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Cat runs into the small room, and I follow to pick him up. “No, Cat, I probably wasn’t supposed to find this,” I tell him, my heart hammering in my ears. The rascal jumps from my arms and knocks over a box with black ties which falls to the ground. I pick them up and quickly place them back in their rightful place. “How the hell do you close this?” I try all the drawers again, and luckily, the false room closes. I bump the door shut and lean against it, catching my breath. I follow my way down the hallway and down the stairs, heading for the kitchen. I’m thirsty and hungry and make myself a cup of tea, wondering about all the guns and shit. The man wasn’t kidding, he would find me anywhere. I’ve got nowhere left to run, this is the end of the line. He is the end of the line. I peer out of the floor-to-ceiling windows and the cars driving in the distance. I look at the clock in the kitchen, two in the morning. I usually start to paint around this time if I can’t sleep. I miss painting, this view would be a great place to get my inspiration going. I pour myself a cup of tea and wander through the big ass apartment, while Cat follows me around, his one missing leg not hindering him one bit.
Turning the corner, I head up the stairs to another level. I open one door that apparently leads to another bedroom. I close it and move down the hall, pass the bathroom, and when I get to the end, there is only one closed door left to try. I push it open, and Cat runs inside. This room is big as well, with a desk and bookcases lining every wall with little trinkets and stuff. It looks like his office, there are papers everywhere, it’s kind of a mess, and I grin. “Good to know the man isn’t as put together as he lets on, huh, Cat?” I laugh, taking a sip from my tea as I stare at the pictures on his desk. A nice-looking older couple smile back at me. This must be his parents, I think. There are a couple more with him and five other guys. I pick one up and stare at the picture. They are each handsome in their own way. But I’m drawn to Minki’s cold eyes and small smirk lining his otherwise stoic face. “Your dad is really handsome,” I tell Cat, putting the photo back where it belongs.
Scanning the room, I spy there is another door I haven’t tried yet. I open it and a huge bedroom greets me. This one is different than the one he took me to. It’s sparse, with only a big bed and two nightstands on either side, but what makes me do a double take is the amazing view of the Seoul skyline. “Is this his real bedroom?” I ask the cat. He jumps on the bed, and I scratch behind his ears. I look around the room, there is a half empty whiskey bottle standing next to the bed with a glass tipped over. I place it upright and read the label. Looks expensive. There isn’t anything except a small record player in the corner with a couple of albums lining the wall. The man likes music, apparently. I scan the titles, some are from film composers and Korean artists I recognize. There aren’t any pictures or personal touches, nothing that tells me anything about him. It makes me a little sad. To have all this and have nothing at all at the same time.
“Come on,” I tell the furry ball as I close the door behind us. What now? I have no idea how long the man is going to be. I take care of business in the bathroom and stare at my reflection. My lips are red and swollen, and my hair is an untamed mess. I look sort of happy for a prisoner. “A month’s long prisoner,” I tell my reflection while I grab my tea and make my way back to the bedroom he took me to first. Should I go to sleep? I mean, I haven’t got my phone. I could read one of his books? I place the cup on his nightstand and fall back against the fluffy sheets, staring at the ceiling. I read so many dark romance books about girls being a prisoner at the mercy of their captor, but I never thought I would be one of them. I literally made my bed and now I’m lying in it. That’s the difference, I did this to myself by trusting my ex-boyfriend, and now I’m doing the same with the mafia guy.
I stifle a yawn, I’m kind of tired, the man knows how to kiss and do many other things. I smile thinking about how he went down on me. No one has ever done it before. I don’t know what to think, what to feel. This is all make believe. He doesn’t care about me, only about our deal. Probably easier to use me than go out and find someone else. He knows I wouldn’t be a problem for him in the long run. I’ll be gone, along with all my problems. I also know I’ll never erase the man from my heart. He is everything I always tried so hard to stay away from, black and morally grey. Dangerous, dark, cold, and so addictive. The moment he stepped out the door, I’ve been wondering what he’s doing. Why do I care if he’s safe or not? I look around his room and locate the light switch on the nightstand and turn the lights down a little. I get under the blankets, still wearing his shirt and boxers. Wait, am I supposed to sleep here or in some other bedroom? I bite on my bottom lip and run both hands through my hair. I don’t know, but this bed is amazing and so incredibly fluffy. I settle into the pillows smelling like him and stretch out. Thinking about the man in question, I catch myself smiling. The way he pulled back when I wanted to trail my finger over his scars and finally letting me do it. The way he kissed down my neck all the way to my pussy. I fantasied about it, and feeling his lips there was hot as hell. I’m already seeing pictures in my head of what I can paint. All in blue and grey, the color of the moonlight.
