Page 22 of Billionaire’s Cruelty

“I dated this guy…” The words came out slowly as I weighed my options—or rather, the consequences of not telling Wendy anything.

“Spill now, or I walk.”

There it was. I had no other choice.

“It’s a long story.”

“Just tell me the short version.” Wendy stuffed a custard tart into my hand before helping herself to another one.

“My ex… he’s the head of the largest and most powerful triad in Hong Kong.” I peeled off a flaky piece of pastry and nibbled on it.

She nodded, raising her eyebrows, urging me to continue.

“I think he’s behind everything.”

“You mean you think he has Kai?”

“No, I don’t think so.” I shook my head, then froze as Wendy’s question finally caught up with my thoughts. “Wait—you don’t think…? Oh God, I hope not. Mack works for Dannie.”

Wendy plucked the custard tart from my hand, as she finished off her third. “Let’s assume this Dannie boy has nothing to do with Kai’s disappearance. Because no triad boss would risk kidnapping a billionaire for a scumbag like Mack, right?”

That was exactly what I had been telling myself. The Dannie I knew wouldn’t do something that reckless—or at least the Dannie I knew back then.

“Right.” I nodded eagerly. “I think he’s the reason those people won’t help us with the fake documents—but I don’t know why…”

“Just you, honey. I’ve got my travel documents.” Wendy brushed the crumbs from her hands and the front of her yellow floral t-shirt, then wiped her mouth and fingers with a wet tissue she pulled from her backpack.

“I don’t know what to do.” I whispered, glancing outside at the people passing by.

“You do.” Wendy’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked over at me, before she took another drink from her water bottle.

I did know what to do. Dannie wanted something from me. I just had to figure out what and give it to him.

“Maybe.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew that woman?”

“What woman?”

“The one who called you some Chinese nickname.” Wendy narrowed her eyes. “Please—I might be jet-lagged and starving, but don’t think I’m not paying attention, lady. Let me tell you, the hungrier I get, the more awake I am. Got it?”

And cranky too.

“What did she call me?” I asked, my mind racing. She might have been awake and alert, but I was freaking out—and apparently not paying enough attention.

“Sounded like Aso.”

I made a noise—something between a cough and a laugh—but had no idea what to say.

“Ah sou.” The old woman answered nonchalantly from behind the counter. “It means she’s married to the boss.”

I froze. It struck me then—how strange it was she hadn’t spoken a single word of English when Wendy struggled to order the tarts. And all this time, it had never crossed my mind that the cafe owners might understand us. Why should they? We weren’t in America. And they’d understood everything. Every single word.

“You’re married?” Wendy’s voice cut through the haze of my thoughts.

“Not exactly. We just did this… cultural ceremony thing.” My head bobbed side to side in an awkward attempt to downplay it.

The old woman snorted, a dry, knowing sound.