Chapter 4 He and His Games

First thing in the morning, when he woke up, he went into my room and stripped me off from the duvets. I shivered from the cold.

"What is it? It's fucking 3 am in the morning! Are you the modern-day devil?" I asked, almost screaming, but my throat was so dry I had to touch it to soothe it. His eyes went to my neck when I realized that I straightened up and covered myself with the jacket he gave me. I think all the clothes I've worn today are his; only the underwears are mine. If I am going to stay here for a while, I'm going to ask him to buy me my clothes.

"I was, now get up. It's time to play."

He looked at me with eyes I couldn't see. What the fuck is he into? Why play at this hour? It's proven, he's nuts. Who wakes up this early just to play?

"Why do you sound like a perv?" I stopped speaking when I saw that he wasn't in the mood for a joke, "I didn't say that. Lead the way."

We went to his enormous living room, and the glass windows are overlooking the cities below. Now, that was breathtaking, but by looking at it, it makes my heart go wild from fear that he might throw me in the window from this height when he got bored of me.

I glanced his way, "What are you saying?"

He threw me a remote control, so I tried my best to catch it. But you know how I was; I was dumb and a little bit clumsy, so I wasn't able to catch it; he looked at me like he wanted to give me a smack.

I laughed foolishly and asked him now that I had the remote in my hands, "So what am I to do with this?"

He moved away, and I saw the wheel of fortune; I couldn't read the words written in every choice, so I just had to sit down and drank wine that I saw on the table since my throat is dry and begging for some fluid.

"Press whatever number you like and see your fortune for today."

I laughed, and when he eyed me, I stopped. Pressing whatever number I feel like pressing. I ended up pressing 8. Then it was a slow spin at the first few seconds, and then it was spinning wildly like a rat on a wheel. I ended up waiting for it to fall on one of the choices for like 3 minutes. That's how slow it was.

I looked at him, and I saw that he has good genes. He got some nice shoulders and a nice physique. His legs are not as bulky. It was long and with the right amount of muscles. That's why he looks good in suits and whatever pants he could wear because his legs look long and sturdy.

I don't know why but I fancy guys who had nice pairs of legs. They give emphasis on the upper and lower body, making it a whole lot of a canvas. His body type was the usual fit for a model for men. I don't know. He was sexy.

But he is not the type of man I would be with. I like quiet guys. I prefer men who do not stand out to people. I like guys who are simple and cute. Because this man is overall seductive, and he is the type to easily get everyone's attention just by standing there. It would be a hassle to like someone who's not on the same level as you, and I know my standing in this society, so it's normal for me to be with someone my level.

I blinked when his hand is already on my chin; his eyes are puzzled, "What are you thinking while you are with me?"

"You know what, never did I imagined that I would hear those words in real life, like common, I've only read them in novels." And that didn't make my heartbeat. It made me terrified that I was caught idling. But I didn't say that anymore; he might bash my skull in the wall.

Better be careful than found dead.

"Why did it make your heartbeat?"

I just smiled, not giving him an answer, and stood up. "So what did I end up with the first task?"

"It's not a task; it's a game."

I almost rolled my eyes. Whatever fits your boat.

We went to the wheel of fortune, and my eyes widened when I saw where it landed on.

I read it out loud, "Go to the Philippines and find out who he was." I gave him a dumb look. Who was he? Who is he, this man beside me, or the man that I was accused of murdering? I'm confused there wasn't even a name indicated, just a 'he'. The fuck do I do with that info? It doesn't even say anything.

Then he spins the smaller wheel that was attached to it. He stole another kiss on my lips, I wasn't prepared, but his face stayed so close to mine until the wheel stopped. An image of a teenage boy from my memories emerged from my mind. I shook that thought, and I was confused when was that memory happened? Why can't I remember that? I pushed that thought aside and how his face almost overlapped with his.

I didn't even dare look him in the eyes as I was busy with his presence. I know that I would feel his presence and remember it when I sleep. Why does he have to exude such an aura? Why does his presence linger in my mind?

He grabbed the side of my face to make me look at where the second wheel landed on. I read, "While acting like a dumb sexy spy on the plane and telling everyone that I am from the International Bureau of Affairs. And that I am suspecting everyone from having a connection from a certain syndicate. I may make up whatever country or name of whatever non-existent syndicate I am searching for."

I look at him, and I wanted to laugh. "What kind of joke is this? You really want me to embarrass myself? You want me to end up in jail for stirring up a commotion?"

He gave me a sly smirk, "Aren't you bought because you want ultimate protection because you are too embarrass and make a fool of yourself?" He leaned and spoke again, "You know that you are in no place to say no. You are bought for my own amusement, not for your safety. I couldn't care less if you suffer from a sentence you never did. What I want was for someone to play my game and amuse me."

I sighed and stopped myself from thinking. An hour later, I was dressed in a sexy black suit. I had a fake ID that says that I am an agent from IBA. Do agents even let themselves known and show their own identification IDs while on a mission? Aren't they supposed to disguise themselves while they were on a mission?

Whatever I just need to know why this man was doing this to me. And if I really know this man from before.

It's obvious; he might have been a part of my life before. I am not that dumb to see them laid out pieces he gave me. I was forgetful, I admit. I couldn't even remember if I had dinner and lunch yesterday, all the more what happened in my teenage years.