeol was one of the girls they called The Nuns.

She was thinking about her lack of sexual experience and wondering what conclusions the detective had drawn about her in that respect, when the phone started to ring. She forced herself not to grab it, letting it ring six times before she said coolly, "Hello?"

"Good morning..."

If the distinctive voice at the other end of the line had mocked her about not leaving the phone off the hook, she would have cut the connection and dashed round the flat disconnecting all the extensions and turning her mobile off. But Namjoon didn't refer to her parting shot. He said, "I'd like to show you my library. Will you have lunch with me?"

She drew in her breath, knowing she was on the brink of one of the defining moments of her life. "If you're worried about being alone with me, you don't need to be," Namjoon went on. "My household is run by a staff who are far too respectable to stay with any employer who doesn't live up to their standards. But even if that were not so, I've already made it clear my intentions are honorable."

She could guess from the tone of his voice that there would be a sardonic quirk at the corner of his chiseled mouth. "All right," she said. "What time and where?"

When he had rung off, she looked at the exclusive address she had jotted down on the notepad and wondered why she had relented. Less than twenty four hours ago she had stormed out of his office, convinced she was out of his mind. Now she was going to have lunch with him. Had she gone out of hers? Before setting out of their lunch date, Han Byeol reread the file Namjoon sent her.

He was thirty four, six years older than herself. A bit age gap. It seemed likely that wasn't the only gulf between them. Kim, a merchant bank dealing long term loans for governments and institutions and advising one takeover bids, had been founded by his great grandfather. The controlling influence had been retained Kim Seokjin's descendants.

Unlike her father, Namjoon hadn't had to claw his way up from nothing. The facts in the file indicated that from birth he had been groomed for the position he occupied. But family influence couldn't have made him head boy at his public school if he hadn't lack the qualities needed for that position, nor it have gained him impressive degree at one of Korea's most prestigious universities. He had to have a brilliant brain.

So why pick someone as un brainy as me? Han Byeol wondered uneasily. She knew she had other equally important qualities and had never wanted to exchange them for a superior intellect. But for a man like Namjoon deliberately to select a female who operated by instinct rather than logic seemed strange, not to say suspect.

He lived in a large house in one of the most select squares in the ultra fashionable Gangnam. The butler opened the door to her and took her coat. A man in his fifties, dressed in ordinary dark suit with a discreet tie., he led her up sweeping staircase past the line of family portraits, ti a large first floor landing. As they reached it Namjoon was descending the stairs from the floor above. She noticed his dark hair was damped and wondered why. It seemed an odd time to take a shower.

"You're admirably punctual," he said, holding out his hand to her. As they hadn't shaken hands the day before, it was her first experience of the firm clasp of his fingers. Then he took her gently by the elbow to steer her across a rose and gold Aubusson carpet and through open double doors in an elegant drawing room with three tall windows over looking the city. Normally Han Byeol would have swept an appreciative glance around the beautiful room, taking in some of the details. Instead she was overwhelmed by the strength of her reaction on their first physical contact.

[comeback-tomy-home]

♡❁MASTERLIST❁♡

Smut - 🍒 Angst - ☂

Seokjin

The Appointment 🍒

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Hoseok

The Interview (part 2 of The Appointment) (WIP) 🍒

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Namjoon

The Star Student 🍒☂ ch.1 ch.2 ch.3  ch.4 (WIP)

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Taehyung

The Ninth Floor (WIP) 🍒

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

Stolen (Kim Namjoon/RM X Reader) (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/z0F3HonSR0 You grew up with Kim Namjoon. He's been your best friend ever since you can remember. And once he formed the Bangtan Boys, you gained six other best friends for life. Your group is a family. But your feelings for Namjoon might border on something a little bit more than brotherly.

[yoonchrisgull]

Alpha’s little wolf || Park Jimin

Cover

Alpha's Little Wolf

"I, Jung Y/N---"

"Such a stubborn little wolf you are."

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Synopsis

Your mind stutters dysfunctionally and you slowly take a step back.

Your brother gets abruptly cut of by a low growl, and everyones attention's lured towards the wolf announcing its claim.

"Mate."

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Au

Wolf au.

Alpha au.

Mate au.

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Warning

Story contain smut and adult topics and scenes. Mild use of vulgar language and gore. You have been warned.

