Chapter 7：Her Secrets

With a deep sigh of regret, I begin flipping through the small stack of files.

Nothing seems out of place at first, until I hit the records starting when Jen turned 16. Numerous calls to the authorities are compiled, from domestic disturbances to abuse. All were centered around her father.

Six months ago he was placed in jail after she turned up at the department incoherent, soaked from the rain, and injured. An extensive catalog of injuries were submitted. As of now she's healing from bruised ribs and a dislocated shoulder.

Adrenaline pumps through my heart like liquid fire.

In a mad dash I run down the hallway and a flight of stairs to the second floor. Once I'm in front of her door I realize that I have no idea what to say. Nothing can make this situation better. If she had trust issues before, learning that I investigated her past would strengthen them.

I reach out and slowly open the door to spot Jen in the corner of her room, painting peacefully with ear buds blaring music. Out of curiosity I walk further into the room, only to pause at her piece. The subject of it confused me beyond belief.

She's painting my portrait.

~*~

Something crashes behind me, causing an elegant screech to leave my lips. I nearly paint over Mr. Dark and Broody's face. Once I spot him behind me I wish I had.

"Mister Cheng!"

"Sorry, I meant to check in on you. I couldn't spot you from the doorway."

My cubby is directly across from the doorway. It's very hard to miss. Well I did, but I was tired and it was dark. Based on his expression I decide not to bring it up. Wait, is he blushing?

"I'm quite alright, thank you. What about yourself?"

"I'm fine."

His brisk answer ignites a deep irritation. Something about this man's coldness gets under my skin. If I don't like a situation, change it. That's what grandma always said.

In a moment of decisiveness, I get up and walk straight over to him. His stunned response brings a certain level of triumph to boost my confidence. I know I act like a child, I grew up being treated like nothing more, but it's time to act my age. He brings out a side unknown to me before.

Once we're face to face, I reach up and touch his flushed cheek. It goes from a pink tinge to crimson. He exhales quickly when I question the possibility of a fever in his ear. His eyes close.

"Maybe you should rest Mr. Lee. You're getting hotter by the minute. Hm?"

I level my lips to his and slowly touch them. He lets out a tortured sound, which only serves to encourage me. With a sweet smile I pull away and raise an eyebrow. The look in his eyes once he opens them speaks volumes. I'm not getting out of this one alive.

I've seen lust, but there's something deeper behind those eyes. Any questions he had before left his mind long ago, and I'd much rather this moment than questions I'm not ready to answer. Right now he's my answer.

I slowly kiss his lips when he suddenly grabs my legs, which I wrap around his suit clad waist. The motion raises the skirt of my dress simutaniously, leaving my cold body to cling to him tighter. He leads us to the bed and we crash down on it.

My hands grasp his suit jacket, tugging it until he gets the memo to pull it off. He's too occupied with undressing me. Let me say, this man is better at taking off clothes than he should be. Strangely though, he pauses at my bra clasp.

"Are you sure that you want this? There's no going back, I'll never let you go. Can you promise me?"

My lips quiver in sadness. Even I'm not sure if I'm willing to give up my freedom. Tears roll down my face, which I attempt to discreetly wipe away. Why can't I be an adult for one G**damn moment? I want him, but at what cost?

"Sorry, did I hurt your shoulder?"

I stare back at his concerned eyes in confusion. How did he know about my shoulder? Unless...

"Did you investigate me?"

"You did! You so did! Why? Why didn't you just talk to me? All I've wanted since I got here was someone to talk to. I'm so damn lonely all the time. Sorry, I get it, I know you're busy. I get it already..."

Silence fills the room after my outburst. I want to apologise for my paranoia, he could have just noticed it in the few minutes he's been home. When I raise my head to ask his forgiveness, all I see is guilt in his eyes.

He stands up, placing his jacket over my half nude body and walks out. Once the doors close I don't bother to suppress the tears that fall hot and heavy. Everything feels so heavy.

For the first time since I got here, I begin to feel like a failure. It's a condemning feeling I know all too well, one that reminds me of my original goal.

I need to leave China as soon as possible and finally go to France.