Chapter 127

Outside, a few calls echoed through the hallway. Winnie regained her senses quicker than Van. She gently pushed on his shoulder, her lips parting as she hurriedly gasped, "Mr... Mr. Marlowe... someone..." but she was silenced again by his kiss. "M... Mr. Marlowe... someone... someone..." Her words were fragmented, nearly impossible to make out. Winnie felt powerless, her hands pinned against the door by Van. Her fingers, painted with soft pink nail polish, curled weakly, her palms numb from his thumb pressing into them. Her phone vibrated again, and Van finally stopped kissing her. He lowered his head, holding her in his arms, burying his face into her neck, breathing deeply as he gently pressed his lips to her shoulder. Winnie swallowed a few times before asking quietly, "Is someone looking for you outside?" Van didn't respond. He stayed with his head lowered, pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and answered the call. It was Eric on the other end of the line. "The theater said they couldn't find you." "I'm in the restroom. I can't come out right now. Have her leave the clothes by the door." Eric paused for a moment. The outfit he had prepared was a women's size S, clearly meant for Winnie, so he was surprised by the sudden mention of not being able to go out. He casually asked, "Ladies' or men's restroom?" Van hesitated for a moment before replying, "Ladies'." After the call ended, the staff outside turned and walked toward the ladies' restroom. Cautiously, she stepped inside and said, "Hello, the clothes and mask have been left on the sink." A gentle voice came from inside: "Thank you." As the sound of high heels gradually faded, Van finally caressed her face. "Should I go get it for you?" Winnie nodded slightly, reluctantly pulling the hem of her skirt in front of her to cover her fair skin, while also turning her face away. Van walked over to the door, washed his hands, and then entered the bathroom holding two paper bags. Eric was always thoughtful; inside the bags were not only a black pencil skirt but also a pair of matching black high heels. Winnie released her grip on the skirt, and it slid back down, hanging loosely around her chest. She gently bit her lower lip, looking both shy and helpless. The faint marks on her collarbone and neck made Van's gaze darken. She tried to undo the skirt, but it seemed stuck. Turning her back to him, she spoke in a low, urgent voice, "Help me..." Her back appeared particularly slender under the white light, the sharpness of her shoulder blades and the curve of her waist becoming faintly visible as she turned. Van lowered his head, focusing as he began to unfasten the buttons and ties on her outfit. Then, he leaned against the door, pulling out a white porcelain cigarette case. Only one cigarette remained inside, just enough for a single smoke. The smoke curled in the air, its scent blending with the bathroom's existing fragrance, creating a subtle contrast of warmth and coolness. He hadn't expected to lose his composure like this, in this place, with her. From behind, he embraced her, one hand holding the cigarette, the other slowly and methodically starting to button her shirt. The cigarette burned down, the ash gently falling. The two of them nearly forgot everything around them, kissing more urgently. That dress had been worn for a long time. It was smooth and clean when she first put it on, but now, after being worn, it was wrinkled and crumpled. Van's last cigarette fell, its red tip lighting the ground before being extinguished by their heated steps. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but he knew it was already too much. He released her, cupping her face gently and whispering, "Come home with me." "Go home and be your mistress?" Winnie's voice was soft. Van's fingers traced her cheek, lingering at the corner of her lips. "Your mouth... is better when it's kissing." Winnie leaned slightly against his shoulder and closed her eyes. "I took you seriously." Van sighed, "I'm not interested in that, and I have no intention of it." "Isn't it because I'm rational, understanding, and my body's irresistible to you?" "What mistress is as rational as you? You'd be out of a job." Winnie couldn't help but laugh. "That's what you said." "I've said many things. How do you not remember?" "Like what?" "Like you're too proud, and you'll never lower yourself to serve someone. And that I'm not Wyatt, I don't need mistresses and stars to elevate myself." "But those words were also yours." Winnie gently lifted her gaze. "Mr. Marlowe, I can't see through you." Van smiled, then suddenly his expression grew serious. He lowered his head and kissed her lips again. "Maybe it's because I only need to see other people's gains and losses, but with you, I want to see everything clearly." Their breaths gradually became slower and more relaxed. Winnie lowered her head, feeling a sense of calm within her, like a still pool of water. "I want to know if there's a place for me in your heart. This is something I can't let go of," Van added. Those words were like a stone thrown into a lake, stirring up ripples. Winnie couldn't help but shiver. She didn't ask why Van wanted to understand her feelings, because she was afraid. She didn't dare take that step, fearing that if she made the wrong move, she might never be able to turn back. Van stared into her eyes. "What, you're not going to ask anything?" Winnie shook her head. "We should go..." But her wrist was firmly gripped by Van, and she couldn't break free. "Ask me, ask me why I want to know if you love me." Winnie furrowed her brows slightly, a sour feeling rising in her nose, shaking her head continuously. "I won't ask..." She struggled to free herself, but Van remained unmoved. "Why not ask? Tell me, what are you afraid of?" "I'm not afraid of anything." "I want to know if you love me, if there's a place for me in your heart, because I—" "Mr. Marlowe!" Winnie suddenly raised her voice, her eyes flashing with a complex mix of emotions—both a silent plea and fear. Her gaze silently begged him. Van's voice was calm and steady, as cold and clear as ice, his words heavy and deliberate. "Winnie, because you are in my heart." Winnie's breath suddenly stopped. Her eyes widened even more, and her body seemed to be frozen by some invisible force. In that moment, her time, and the entire world, seemed to be anchored by those words. After a long silence, she finally whispered, "Mr. Marlowe, please don't love me." She fought to keep the moisture from rising in her eyes, shutting them tightly. "Or, at least give me only a moderate amount of liking. Some that fits within the contract. A little fake liking." "Why?"