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Copyright

I don't own any of the bts members and the plotline once used to be LaikaTaehyung. I have full permission on taking this story and the rest of the functional characters and storyline is mine. Any similarities to other book is a coincidence.

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Chapters: Uploaded soon

Other source: Alpha's little wolf

---

All rights to (bts-edits-and-fiction) @Yoonchrisgull

[tinylesbee]

Fan fiction

As you may or may not know i do write fan fiction. Considering the fact that my Phanfiction : Phan// Teach me Daddy, did quite well I want to get back into writing but since I can't come up with an end to Teach me Daddy yet I'm considering writing a rmxreader fan fiction. Obviously I still love those tall nerds but I read more bts ff and so would try to write one of those, if you would be interested in reading it :

I hope to see you there I'll be working on a cover now.

[love-yourself-bts-fanfics-blog]

Navigation Page - My Recommendations

BTSxREADER - link to btsxreader fanfics

JIN - link to jinxreader fanfics

SUGA - link to sugaxreader fanfics

J-HOPE - link to j-hopexreader fanfics

RM - link to rmxreader fanfics

JIMIN - link to jiminxreader fanfics

TAEHYUNG - link to taehyungxreader fanfics

JUNGKOOK - link to jungkookxreader fanfics

[moroserose]

Snores (Hybrid!AU)

Pairing: Kim Namjoon/Reader

Genre: Fluff, hybrid!au (featuring Brown Bear!Namjoon)

Word count: 1.2k+

Summary: Namjoon had been even clumsier lately, and you didn’t know why.     

~*~

There was no mistaking his drooping eyes as his upper and lower lashes slowly crossed each other’s paths. Namjoon was swaying forwards and backwards in his chair, and you wondered if you should replace the plate in front of him with a pillow instead. Both of you were seated at the dining table, which was usually no boring occasion. Your brown bear hybrid would usually delight in conversing during dinner, be it about the weather (“You should’ve seen it! The lightning just went down like zzzrrrtt! Five times in a row!”) or an in-depth discussion about a book he was currently reading (“The parallelism between Oedipus and Kafka Tamura doesn’t just end with both of them sleeping with—(Y/N)? Why are you covering your ears?”).

But this was not the case today, and the absence of his words had you worried in more ways than one.

“Joonie?” you whispered, afraid about accidentally shocking him out of his stupor, since that would most likely involve flailing limbs—limbs that would knock the dishes, and probably him, off the furniture.

He blinked once, twice, before shaking his head and turning his attention back to you. “Sorry, you were saying…?”

“I wasn’t. Saying anything, that is,” you gave a little smile to assure him that you weren’t upset at his lack of focus, but you couldn’t judge how sincere it looked because the lump in your throat was gorging itself on your nervousness. For all you knew, the smile could’ve manifested as a grimace. “I was just—wondering if—you’re okay?”

To be honest, the one you were upset with was yourself. This was your first time living with a hybrid; there were many things you didn’t know despite having tried your best to educate yourself on their species. Not to mention that bear hybrids weren’t as common as, say, chinchilla hybrids or sugar glider hybrids. There hadn’t been many studies done on them, so you normally had to refer to the origin of Namjoon’s other half, the brown bears themselves. There were, however, many differences between the real animal and hybrids, so you and the vet were constantly learning new things about Namjoon.

“I’m fine, don’t—” his short sentence was cut with a yawn, “—dun’orry.”

“That’s the twelfth time you’ve yawned during dinner tonight, Namjoon.” You worked on looking curious, yet amused, at the same time: one eyebrow furrowed coupled with a tilted smile. Your bear hybrid might be big, but he was a big teddy bear. A big, soft, fluffy teddy bear who took things to heart a bit too often. You didn’t want him to feel like he was being chastised. Still, the slight panic on his face was hard to miss as he corrected his slouch to look more alert, and in turn, you mentally slapped yourself upon realizing that you had used his given name instead of his nickname.

“I’m—sorry—it’s just—it’s been—I promise I’ve been sleeping regularly,” he mumbled, remembering the threat you once had to issue due to his excessive reading habit. It was the first time he had ever seen you close to being angry, and he was determined to make it the last.