Trailing my hand down his shirt, I push it up and circle my nipple. Something makes me bolder than I usually am, lying here in his bed. Slipping my hand in his boxers, I groan, the sound reverberating through the empty room. I’m never this loud when I’m alone, I guess the mafia guy can afford some good soundproofing. I’m already wet. Maybe wearing his underwear is a huge turn on, I think, biting on my bottom lip. I sigh, I have no idea, this is crazy, or is this the person I was always meant to be? Circling my clit, I whimper and spread my legs wider.
It’s hot so I kick the sheets from my body and pull his shirt up, revealing my naked breasts. I tease myself, thinking it’s his hand softly stroking my walls. Would he be gentle, or would he go all in like before? I start to play with myself, imagining him doing the same to me. This is crazy, I’m crazy for fantasizing about the man when I’m his prisoner to pay off a debt.
Closing my eyes, I let the sensation wash over me as I flick my clit. I squeeze my breast and start to pant when I imagine his cold eyes staring up at me while he licks my nipple and takes it into his mouth. Would he suck or bite it? The scars should scare the fuck out of me, but they don’t, they make me want to hold him. To brush his long hair out of his line of sight while he stares at me as he disappears inside of me.
Biting back a moan, I dip my fingers in deeper, imagining it’s him doing this to me. Picking up my pace, a sob slips from my lips, chasing the orgasm I feel building. I shouldn’t want him, I shouldn’t be doing this in his bed with the chance he’s watching me through some video feed, while my shirt—technically, his shirt—is pushed up high over my breasts and my hand is down his boxers. I gasp as the orgasm washes over me, imagining his dark eyes as he watches me from a screen on his phone from wherever he is, and I fall asleep with his name on my lips.
Summer
I hit him again, much harder this time. The blood spills from his mouth while the light flickers above him. The guys all left me alone to deal with the loser who’s been on our radar for a long damn time. She was the last straw I needed to make him bleed. I grab his hair and he cowers back. Jin-young tied him up for me, the bastard loves to strap people in, I’m sorry for the girls he fucks.
“I didn’t mean to,” Storm’s ex begs and cries.
“What didn’t you mean to do? Fuck with our business?” I ask, already a little bored with him. I like it when they beg, but when they start to cry it gets on my nerves.
“You can have Gangnam, my father is…” He hiccups.
“Your father is already in our pockets. I’m here for the woman you screwed over, you son of a bitch.”
His eyes flash to mine. One is already starting to swell. I don’t know why but I love it when they bleed like this. He is nothing but dirt under my shoe. “You mean S-Storm?” he stutters.
“Don’t fucking say her name,” I growl, and Han walks into the room. The maggot’s eyes race to him, like Han’s going to lend a helping hand. My brother leans against the wall and lights up a cigarette, coming to watch the show. I grab the asshole by the collar and the fucker starts to choke. “Don’t say her name,” I repeat.
I feel a hand land on my shoulder, the cigarette smoke wafting around me. “Don’t kill him, we need him alive.”
I let him go and he tries to catch his breath, almost puking his lungs out, his chair falling with him in the process. And then he starts to cry. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“What?” I crouch down next to him. “I can’t hear you.”
“With her, she told me she wanted to wait.”
“Wait?” I ask, and my head snaps back to Han who frowns at me and shrugs, not knowing what the fucker is talking about. “What do you mean?” I motion to Han to hand me his cigarette pack. I tap one out and talk around it while I light one up. “What do you mean?” I repeat.
“She wanted to wait,” he cries, his eyes focusing on the cigarette, like I’m going to stamp it out on his face. Like my mother’s ex did when we were living with him when I was a kid and the old man had too much to drink.
“Wait for what?” I frown, blowing the smoke in his face.
He starts to cough, and I stand but stop from walking away when he says, “I didn’t know she belonged to you, I would have never…”
“You’d never have what?” I reply, getting bored with the whole situation.
He starts to cry again, his body shaking uncontrollably. I grab the back of his neck while the cigarette dangles from my lips. He averts his eyes, not able to look at me. I’m probably a reminder what will happen to his Gangnam plastic surgeon rearranged face.
“Please don’t hurt me.” He keeps pleading.
“What happened?” I bellow, and I feel Han taking a step forward. He knows I could easily stab the son of a bitch in the neck if I wanted to, but I won’t. I need to hear what he did to her. To my woman, mine, I scream in my head. “Tell me,” I order, my voice ice cold.
“She wouldn’t give me the money.”
