THE circle k

It’s just not fair, the way he can bend you with your tender flesh is in his diabolical hands. Your desire for him remains a steady constant–but maybe your goals have changed.

As you look at yourself in the mirror of your new rosewood vanity, you make a new promise to yourself (for what that's worth, considering how you have gone from wanting to escape to accepting your role as Donaka’s new pet) that even if you are flung into this new lifestyle of stupidly overpriced luxury, you will not let the things rule you. You will not become like your mother or your step-mother or your half-siblings, caught up in the next paltry triumph of who outdressed who or who has the latest and greatest designer bullshit.

Perhaps with some cheek, you resolve that you are going to have your cake, and eat it too. If it makes Donaka happy to show off his wealth on the canvas of your body…fine. Let him. Because when that man is pleased with you, you get your way in other things that are important, like cancer treatment for little girls who are dear to you.

Mei showed you a video of her sister that morning, smiling happily and waving at the phone. The doctors say the treatment is going as well as it possibly could, and there is hope for her. You hadn’t forgotten about little Jing, but seeing her certainly put things back in perspective for you after you spent the night feeling sorry for yourself.

You have to admit, not all of your goals are so altruistic. There is an idea that exists on the outskirts of your mind; almost more of an outline of a thought than something concrete, it is so ridiculous. But deep down, in the darkest dungeon of your heart, this thing has taken root and you have decided that someday, you are going to get that impossible man to admit that he loves you. Maybe then…all this will have been worth it. It is probably the closest thing to revenge you could ever manage to extract from him.

You really have lost your goddamn mind.

Later that afternoon you get to meet the stylist you didn’t even know you had. Apparently after some direction from Donaka on your preferences, she'd picked out all those beautiful items in your closet, and Ava Chan has come to the house armed with a rack of dresses and two assistants to whip you into shape for wherever the hell Donaka is taking you.

Mei sees them in, and you think you can see the curiosity shining in her eyes. “Can you stay?” you ask, not sure if this would be fun or boring for her.

Eagerly she nods, but then remembers Mrs. Yeung. “I'll get into trouble…”

She’s not wrong, and you think on it a moment. “Not if…you go to the kitchen for tea and snacks for our guests,” you say with a lift of eyebrows. “I’ll let her know.”

Mei hides a laugh behind her hand, knowing Mrs. Yeung will seethe over this new scheme for undermining her authority. You call the internal line to reach the chief housekeeper, a thing that usually only Donaka would do. Knowing full well the master is not at home, Yeung answers with a surly, “Wai?”

“Mrs. Yeung, I'm having Mei serve tea, and I will need her for the rest of the afternoon.”

Yeung answers with a few Cantonese curses she knows you won't understand under her breath. “What on earth could you need that useless girl for? No. She must finish mopping all the floors today.”

“We’ll do it tomorrow, Mrs. Yeung. Do jie!”

You hang up the phone before your former boss can offer further argument, though you hear the tinny strains of more wrathful words on the other end of the line. Mei’s eyes sparkle, and the two of you laugh like co-conspirators. “I think she just called me like…10 bad names,” you admit, giggling like a naughty child who just got away with all the cookies.

After Mei skips out to see about that tea Ava Chan shakes her head with amused disbelief. “Did I just witness a palace coup?”

“Totally bloodless,” you assure her with a cheeky smile.

At least…you hope so.

“So…what are we doing?” you ask, nervous and excited for what she has in store.

Ava claps her hands, rubbing them with glee. “Let me show you what I’ve brought.”

🌸🌸🌸

When you attempt to ferret out the location of your mystery destination in casual conversation Ava shakes her head emphatically. “I was specifically instructed not to tell you,” she imparts with regret, and you can’t help but wonder how exactly Donaka delivered this direction; you can practically hear the poor girl gulp with dread at the idea of slipping up.

“That’s fine,” you soothe her, backing off immediately. “I’m not trying to get anyone into trouble.”

She’s clearly relieved to hear this; perhaps her other well-heeled clients would have thrown more of a tantrum over not getting their way.

None of them have ever met the force that is Donaka Mark.

After this everyone relaxes a bit more around you, and the tension in the room shifts to something decidedly more congenial. Mei arrives with tea and sundries, and the fun begins.

While you try on dresses Mei eats most of the snacks, and Donaka’s severe bedchamber takes on the atmosphere of a middle-school sleepover withchatter while you try on your new clothes. The room erupts into laughter as your new girl gang attempts to teach you bad words in Cantonese (so that you’ll be better prepared for your next showdown with Mrs. Yeung, of course.)

