Bang Bang, Bangkok

Rhea's eyes were glued on the television screen that flashed the most recent news. Her feet were tucked underneath her, a loose t-shirt and cut-offs adoring her frame. The news anchor rambled on in Thai, a language that the blonde woman was still learning. She listened hard, trying to slowly translate the complex syllables that were erupting from the flat-screen.

Rhea felt uncomfortable in the high-profile flat. A posh prison of white and stainless steal. It was so bright and unbearably clean, empty and echoing. She wished the maid hadn't left; things would feel a little safer.

When the door opened, Rhea's body immediately locked up. She shivered at the sound of his entrance, his harsh and firm movements. Actions of annoyance, frustration. Without a word, Rhea rose from the couch and crept towards the stairs to the loft above their heads.

Zhou Mi's eyes were set in a steely, ferocious glint. His fingers curled around the knot of his tie, loosening it with a jerk. He shrugged out of his blazer, throwing it over a dining chair. “Rhea, darling? Come here.” Rhea was creeping up the steps, the carpet compressing underneath her feet. “Rhea?” She clamped her lips shot, body began to shake at the sickly sweetness in his voice. “Darling, I know you're here. I've had a very...bad...day and I'd really appreciate if you would help me...” He waited, could almost hear her rapid breathing of panic. “Rhea.” The voice had hardened. “Get over here.”

Slowly, the blonde obeyed and made her way back down the stairs. Tremors had found their way through her body, worsening when Mi stepped into the archway between the kitchen and living room. A predator waiting his prey to walk right into his jaws.

A smile spread across his face and he held his hand out to her. “Come here, baby.” He read her movements before she thought them. Just as she tried to turn and run, he caught the tendrils of her loose hair. He yanked hard, pulling her back. Rhea shrieked, striking out blindly before his free arm wrapped around her. “Where do you think you're going?” Mi demanded, shoving her forward yet keeping a firm grip on her. “You think you can fucking run away from me!”

He forced her to lead the way up the steps, hauling her nearly dead weight as she tried to go limp. But it was no use. He was stronger than his lean figure let on. The trip down the haul, then the bed room, Rhea continued to fight relentlessly. This was almost a first, at least the amount of this passionate avoidance of the inevitable.

Mi threw her on the bed. Rhea tried scrambling back, but he caught her by the ankle and dragged her back towards the edge of the bed. She screamed and flailed about before his body fell over hers. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head with one of his hands. The other hand did a skillful job of ruthlessly groping her and removing her shorts and panties.

“I said...” he growled, breathe hot in Rhea's ear, “that it would be worse for you if you fought me.” She tried to lean away, but he was unbelievably strong and adrenaline was coursing through his veins. “You know if it wasn't for me. You'd be getting dick from some grungy fat bastard. So be thankful.”

Rhea closed her eyes, still struggling uselessly, though her weakened state was enough to get Mi off right there. He loved the control, the empowerment of subjecting others to pain and helplessness. It made his heart hammer, his body quiver. Rhea used to be ore obedient, but now...now he lusted over her even more since she started fighting him.

