I dry heaved into the toilet a few good times before Chanyeol came to the door.

"You alright?"

In the last twenty-four hours I'd been hit on by disgusting men, bathed in expensive whiskey, watched my uncle be murdered, had my death warrant signed, been carted to France by a mobster, and here I was, in clothes way too expensive for my pathetic soul, about to sign away two million dollars that didn't even belong to me to some over-the-top mobster with orange hair and way too many tattoos.

I sighed, thankful nothing really came up so I didn't have to ask for a toothbrush. 

"Yeah," I mumbled, standing and wobbling in my heels. Chanyeol gave me a pitiful smile and told me to return to the conversation.

"All your documents and IDs are with Chanyeol and all you need to do is act like you know what you're doing, sign your name on a few papers, and walk out of there," Sehun said, almost rolling his eyes at how simple it sounded. "Then you come back here and say your prayers like a good little girl."

Chanyeol was an impeccable actor, it turned out. However, no matter how well either of us were at making our fake marriage believable, it wasn't going to make things go 100% the way Sehun wanted it to.

"What's he going to do to me?" I asked quietly on the drive back to the hotel.

I'd been holding myself together pretty well this entire time, I thought, and I had kept my mouthing off basically non-existent since we'd boarded the jet. I had mentally prepared myself to be carted back to the hotel to my death so it had come as a bit of a shock when the bank teller informed us that it would take several days for anything to be finalized on the account due to our foreign citizenships. A week at the most. With the extended time suddenly slapped on the end of my pathetic life, I'd started to feel overwhelmed and the incredibly biting hunger in my stomach despite how nausous I felt.

Chanyeol sighed, pulling into the parking spot the car originally had been in. He turned off the ignition but didn't move to face me nor get out of the car. I'd hoped he wouldn't look at me anyway; I was crying again and I could tell the makeup Irene had put on me was barely holding on.

"Just don't do anything to piss him off," he finally said, taking the keys out. "He'll be testy enough when he finds out so just keep out of his way until he cools off. It's not like we were caught or anything, things will still pan out as expected, it's just going to take a little longer."

I sniffled in silence the rest of the way back to the hotel room and paced in behind Chanyeol once Jongin opened the door for us. Immediately, Jongin noticed the sullen look on his partner's face and the blotchiness of mine.

"Boss," Chanyeol called out to the man sitting on the couch. Sehun stood, expectant and maybe a bit smug. The look didn't last longer than Chanyeol's next sentence though. "It's going to take a few days for the bank to square everything off while they check all our records. We'll have to stay in France until then and she'll have to stay alive as well."

The room went rigid for the few moments Sehun was silent and processing the new information. His eyes finally flitted to me, darkening.

"What did she do?" he accused, advancing.

"It wasn't her," Chanyeol quickly intervened, rooted in his spot while I used him as a shield. "It's standard protocol. They just want to make sure everything is legit. I've already made the phonecalls to make sure everything gets passed through with no trouble whatsoever. We just have to be patient and wait for them to give us the phonecall." He finally stepped to the side, forcing me into light. I gulped, wiping roughly at my damp cheeks. Sehun narrowed his eyes, trying to pick up any detail that might say I was purposely trying to prolong my time on earth. 

After a long, pressured silence, he waved his hand dismissively. "Fine, confine her to the bedroom, I'm tired of looking at her gaunt face," he said, making his way over to the couch.

Chanyeol didn't even bother grabbing me as I simply followed him into the master bedroom. He silently shut the door behind us once we were inside and busied himself checking the windows.

"We're sixteen stories up," I said tiredly, "I'm not dumb enough to try and escape through some windows."

He thoroughly checked that the windows only opened a couple of inches, barely enough to stick your hand out, and let the curtains fall back in place. "Stupidity isn't what I'm deeming your dominate instinct right now. I was thinking more along the lines of desperation, so I'm going to be sure all bases are covered before I decide not to handcuff you to the bed in an entirely non- way."

I did not laugh.

"Do I at least get some comfortable clothes to change into while I await my death?" I asked before he left the room.

"I'll pass on your request to the boss."

I figured then that there was no chance I was getting even a ratty pair of sweatpants and ketchup stained t-shirt. I plopped onto the oversized bed with a tired sigh. I was absolutely exhausted, my eyelids suddenly seeming to weigh a ton and my shoulders tense and sore and my stomach growling and my feet aching. If I was going to be locked in a bedroom until my death, I might as well make the most of it.

I knocked out within seconds of lying back onto the bed.

When I finally awoke, it was dark outside and there was someone in the ro