Ava brought selections from Versace, Oscar de la Renta, Gucci, Giambattista Valli, and other brands you’ve never heard of. They’re expertly crafted garments in blacks and shimmering steel gray silks and satins, with bead details and damask weaving and metallic lace...how are you supposed to choose?

Yet there’s also a part of you that can’t help but wonder if this is another test set before you by Donaka. You are sure that even among these gorgeous garments, there is surely a wrong answer among them for that man.

Despite the more showy pieces that tickle your crow brain, you keep coming back to a simple black silk midi by Dolce & Gabbana with lace trim. It’s fairly tame by high-fashion standards, all except for a rather daring slit up the thigh. You keep thinking about those fabulous pearls that will be fastened around your neck. They’re the real show. Everything else is just background, including you, you’re afraid. You finally decide on that one, and then it’s on to hair and makeup.

Maybe you are happiest when you are wearing dust from the road and your trusty hiking boots…but as you look at the end result of Ava’s directions in the mirror, you have to admit that this is something…interesting too. You hardly recognize yourself, and despite your earlier reservations you’re infected with the energy of the moment from the excitement of your helpers and Mei. By the time they leave, you hope you can call your new acquaintances friends.

By the end of the primping whirlwind, choosing a dress and trying on a pair of sky-high Louboutin sandals, you are all talking and laughing. Ava has you standing in front of the mirror for the final inspection, plucking at the dress to make it drape just so. You have to hand it to her: she is very good at what she does.

As Isabel is misting you with one last spritz of hair spray a voice from the doorway makes you all jump out of your skins: “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”

The girls immediately scramble to gather up their things at the sight of the master of the house; you’ve all been caught out having a very good time. You feel surprisingly calm, however, and the two of you lock gazes through the flurry of Ava and her assistants cleaning up the room.

The heat in that man’s eyes could warm you through a blizzard in Hokkaido.

He stands with hands in the pockets of his dark suit, a rock amidst rushing water, waiting through the flurry for the two of you to be alone. “Thank you, ladies,” Donaka offers with a menacing politeness as they file out with their heads bowed.

“Do jie nin, Mark sin saang,” says Ava quietly, the last one to go.

He really does have a way of making you feel as though he’s caught you at something…

Or maybe you’re in trouble.

After the door shuts with a soft snick he approaches you with a gimlet stare. “My assistant received an irate phone call from Mrs. Yeung this afternoon. Apparently my household is going to pieces, and she cannot possibly go on without hiring two new maids thanks to my meddling mistress stealing her employees.”

You still can’t tell if he’s truly angry or fucking with you.

“Meddling mistress, huh? I don’t think that’s quite what she called me over the phone.”

Standing toe to toe with you, he tilts your head up with a single finger beneath your chin, inspecting the end result of all Ava’s tricks. Finally, the corner of his mouth ticks in a smirk, and a knot in your heart releases in relief.

“Be careful with your new power, bunny. Use it wisely.”

It’s the closest he’s come to saying you’re in charge of the house while he’s gone.

“I was polite about it,” you assure him, struggling not to squirm under his heated gaze. Tonight you have to be cool as a cucumber–you’ll face no greater test than withstanding the scrutiny of the man before you.

“Thoughtful of you.” His smile widens, and the warmth in your heart blooms outward through your body like a sunrise. “You look beautiful, y/n.”

“Thank you.”

His hand descends to encircle your neck, holding your fragile flesh ever so lightly. No matter your expression, you know he can feel your racing pulse fluttering against his fingertips like a trapped butterfly. No matter how good his mood, there is a tiny part of you that wonders if someday he might squeeze, just to see what happens.

Maybe you are falling in love with this man…but you’re not sure if you will ever totally trust him.

“Shall we add the final touches?”

Why does it sound ominous, when he says it that way? Maybe you’re just overly sensitive to everything, these days. But you still nod, and watch him disappear into the closet to access the hidden safe.

TBC...

"There she is. I was afraid my boys overdosed you. Was it necessary to give them such a hard time?"

Slowly you turn your head to find Donaka Mark seated in a carved ebony throne of a chair at the head of a long dining room table, self-satisfied as a man who has finally won a long game of chess.

"Donaka…you. Fucking. Idiot."

His amusement shifts into a terrible frown, eyes narrowing to anthracite slits.

"That's not how you want to start this off, y/n."

