She sat nervously in the back seat of the SUV wedged between the men she knew as Jay and Bo. She was struggling not to cry but felt the tears on her cheeks. The sound of her father’s hoarse cry calling her name as she was escorted out of her apartment was haunting.
“Iris, why are crying?”
“Because my dad is hurt,” she whispered, “and I’m scared, Mr. Zhao. I don’t know –”
“It is Jay to you,” he cut her off with a frown. “You were in my bed just this morning and you want to return to some kind of formality?”
“You just told me you’re taking me from my family to pay a debt and you are not who I thought you were.”
“I am the man who taught you basic Mandarin and made out with you in a coffee shop two days ago.”
“But you lied,” she whispered. “All of this was some way to punish my parents?”