Your stare traveled towards his empty plate. He cleared out three servings of salmon pasta in less than half an hour, so the good news was that he still had his appetite…the bad news was that he had been eating about twice his normal portion for the past few weeks. A little hard on the wallet if you were to be blunt, but you didn’t mind that. His cheeks were finally filling up, and his dimples even more pronounced when he grinned.

“Joonie, I believe you,” you extended your hand across the table as a peace offering, and he gingerly tapped the tips of your fingers with his, “but you’ve been so…tired, lately. Exhausted,” you began carefully. “The yawning is one thing, but just yesterday you fell asleep standing while washing the dishes,” you gently rubbed over the band-aid on his palm. “You hurt yourself.”

“Sorry…”

You shook your head. “There’s no need to apologize. It would be great if you could tell me how you feel, though. I can call the vet and ask if—”

“No!” He grasped your wrist in a frantic attempt to stop you from getting your phone, and the loud bang you heard must have been his knee meeting the table. It was difficult to decide whether to be even more concerned or giggle, so you opted to gaze at the hand now clutching yours. You couldn’t help but notice that his fingers were flushed pink. In fact—you realized when you finally looked up—his whole face was. “I mean, no, there’s no need to do that. I’m really fine, just…” his eyes darted left and right, scanning the room for a possible distraction. Yours stayed locked onto his face. “…sleepy.”

“I can see that,” the chuckle escaped before you could do anything about it. By now, Namjoon was close to being a tomato. A pouty tomato who was forlornly glaring at the window and the snowflakes that had blanketed your whole neighborhood white.

And then it clicked.

“Oooooooooooh.”

Namjoon’s chin met his chest as he tried to hide his face with his bangs, and once more you wondered what you had done in your past life that was so amazing that you had the chance to meet such an adorable, wonderful person in your current one. You clearly did not deserve him otherwise.

“Joonie-ya,” you rounded the table and placed your hands on his shoulders from behind. The moment your cheek met the top of his head, the fur of his left ear tickling your nose, he retreated further into his shell by covering his face with his sleeves. “Why didn’t you tell me that you needed to hibernate?”

“I don’t. We don’t hibernate. We just…‘sleep’ for a bit. I didn’t want you to think I’m a slob.” Whatever vehemence was contained in his words were filtered out immediately by his wooly sweater so all that you heard was his embarrassment, and you thanked whatever divine power gave you the strength to stop yourself from squealing; the last thing you needed was to make him uncomfortable about things he had no control over.

“Please, Joonie. You’re one of the most hardworking people I know! I’ll never think that way.  Do tell me more about this ‘sleep’, though. Otherwise, I’ll just worry my head off thinking that you got food poisoning from my cooking. Again,” you laughed, nuzzling his hair and wrapping your arms around his broad frame, and he gave a chuckle of his own, trapping your crossed arms under his chin.

“First of all, the pasta was great. Second, the ‘sleep’ is called torpor. It’s different from hibernation because—”

Despite your willingness to learn, your ears unwillingly tuned him out as it was your turn to get drowsy on a full stomach. Namjoon was comfortable and warm, and your mind didn’t register when he stopped talking, lost in your own world, imagining him cuddling his Ryan plushy while being buried under his winter blanket as rather loud snores continued to escape his mouth.

[d-noona]

BARTERED BRIDE

Chapter 1: Acquisition

Kim Namjoon is a ruthless financier used to buying and selling stocks, shares and priceless artifacts. But now Namjoon has his eye on a very different acquisition - Park Han Byeol. Left destitute by her father's recent death, Han Byeol walks into Namjoon's bank looking to extend her overdraft. As Han Byeol needs money and Namjoon needs a wife, he proposes the perfect deal: he'll rescue her financially if she agrees to marry him. But in this marriage of convenience can Han Byeol ever be anything more than just a bartered bride?

Expecting him to be a middle-aged toad, Han Byeol was surprised when the man who rose from behind the large orderly desk was a tall, dark, middle twenties, very handsome, with dimples on top. Man was he handsome.

