Alarmed, I cup his face and ask, "What's wrong, my love? Why—" He pulls me in, and I instinctively bring my legs up onto his lap. His arms hover in the air, allowing me to settle in. But instead, I decide to wrap my legs around him in a straddling position, so he stoops forward to give my legs room behind him. He places one arm across my butt and the other on my back as he breathes me in.
I've never felt closer to him than in this moment as I embrace his powerful strong form that seems to hide a fragile soul. The peace I felt when I sat next to him that first night we met at the club washes over me again. My eyes close as his heartbeat slows, until our hearts beat in unison, in sync with our breathing. Can we stay like this forever?
The limousine driver's side view appears on the display screen. "Sir? We've arrived. Should I park in the parking lot and give you some privacy?"
Arrived? Where?
"No," Mr. Silence says while nuzzling my neck. With a long sigh, he separates us. The driver opens the door on his side. Mr. Silence steps out, and the driver comes around to open my door. I stand to see where we are. The Beverly Hospital, stands before me, a uniquely designed building with extra steel angling the curvature, showing movement in a half S-shape. This is where I spent a month and a half in a suite on the thirty-fourth floor.
Mr. Silence interlocks his fingers with mine and starts to walk us in.
"No, I hate hospitals," I say. For the first time, I don't follow him. The sternness in his eyes softens as he picks me up and carries me in. I kick my legs, looking up at him, and whine, "I don't want to be here. I don't like doctors."
The glass door opens, and a curvy, cheerful, golden-skinned nurse greets us. "Hello, Ace. Welcome back." She holds the elevator door open, and Mr. Silence steps in. I wave shyly at her, tugging on Mr. Silence's vest to get his attention. Embarrassed to be carried like a child in front of Nurse Kelly, who was one of my nurse while I stayed here, I softly say, "Put me down." He obliges.
As soon as the elevator door opens, Kelly motions for me to follow her. Mr. Silence stands, staring after me when I look back. The Director of the hospital stands beside him, waiting to escort him to the VIP lounge. I dread what's to come. I debate about running. I know my rights. They can't make me. If I turn toward the elevator now--
Mr. Silence grabs my hand and continues down the hallway where Kelly is waiting.
"I can go by myself," I say and pull away from him. It looks like escape isn't an option.
Almost four hours later—exams, one machine after another, one doctor after another, and–after collecting my blood and pee—Kelly escorts me toward the Director's office. It's a trip I'm too familiar with. I drag my heavy, bruised, and tired body down the long hallway. Suddenly, I feel weightless as I'm lifted up. I pout at Mr. Silence and whine, "It was horrible! They touched me everywhere, and I got poked. Look!"
He cracks a smile, his eyes sparkling. Kelly's chuckling reminds me we're not alone, but I don't care—I need to be carried. I lean back, letting myself go, and enjoy the world upside down as he carries me into the director's office. He sits me down and takes the seat next to me.
The director takes his seat behind the large mahogany desk. Grinning at Mr. Silence, he addresses him, "Great news, all the tests came back better than expected. Miss Ace is recovering at a faster pace than we predicted. Her body shows no signs of rejection." He hands Mr. Silence the iPad with the detailed results of each exam.
No matter which doctors see me, it's always the director who gives the results. He never addresses me. It's as if I'm not even in the room. I'd be offended if it weren't for the fact that I find all of this boring. It's good that Mr. Silence handles everything. But the way they're all on edge whenever they're around Mr. Silence, it's like he owns the place.
I pity my bruised arms from all the poking, glancing between my left and right arm. Apparently, I have small, moving veins, which make it difficult for the nurses to find. The Director clears his throat and continues talking to Mr. Silence, "Hmm... so... Miss Chan Yeol is doing very well." He looks hesitant as he clears his throat again. "So... she can... resume her normal sexual activities now."
I hold my breath as the heat rises to my cheeks. What's wrong with me? Why do I feel embarrassed? Come on, I host orgy parties, have been in gangbangs—since when is sex ever embarrassing to—
Mr. Silence pulls me up and walks us away. I stare at his fingers tightly wrapped around mine as we exit the building. Are we... now? No, no, I'm not ready. I didn't shave. I haven't showered since yesterday, and— His lips glide ever so slowly against mine before he presses into me, stealing my breath as my body melts into his. His hardness rubs against me as his kiss deepens.
Now's a great time! Now is needed.
His lips linger on my cheek as they slip off mine. This... feels different. He feels different. Something's changed. Our breaths mingle as my eyes finally open to meet his smoldering gaze. "Saturday, Akira Lounge at nine," he commands before letting me go. My mouth falls open in bewilderment as I watch Jason hand him the black Aston Martin's keys. The limousine driver stands, holding the door for me.
Jason gives me a warm smile and nods before heading into the hospital. I glance between the hospital… the waiting limousine… and the Aston Martin already gone. I have no idea what just happened.