You sit up, too fast, and the vast room spins. You brace yourself, and wonder how mad he'd be if you threw up all over his beautiful silk pillows. What the fuck did he drug you with?

You swallow back the urge to blow chunks. You can always save that for later. "I'm going to level with you," you groan, closing your eyes against another wave of nausea.

"At long last."

"I am on the run from someone."

"I know."

"He found me. Tonight. I locked him in a room at the shop, but that won't hold him for long—"

"I know."

"What do you mean you know?"

He smirks down at you, having fun again.

"I told you I've been watching you, y/n. We noticed a new player skulking around your normal haunts a few days ago. It was obvious."

You blink, the urge to slap that smug smirk off his handsome face burning so real that you clench your fist. He knew. He knew, and he didn't tell you.

"He's a very dangerous man."

Donaka just chuckles at you. "So I hear."

"You don't understand."

"Has it occured to you that maybe you don't understand? Come eat something, I promise you'll feel better." He removes a lid from a dish to tempt you, and an amazing savory smell wafts through the room.

Shaking your head, you finally feel well enough to push to your feet. "I don't have time for this."

You make it two steps before Donaka is on you, lithe as a panther, picking you up like you weigh nothing at all. The current state of your muscle control is no match for him—god he's a big man—he actually laughs as you struggle, pushing against him until he plops you down in the chair next to his, pinning your hands on the arms.

"Calm. Down."

"I'm warning you, Donaka. I'm a curse you do not want a piece of. He'll kill you. He'll kill everyone here."

With a sigh Donaka picks up a set of chopsticks and expertly starts doling out bite-size tidbits onto your plate. "You do remember my business is security, sweetheart? I employ the most skilled and ruthless ex-military contractors in my personal detail. If that man comes here, he'll have a bad night."

He holds up a small dumpling to your lips in offering, and a pregnant pause weighs between you like a physical testing of wills. "Eat."

"I can't," you plead. "Please, just let me use your phone. I have to call Jack—"

Donaka throws the chopsticks; they skitter across the fine table setting with a clang, overturning a small cloisonné enamel vase of flowers. "Jack, Jack, Jack. You are safe with me. I have delivered you from what I can only assume is your worst fear, and all you can talk about is Jack?"

"I have to go now!"

You push out your chair from the table, trying to scramble away, but he's on you again in the blink of an eye, catching you with an arm around the waist. This time he's not so gentle, slamming you down on the table and pinning you beneath him. Silverware clatters and rings—china shatters on the floor. You try to get your leg under his torso for leverage but he locks his lower body against yours, wedged between your legs, holding your hands over your head with a grip that makes the bones in your wrists creak. You scream and thrash and snarl against him until you physically cannot do it anymore, heaving for breath while baring your teeth.

The buttons of his shirt strain across his broad chest as it heaves, looking down at you with all the sympathy of a tiger with a tasty deer in its jaws. He smirks, assessing your disheveled state, all wild eyes and still ready to bite. His usually so carefully coiffured hair has fallen down into his eyes; they are sharp and shining as obsidian blades.

He is beautiful, and terrible, and you would stab him with a fork right now if you could only get your hand free.

As though to emphasize your defeat he deliberately grinds his hips against yours, punishing you with the hard bulge of his erection at your center.

"Creep!" you snarl, struggling again for spite, though you really are out of steam.

"You are a little fighter," he pants, short of breath from your battle. "I have to admit. This is the most fun I've had in a long time."

He shifts to hold your wrists with one massive hand, reaching down to unbuckle his belt like he has all the time in the world to play with you now. This is when you start to cry, your lips trembling as fat tears roll from the corners of your eyes. All you can think is I'm sorry, Jack. You fought as hard as you could…but you aren't strong enough to prevent this betrayal. You're afraid you'll never be able to look him in the eye again. This all flashes through your mind in a matter of seconds, this pervading feeling of defeat and treachery sinking into your bones.

"Aw, don't start crying now, you little hellion," he mocks you. "Surrender, and I'll still let you cum."

The thought twists like a vile knife in your guts.

"Donaka…please don't. I know you're a better man than this," you plead, choking out your last word.

Strangely this is the thing that gives him pause, looking down at you with that timeless dark gaze that has always made you squirm. He lays his palm flat over your chest, not groping you, but to feel the hammering rhythm of your heart beneath the spread of his hand. "I'm really not, y/n. Though I might have kept up the charade for a little while longer, just for you."

"I'll hate you forever," you warn him, your words like sandpaper in your throat.

"No you won't," he scoffs. He has not taken a single word you've said tonight seriously. You wonder if he'll pay for it with his life.