“Miss Park, please sit down.” He gestured to the chair on the outer side of the desk and waited until she was settle before resuming his own sit. She knew nothing about him, except that his name was Kim Namjoon and he occupied a large office on the highest floor of a prestigious office block in the City. This area of Seoul was one of the world’s great markets. Judging by his discreetly luxurious surroundings, this man was one of the market’s moguls. To Han Byeol, until very recently, money has been something she spent with careless extravagance on clothes for herself, presents for others and anything else she wanted. Now the supply she had dried up. That was why she was here in the formidable presence of this well-built, 5’11 tall, whose physique didn’t match her mental image of a top-level financier. All she knew about him was that Mr. Lee, her late father’s lawyer, had said that Kim Namjoon wished to see her and might be able to help her and her mother out of their predicament.

Predicament being the understatement of the year, Han Byeol thought wryly, leaning back in the comfortable leather chair and automatically crossing her legs, remembering a moment too late that this was a no-no in the books of advice on how to impress interviewers. The movement caused Mr. Kim to shift the focus of his cold brown gaze from her face to her shapely knees and then to her ankles. Han Byeol accustomed to men admiring her legs furtively or openly according to temperament. Kim Namjoon belonged to the latter group, but whether his frank appraisal was appreciative, critical of indifferent it was impossible to tell. He had the most deadpan expression she had ever come across. It made her nervous.

And Han Byeol wasn’t used to being nervous. She didn’t like it. The appraisal didn’t last long, perhaps not more than three seconds. Leaning forward, his forearms resting on the edge of his desk and his long-fingered hands loosely clasped, he returned his gaze to her face. “You’re in trouble I hear.”

Lacking any regional of social accent, his voice gave no clue to his background. Self-assured and brisk, it was a voice she could imagine giving decisive orders people would jump to obey. Had she met him in surroundings not indicative of his occupation, and had been asked to guess it, she would have assumed that he held a senior rank in one of the special units of crack fighting men called to the world’s trouble spots when drastic action was the only solution. He had an air of contained physical power. A man of action rather than a desk-bound number-cruncher. “Yes,” she agreed, “We are. Since my father’s death, my mother and I have discovered that instead of being comfortably off were extremely hard up – virtually penniless.”

“Not penniless,” he said dryly. “The watch you’re wearing would pay the grocery bills of an average family for several months.” She looked down at her Cartier watch her parents had given her for her eighteenth birthday “I won’t be wearing this much longer, but I don’t mind that. I can cope with the change in our circumstances. It’s my mother I’m worried about. She’s not young. She’s never worked. She –“ He interrupted her. “Nor have you, I understand. The press described you as a playgirl”

“The press put labels on everyone…not always accurate. It’s true I’ve never had a job. There was no point. My father was rich…so we thought. I wasn’t brainy enough to train for one of the professions. I don’t have any special bent. The most useful thing I could do was to help keep other people employed, not take a routine job someone else needed” as Han Byeol attempts to explain her situation. “You do not have to explain your butterfly existence to me Miss Park, but without any work-experience, you’re not going to find it easy to start supporting yourself, particularly not at the level you’re accustomed to.”

“Presumably you didn’t ask me here to tell what I already know,” she replied, with a flash of irritation. There was something about his manner that put her back up. He hadn’t smiled when he greeted her. Beyond standing up when she was shown in by his secretary, he hadn’t done anything to put her at ease. “Why did you send for me?” she asked quirking at eyebrow at the man.

Rising, he picked up a file lying on top of his desk. He walked round to hand it to her.  “Have a look through that.” He strolled away to a window looking out on a vista of rooftops. He stood with his hands behind him, the right hand clasping the left wrist. The file held plastic pockets containing illustrations taken from magazines and the glossier kind of catalog. Mostly they showed pieces of sculpture, paintings and other objects d’art. There were also several photographs of horses, an aerial view of an island off Scotland and a picture of a small French Chateau. Half turning from the window, he said “They're all things that caught my eye over the last few years. Some of them are mine now I’m in the fortunate position of being able to indulge my acquisitive impulses…as I expected you did before your father died.”

Shaking her head “Not on this scale,” said Han Byeol. She couldn’t see where the conversation was heading, as she glanced at him, Kim Namjoon returned to his desk, resting one long hard thigh along the edge of its polished surface and folding his arms across his chest. “There’s one picture in there that you’ll recognize. Carry on looking.”

