Til Death... [Chan]

4

I stared straight ahead as the car drove on. Chan didn't say anything else, and I was too afraid to know what he had meant by that.

'They're watching,' he'd said.

Who? Who was watching?

My body was stiff, and I tried to spot a camera or maybe a car following us, but nothing stood out. Chan's hand held mine out of obligation, not comfort. I couldn't let myself forget that.

Whoever was watching us was forcing him to perform...forcing me to perform. We were puppets to these invisible people, and based on the fear that coated his expression, I knew I needed to play along.

I rested my head lovingly against his shoulder. He exhaled a slow and deep breath as he relaxed a bit. His grip on my hand became looser, and his thumb tapped the back of mine in tune with the faint music that the driver was playing.

Eventually, the car pulled up to a gate. He didn't even have to roll the window down for us to be allowed inside. The driveway was long and beautiful with willow trees lining either side making a canopy above.

When we pulled up to the house, I was surprised at how perfectly ordinary it was. We'd both grown up with levels of wealth unfathomable to the common person. I'd expected a mansion or a townhouse in the city, but this was just a house. An average two-story home with ivy growing on the side like a fairytale cottage.

Chan opened the door to the car and helped me get out as gracefully as possible with the excessive fabric of my dress. The driver rounded the vehicle and bounded up the stairs to unlock the door to the house for us.

Chan held my hand as we walked up the steps, and the driver whispered something into his ear before relinquishing the house key. Chan nodded and dismissed him. He turned and walked back down the steps.

Chan opened the door wider, and I went to step inside, but before I could, his arms swung down and scooped me up. I gasped, and he smirked in response as he carried me into the house, kicking the door shut behind him.

He set me down on the ground gently and began undoing the cuffs of his shirt to roll up the sleeves, revealing veiny forearms.

I didn't want to gawk at him (even though I wasn't blind to the fact that he was a man worth the effort to gawk), so I took the opportunity to explore. There was an ornate mirror in the entryway that I had to pass by to get to the living room, and I glimpsed, refusing to pause for long. Still, I was surprised that, despite feeling different, I looked like myself.

I breathed a small sigh of relief and continued on. The living room was finely decorated with oriental rugs and vintage furniture. I grazed my finger across the carved arm of a wooden chair.

Chan stared at me as I did so. He took off his watch and then took heavy steps towards me. I felt paralyzed under his intense gaze. His eyes were dark, and his lips pursed as he strode towards me.

I opened my mouth to ask him what he had meant in the car, but he brought a finger to my lips.

"Shhh," he murmured. "Good girls can't talk."

My heart raced, and my cheeks burned. His phone rang in his pocket, reminding me that I didn't have mine, and he answered it, his finger still against my mouth. His thumb stroked my bottom lip, and I didn't know how to respond.

'...accept his advances,' played like a chant in my mind.

"We will. We literally just walked through the door," Chan snapped at the person on the phone. "Soon."

He tossed his phone to the sofa, and his thumb now pulled my bottom lip down completely. My lips parted ever so slightly, and he took the opportunity to dip his finger into my mouth. I didn't know what to do, so I sucked on it. Chan raised an eyebrow at me in surprise.