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Chapter Twenty Eight
Last Updated:
2025-11-14 04:49:03
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HIS TOY Sixty
AMELIA XAVIER We sat in the pool, our legs feeling the coldness of the water. Stars hung dimly in the night sky as only few were noticeable. Tree leaves rustled in the breeze as it blew softly against our skin. The party was tomorrow and we weren't enthusiastic about it. “How powerful is he?” I asked out of the blue, and he seemed surprised by my question, but he answered anyway. “Powerful enough to get followers because first, he's the real heir although a bastard, as father puts it, and then again, they hate me,” Owen answered, he let the water determine the movement of his legs. “Why would they hate you? Because you're the adopted son or that you're the black child in the midst of white mafia parents?” I asked rhetorically, and he shrugged knowing that we both knew the answer to that. Silence ensued between us once more, and I focused on the ripple effect my feet made in the water. “So what are you both fighting about now?”“Power. Authority, and oh God, he has eyes on you,
HIS TOY Fifty Nine
OWEN WINTERS The business with the Russians was going quite well, and that was soothing at least, although the major problem hadn't been solved — the personal problem. I sat on my chair swivelling it in an arc pattern, my hands on my chin. The documents piled up in front of me wasn't my concern, and that was something I would do later or tell my assistant, whatever her name was to do it. My coffee must've gone cold, because the absence of steam was present, only a melted ice and a caramel colour lay motionless in the coffee mug. I hadn't spoken to father since the incident with his legitimate son. I did my own background check and terrifyingly enough, those allegations were true. Father —Mr Winters did have another life apart from the known family, and yes, his fucking son was the product of it all. But to crown it all, the dick head was to be the real heir to the house of the Winters. Something I worked for all my life. “Pathetic,” I scoffed, my fingers playing with my hair
HIS TOY Fifty Eight
OWEN WINTERS I'm dying.No — I'm dead.Pretty much dead inside. I sat on the couch, my fingers clutched tightly around my coffee cup, the hotness of the coffee burning through my skin, but I couldn't care less. The sound from the TV vibrated through the room, but not too loud for Amy to hear. The weather was cold, so Amy lay in bed covered in blankets, and not too far away, maybe… just maybe, a branch had fallen on the road due to the heavy rain that helped deepen my gloom. Well this was a new day, and happiness seemed bleak on my side. I stared blankly at the screen, as people talked and moved until my coffee fell from my hand and shattered on the floor. Shit! A glass had pierced into my toe leaving a small cut, and the steaming liquid splashed onto my feet burning through my skin. “Merde!” I cursed wincing at the burning on my skin. I needed to clean up before it caused further injury. I stood to leave, carefully avoiding the shattered pieces of glass and the already spille
HIS TOY Fifty Seven
OWEN WINTERS The deal with the Russians went well as planned, but there was another problem… but that wasn't difficult for me to handle. Lucille Gates. I sat alone at the bar when the Russians had left, partly drunk, and partly sane. Checking the time on my wrist watch, I decided that I needed to get home earlier so as not to get an earful from Amelia. No, my pumpkin. I chuckled at the thought of her reprimanding me as I stood to leave. Lucille Gates stood not too far away from me, her innocent look made me sober up a little. “Did your father invite you over?” I asked but didn't wait for a reply.“He left not too long ago and the party's over,” I said, trying so hard to stay sober, but then I felt something change in my thinking. I knew Mr Gates drugged my drink, but which kind of drug made me feel hot and in need for sex? “What do you want? Seems you're not here for a party,” I questioned, feeling my cheeks grow red. She gulped and timidly walked towards me, her hands trembl
HIS TOY Fifty Six
OWEN WINTERS Mornings were usually the same routine for me, clean, cook, work… but today seemed especially different, in a good way. Amy was somewhere around the house drafting another terrible email (she wouldn't find out how terrible they were from me) to the house of Rodriguez, while I dressed ready for another work. My plan about the ammunition sold to the Russians worked well except they wanted a negotiation this time around. Father would've gone for the so called negotiation, but he was enjoying his old age in one country I still didn't get the name. I wore a blue Armani suit and stared at my reflection in the mirror for what looked like five minutes. I did my hair in short curls, and bit my lips. Just as I turned to leave, Amy barged into the room, her face red from fury. Another rejection. I thought, rubbing my fingers together and waiting for her to lash out, but she didn't. Instead she slumped on the bed and let out an exasperated sigh. “She rejected it. What the
HIS TOY Fifty Five
AMELIA XAVIER When one is tasked to do something, and it becomes her responsibility, a role she's playing for the effectiveness of whatever goal it is, but then two roles conflict and it leads to stress and… I opened my eyes, Owen lay beside me, his arms around me. It made me feel safe, even though it was morning. The sun had risen, casting lazy light through the window. I could tell by the way Owen breathed, he was really stressed and of course didn't have work today.I faced him, my fingertips trailing his lips. He looked like a baby when asleep, but I knew who he really was considering we did similar business. My smile softened as I played with his tangled hair. My eyes went to his lips, they were lustful and it created devilish scenes in my head.These wild thoughts early this morning. Gawd! Kiss him. I thought, my eyes still on his lips, but when he bit his lips, I knew he was fucking awake. “I was actually waiting for you to kiss me, since you're so good at making the firs
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