"Just you wait."

"Suit yourself. I've got you where I want you now."

He goes back to his belt, flipping it free, undoing the top button of his designer slacks.

The bark of a gunshot startles both of you, plaster raining down from the ceiling.

A booming command of "FREEZE, MOTHERFUCKER!" cuts through the room, and you sag with relief, your head knocking against the table.

Jack.

He stands in the doorway with his gun drawn, your knight in shining white t-shirt.

Thank god.

He's so tall and fit and true, the veins in his arms and his neck popping with his fury. You can't hold back your sigh, even if you know you're not out of the woods yet.

Donaka doesn't even look up at first, smirking down at you. "Officer Traven. Late to the party, as usual."

"Back away with your hands on your head!"

Considering Jack has a large caliber weapon pointed at him and a look of pure murder on his handsome face, Donaka decides it might be prudent, though he still does it as though he is merely indulging the police officer's childish demands.

"How ever did you find us?"

"911 call comes in from her shop and she was missing? You were my first suspect, asshole."

"Is that why you're here alone, without backup?"

Jack just frowns, caught out that he's cowboying on this one, alone.

"Sounds like you didn't have any evidence for a warrant…"

"Does it look like I need a warrant?"

"Does he even know about…?" Donaka gives you a pointed look with a lifted brow, like not even he wants to utter the Baba Yaga's name.

"Shut up. Back away from her, slowly. No funny business. I'm itching for an excuse to shoot you."

"You won't shoot me," taunts Donaka. "You're one of the good guys, Traven."

"Not feelin' so good right now, believe me. Turn around." Jack crosses the room, gun in one hand, cuffs in the other. You gingerly push yourself off the table, standing on legs that still tremble. Donaka watches you with a smirk, and you contemplate hitting him in the face with the last remaining china plate on the table.

"You ok, baby?" There's nothing you want more than to hide in his arms right now, but you know he has his hands full.

Jack dares to glance your way while cuffing your kidnapper.

It was a mistake.

Donaka explodes into action, knocking away Jack's gun and pouncing on him. The two tumble and exchange blows like rabid dogs engaged in battle, snarling and punching. Unfortunately…the millionaire actually knows how to fight. This is why his hands aren't soft, you think to yourself in a panic, looking around for a weapon. The gun has skittered off somewhere and the two powerful men are exchanging blows that sound like they could fell an ox. Donaka actually manages to get on top of Jack, rearing back to hit him when you pick up a very large, very old, very expensive blue and white Ming vase from a side table and crash it on Donaka's head as hard as you can.

He doesn't go down quite like you hoped he would, but the shock of it gives Jack just enough of a window to flip him. He manages to get one hand cuffed with a knee on Donaka's spine when shouts from the door fill the room.

"Freeze!"

"Get on the ground!"

Suddenly the room is filled with four security guys kitted out in full tactical gear with weapons drawn. They're Donaka's well-paid attack dogs, and you absolutely believe that they will shoot both of you with so much as a nod from Donaka.

With a hangdog look of apology that cleaves your heart Jack raises his hands, slowly dismounting from the millionaire he was trying to arrest.

Maybe Jack should have just shot him.

Furious and bloody, Donaka lands a sucker punch that makes you scream. Jack falls back as you run towards them, forgetting the guns in a very stupid moment of animal instinct to protect your mate. Perhaps it's lucky for you, that Donaka grabs you up before the guards turn you into Swiss cheese.

"Restrain him," Donaka snarls, kicking Jack in the ribs.

"Stop!" you plead, struggling in his vise-like grip, crying and carrying on like a mad woman again.

"Be still," hisses Donaka, twining your hair in his fist, pulling your head back at a merciless angle as he pins you against him.

You are so consumed with the fear of what he intends to do with Jack that you tremble like a leaf, so hopped up with adrenaline you don't even feel the pain. You realize you weren't afraid before. Not really. Not like this. Now you're ready to beg on your knees—ready to trade anything for Jack's life—but you are all interrupted by a smattering of gunfire at the other side of the house. The crisp pow pow pow is unmistakeable, and you don't know if you are terrified or relieved.

"What the fuck was that?" snarls Donaka, pulling your hair as though you are personally responsible.

"We're under attack, sir. We need to evacuate you to a more secure location."

There's more gunfire, nearing closer, and with a strange sense of acceptance you just listen, knowing very well what's coming their way.

Death wears a kevlar suit, and they're about to find out he wears it well.

TBC...

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