Mi's free hand unbuttoned his pants and he shimmied them down to his ankles. Then, he pried her thighs apart, using his one of his knees as an assist before he violated her.

~~~

After the club incident the week before, Nickhun decided to move his entertainment to his home. It would be handier that way. The large house covered two stories of chique furniture and décor, paintings that were priceless, but the young mobster only bought to show off. He couldn't give a shit about art, but women seemed to think it was hotter if he acted more 'sophisticated'.

It wasn't that Nickhun lacked serious class, but he was more interested in the drugs he could purchase and the women he could score. Women were art in themselves and he had spent the last couple of years studying them and finding the best to add to his collection. He had a variety of different collections.

-Women who made the cut for his clubs
-Cheap whores for ugly perverts and low-class businessmen who needed a quick fuck after work and before they went home to their wives.
-Expensive whores that were sent to either be on the arms of the rich or to lay in their bed for a weekend.

Nickhun had his favorites in the prostitution and stripper business and often times they overlapped for his benefit. Tonight, there were five dancing their way around the living room for he and his men. Jet was among them—and he was disgusted past words. How could these women do this so easily? Completely bare themselves to these lustful men who had absolutely no respect at all.

Nickhun noticed the older man sitting in the corner of the room, keeping his eyes everywhere, but on the dancers. He beckoned to one of the girls and she approached hesitantly. She was darker skinned—of the Indian or wherever background—with black hair that fell to her tailbone. Her large, hazel eyes glimmered in the dimness. She bent over so Nickhun could whisper in her ear from his seat. Jet caught the flicker of her eyes to him and he tensed.

Without word, the young woman, who went simply by 'Ash', straightened and approached Jet at a slow and deliberate pace. An exaggerated sway to her hips underneath the gossamer skirt that fell to her ankles. Her top consisted of nothing but a simple piece of fabric barely covering her breasts. Jet watched her the entire time and the eye contact almost made the woman stop.

But this was Ash's job and Nickhun was her boss and she really didn't have a choice. Even if this man was a threat and would stab her twenty-seven times(like what had happened to Chimlin three months ago when she denied a man sexual service), she had to do as Nickhun ordered.

“You look lonely,” Ash said in English, raising her voice above the music. She didn't speak Chinese and little Thai and this man was not Thai; she could tell that much. Her hopes were he spoke at least basic English.

Jet did not even want to respond, but he simply said, “I'm fine.”

Hmm, he's one of those...

“Don't worry,” Ash said. “We don't have to touch.” She reached behind her to undo the fabric from around her chest, but Jet's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. It startled her so badly, she jerked back with a squeak.

“Do not interact with me,” said Jet. “I want nothing to do with your kind.”

Ash's cheeks flushed red and she pulled her restrained wrist away. “'My kind'? You wouldn't know anything about my 'kind'!” she snapped.

Her raised voice and tense manner had caught the attention of the other guards. One of them tapped Nickhun on the shoulder. The man turned in annoyance; being interrupted from a show was one of his least favorite things. But at the sight of a glare-off between Ash and his best bodyguard, his annoyance quickly deepened to anger.

He rose from his seat and approached. “What's going on?”

Ash's head whipped around, eyes turning to saucers at the sight of him. “N-nothing.”

“Why aren't you doing your job, Ash?”

“I-I was trying, but h-he didn't want—” Ash's explanation was cut short by slap across the face. Jet stiffened.

Nickhun's hand grabbed her chin and pulled her face back to his. Her eyes shimmered with tears. “Don't make excuses, bitch! I gave you a job so do it!”

Jet rose, eyes burning. “I denied her,” he said, turning the younger man's attention to him. “There's no need to do any of that.”

Nickhun looked between the two. “She not pretty enough? Not your type? I can get you a girl your type.” He was still gripping Ash's chin.

“My type are the women who keep their clothes on.”
Nickhun smirked and released Ash. “Yeah, I get you.” He went to turn back to the girls, but he looked over his shoulder. “If you're going to work for me, you better get off your high horse, Li.”

Jet said nothing, sitting back in his chair calmly. Ash threw Jet a glare before returning to the front of the room, but was grabbed by one of Nickhun's cronies for a lap dance.

The room had quickly went back to its lucrative ways and Jet was left alone in the corner's shadows. He watched Nickhun with a closeness—his weakness was definitely his need to impress others and fulfill his own pleasure. The Thail “Prince” had no remorse for those who were involved in that. These women...Jet pitied them and he almost regretted the harsh words towards the young woman who had pursued him.

Even now, he caught the glimpse his way and saw it—the desperation, the sadness, the slight pleading glance. She knew he was different and some flicker of hope wondered if she showed how much she despised this life, maybe he would help her.

But it was doubted. Why would one of Nickhun's meat heads help her? Just because he was against the use of women, he was most likely unbelievably loyal to the son of a bitch who was whooping over the women removing their final articles of clothing.

Ash sighed and tried to bury that glimmer of hope down deep. But the ashes still burned and it would only be so long before they were stirred into flames again.