I'm glad that's over. With a foolish smile on my face, I stand in front of the club's restroom mirror, already missing him, even though it's only been two hours since I left him at the apartment. I feel obligated to do this as a thank-you to Mr. Wong for leading me to the love of my life. Pulling his shirt up to my nose, I close my eyes and inhale his cologne.
My phone chimes, and my eyes widen as I read Mr. Silence's message: Come to my room.Now.
Wasn't he sleeping? Why is he here? My mind races as I hurry down the long hallway toward him.
I rush into the room and feel his familiar strength as he pins me against the wall.
"This is what you left me for," he hisses as he yanks the strings undoing them and unzips my pants. I wrap my arms around his neck as his hands wrap around the back of my thighs, lifting me out of my pants and off the ground. My legs automatically encircle him. Shock and confusion mix with excitement, and I moan under his forceful kiss as he thrusts in.
As soon as I can speak, I say, "I didn't want to leave you! Nnnn... I never wanted to leave you!"
"Quit. Now!" he demands, biting my neck before he lets go and continuously pounds me.
"Yes! Yes! Ahhhh..." I squeeze him tightly, making him groan as he fills me up. His swift withdrawal brings a trial of spillage. With his pocket square, he wipes himself, zips up his pants, and wipes my thighs. In a daze, I pull down the shirt to cover myself. He presses the service button on the door before carrying me to the sofa with him. Seating me on his lap, he covers my exposed legs with his suit jacket while I shower him with kisses.
A knock at the door, before Jimmy opens and enters, smiling.
"She quit," Mr. Silence says, then takes a sip of water.
Jimmy looks confused, and I open my mouth to speak, but Mr. Silence cuts me off, "Spicy shrimp pasta. That's all."
He goes back to adjusting his suit for better coverage on my legs and unrolling his shirt sleeves to cover my arms. Jimmy leaves.
"I can expla—" I begin, but the fury in Mr. Silence's eyes silences me for a moment. "My love... I'm here to be a translator. I also like to check on the people involved in my cases after—" I try to reason with him, but he cuts me off again.
"So you think it's appropriate to leave me at the apartment while I was asleep to come here?" His voice is low and hoarse.
My pounding heart keeps its rapid rhythm. "I'm sorry, my love. I didn't think—"
"What?" He turns up to me sharply, his eyes flashing with anger while he buttons up the collar of his shirt on me.
I wrap my arms around his neck, hoping to placate him. "I'm sorry I've worried and upset you."
"Worry... is that what you think this is?" His words cut through me like a knife. He pushes me off his lap, making me stumble onto the sofa. "Not an inch from that spot," he orders before leaving the room.
Why is he so angry if he isn't worried about me? We have spent practically every weekend together, and even most weekdays for the last two months. I practically live with him. If I leave him for a few hours, it shouldn't have been such a big deal. Should I have woken him up and told him instead of leaving a note?
Strolling back into the room, Mr. Silence looks calm. Jimmy follows him in, carrying my favorite spicy shrimp pasta and freshly cut fruits on the plate.
Politely smiling, I say, "Thank you, Jimmy," but my heart sinks at the distance between Mr. Silence and me. It's a clear sign of his discontent. I grip my hand on my lap to steady myself as he stands sipping his whiskey. The air feels thick, almost stifling—so much so that even Jimmy senses it, glancing between the two of us.
Jimmy clears his throat and starts, "It's your last meal with us, so let me—" but Mr. Silence cuts him off, handing him the silver credit card from his pocket. Jimmy's eyes widen as he looks down, takes the card, then a bright smile spreads across his face before he leaves the room.
Mr. Silence takes a seat on the sofa opposite me, lifts his whiskey glass again, and my heart races, bracing for his next move."Eat," he orders.
"I've lost my appetite," I whine, turning away from him pretending to be mad at him. But when I glance back, the burning fury in his eyes intensifies to a murderous rage. "My love... why are you—" I begin again.
"Just because you lack the capacity for jealousy doesn't mean others are immune to it!" he shouts, hurling his glass against the wall. It shatters, accentuating the deafening silence that fills the room. I flinch and he stands.
Throwing another glass to the same wall, he continues to yell, "For someone so brilliant, how can you be so utterly obtuse!"
I stare at him blankly, having never seen him this angry.
His nose flares, the creases between his eyebrows deepen, his chest heaves up and down, and he presses his lips together before continuing in a dangerously calm voice, "You're capable of sitting composedly and tending to me after seeing me with another woman. Do you expect me to do the same?" My god, he looks hotter than ever.
I bite my lower lip, swallow, but the lump in my throat doesn't go away. Feeling like a complete fool, I gather my thoughts as he turns his back to me, hands on his hips, trying to calm down. Isn't this just casual sex for him? I take a deep breath, run to him, and hug him from behind.
"My love, I'm such an idiot," I whisper. "I didn't think..." you'd feel jealous especially when it's just casual sex for you. I can't tell him that! "I love you so much that I'm consume by my feelings for you. I do feel jealous, I was—" He faces me abruptly, silencing me with a kiss that's both tender and passionate.
"Eat," he commands softly, placing me back on his lap as he sits, and putting the fork in my hand.
I lean closer to him, our eyes locking in a moment of seductive tension, and murmur, trying to make amends. "I'm more hungry for you."
His pupils expand, swallowing the sharpness, and his long lashes lower slightly, giving his stare a heavy-lidded, smoldering look. The tension in those brown orbs transforms, crackling between anger and need, his gaze now lingering on me with the kind of hunger that makes my breath catch. "Aren't you sore?"
"Yes... how can I not be? We've made love all day today."
I pucker my lips, but he stands up, pulls me toward the door, and pins me against it once more. My limbs cling to him as his zipper comes down so fast that before I can take another breath, he's already filling the throbbing hollow that craves him more than my heart can admit.
He continues to push me up against the wall.
"Did I tell you I love you today? Nnnn—" I moan into our sloppy kisses.
"You said you'd love me this lifetime and the next."
Taken aback, I say, "I don't remember saying that."
He thrusts strongly as he bites my lower lip.
"Slowly, my love... I'm sore," I beg.
"Promise me," he commands, tightening his arm around my waist, thrusting me upward against the wall.
The soreness mixing with pleasure makes me gasp and scream. "Yes! Yes, I promise!"
"Say it." He grows impatient, rougher.
"I promise to love you this lifetime and the next one too." He slows down, his kisses becoming gentler. Just when I didn't think he could finish again after how many times we'd made love today, he surprises me.