Intrigued, she obeyed, turning the pages more rapidly than before. Suddenly, with in drawn breath of surprise and puzzlement, she stopped. She hadn’t expected to see a photograph of herself. It had been taken at a party of socialites. She was wearing a figure hugging dress of black crushed velvet and showing a lot of sun-tanned cleavage, having recently returned from a winter holiday in the Caribbean. “What am I doing here?” she demanded, baffled. “You, I hope, are going to be my next major acquisition, Ms. Park.” For the first time a hint of amusement showed in the hard steely-brown eyes and flickered at the corners of his wide, chiseled mouth.

Inconsequentially, it struck her that his mouth was at variance with the rest of his features. It was the mouth of a sensualist in the face of a man who otherwise gave the impression of being self-disciplined. But it was the meaning of his extraordinary statement, rather than the contradiction between his mouth and his eyes that preoccupied her at the moment. “What do you mean?” she said warily.

“I need a wife. You need financial support. Do you understand the word fortuitous?” says Namjoon. “Of course I do,” she retorted, her long lashed – brown eyes sparkling with annoyance at the implied aspersion of her intelligence. It was true she had been considered a dunce by most of her teachers and had never done well in examinations, but that was because she hadn’t been interested in the things they wanted her to learn…grammar, math, physics and incredibly tedious bits of history, all of them taught in a way guaranteed to send the normal teenagers – particularly the sort of restless, hyperactive teenager she had been…into well…boredom. She said, “It means happening by chance…especially by a lucky chance. But I can’t see anything lucky about my father dying of massive coronary in his middle fifties, with his business on the rocks and his wife destitute,” she added coolly. Matching her coldness, he said “In my experience, most people make their own luck. Your father’s lifestyle wasn’t conductive to a long healthy life. As a business man, he took too many risks for a man with responsibilities.”

“Did you have dealings with him?” she asked. She knew nothing about her father’s business life. Since her late teens he had spent little time with his family. It was years since he and her mother had shared a bedroom. Han Byeol knew there had been other women. “Not directly. But after seeing that picture, I made a point of finding out more about you. I was on the point of making a contract when your father died and I put the matter on hold. In the light of subsequent events, I’ve adapted my original plan to deal with things more expeditiously. If my information is correct, you have no relationships with men in train at the present time?”

“How did you find that out?” she said baffled. He said coolly, “I had you investigated…a reasonable precaution in the circumstances. Marriage is a very important contract. When people are buying a house, they have searches made by surveyors and lawyers. I had you checked out, very discreetly, by a private detective. You may want to run a similar check on me. For the time being my secretary has prepared a file which will give you most information you need.”

Retrieving the file she was holding, he placed another slimmer folder on the edge of the desk in front of her. “I can’t believe I’m even hearing this, I thought this was a merchant bank…not marriage bureau.” Han Byeol’s eyes were both perplexed and angry. He didn’t look like a crazy person. In his expensive suit and diagonally striped tie, perhaps the emblem of one of those old boys’ networks which still wielded so much influence, he looked eminently sane and sensible. But he must be out of his head to believe he could buy a wife as casually and easily as everything else in the file he was putting away in a drawer. “It’s a bank and I am its chairman,” he said calmly. Han Byeol cocked her head to the side “You wouldn’t be much longer if your shareholders heard what you’re suggesting. They’d think you were out of your mind. You can’t buy a wife.”

“It isn’t the usual method of acquiring one,” he agreed, going back to his chair. “But these are unusual circumstances. I have neither the time nor inclination to follow traditional course. You are in urgent need of someone to straighten out the financial shambles you find yourself in. if you agree to marry me, your mother won’t have to move and you won’t have to worry about her future. I’ll take care of that. Think it over, Han Byeol, when you’ve had time to assess it. I think you’ll agree it’s an eminently sensible plan.” For some reason his use of her first name detonated the anger which had been building inside her. It was rare for Han Byeol to lose control of her temper. But she did now. Jumping up, she said fiercely “I don’t need to think it over. Nor would any sane person. I’m furious you’ve made me come here, thinking I’d hear something useful! This trip to Seoul has been a complete waste of time. I’ve damned good mind to write to you board of directors and tell them they’ve got a nutcase in control.” Without waiting for his reaction, she marched to the big double doors of solid mahogany and yanked one of them open. Glowering at the startled secretary at his desk in the outer sanctum, she slammed in resoundingly behind her and returned to the private lift which brought her up to this rarefied level of the building