Chapter 4. Intruders!

Linda Wells

Three days after and we are officially in China, this is my first time being here, and I am beyond impressed. Why did no one tell me that this country is like twenty years into the future? It all looks so futuristic.

Right now, I am in a very huge room that is twice the size of my room in the United States. Chris was not joking when he said he was the CEO of two companies. He calls this a house, but I call this a freaking mansion!

“This show again?” Chris walks into the room shirtless and wearing gray sweatpants. He looks like a Greek god, and I can never get tired of looking at him shirtless, not like I would ever say that to his face.

“Yeah, it is a great show, I really like it,” I tell him as I try to focus on the large flat-screen TV on the wall instead of his chest.

“Yeah, she used to like it too,” he says, and I take the remote control from on the bed next to me, and I reduce the volume. This “she” he is referring to must be really important to him, I saw how serious and somber he got.

“Who’s she?” I ask him, feeling curious as to who this mystery girl is. Could he be married or in a very serious relationship? Gosh, I don’t know much about this man.

“Oh wait, you’re jealous?” He jokes, and I can’t help but feel flustered as I laugh nervously.

“Me? Jealous? Then you have not met Linda Wells then,” I reply to him, making my voice as strong as I can.

“The ‘she’ that I am referring to is my wife,” he says, and for some reason, I begin to feel disappointment. Maybe I wanted him to be my rebound, that’s why.

“Wife, huh?” I turn my attention to the beautiful ceiling. I am currently laying on the bed, I still cannot feel or move my legs. Since I came to China, I have only met a medical team once.

“She’s dead,” he adds, and my eyes widen. The silence after he says this is deafening, I did not expect that. 

“I’m sorry,” I say to him after a few seconds of silence.

“Yeah, it sucks,” he replies, and then he takes his phone out of his sweatpants.

“I need a drink,” he says to himself as he dials a number on the phone. When the person he is calling picks up, he gives them instructions to bring a bottle of expensive liquor to the room. I cannot even pronounce the name of the liquor he requested correctly.

“Would you also like something?” He asks me, and I shake my head to say no.

“I don’t drink,” I tell him, and he raises his eyebrows.

“Really? You don’t drink at all?” His tone tells me that he does not believe me.

“Oh, crap. You’re too damn hot to be a virgin when it comes to drinking alcohol,” he adds, and I clear my throat. His way of complimenting me is very straightforward and bold, and he has not even had a glass of the liquor he requested for.

I like it.

“Well, not all hot girls drink, do they?” I shoot the question at him, and he smirks while staring at me.

“Tell me about your wife,” I tell him, and his smirk fades instantly.

“How did she die?” I ask, and he rubs his face with his hand, clearly remembering things that he wishes he could forget.

“You know what? Forget about it, I’m sorry I asked,” I say to him, and he looks at me and shakes his head in disagreement.

“No, I want to tell you, but it is just so freaking hard,” he tells me truthfully.

A knock soon sounds at the door, and with permission, a middle-aged man walks in with the liquor that Chris requested. Two glasses are also on the tray.

The man pours the liquor into the glass and hands it to Chris, and then he places the tray that has the liquor bottle and the other glass down on the large coffee table not too far from the bed.

“Thank you, Chad,” Chris thanks the man, and soon the man leaves us alone once again.

“Ahhh,” he sighs when he takes a long sip from his drink because of how strong the liquor is.

“I no longer have my wife, my beautiful wife, because she died in childbirth a year ago,” he finally tells me more about his wife, and it breaks my heart. That is terrible to hear.

“The baby died too, so yeah,” he shrugs as he takes another sip of his drink.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” I say honestly, and he chuckles dryly.

“Of course, you don’t,” he says so low that I almost don’t hear him.

He stands to his feet and places the glass of liquor down on the tray, and grabs the entire bottle.

“I would be out if you need me,” he says as he opens the bottle, he then drinks a huge potion before walking out of the room.

I really don’t know what to say in times like this, it’s like my mouth was sealed shut. I feel really bad for him.

In about a minute, I hear a loud crash at my window. When I look toward it, I see two women crawling into the room. Both of them have guns in their hands.

The urge to yell in fear takes over, but before I can even open my mouth, they stop me.

“Scream, and I will slice your throat open,” one of them threatens me, and I close my mouth.

What the hell is going on? Are they robbers? How did they even get in here without the guards noticing them?

“You’re coming with us,” the other woman with the short hair tells me, and I shake my head in disagreement.

“I think you have the wrong person. I’m from America, and I barely have enough money. This is my first time in China. I can’t even walk!” I say out of fear.

“Shut up!” The short-haired one yells at me while the other one goes to the door and locks it.

“Trust me, you are definitely not the wrong person,” she switches her accent and speaks like an American in a split second.