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F*ck And Get Paid
Last Updated:
2025-07-30 20:21:03
Latest chapter
His Plaything I Paid For This
[Bianca]I wanted to hurt Dante.Not argue. Not scream. Not cry.I wanted Dante Wentworth to feel the same sharp, breath-stealing sting he'd left in my chest. I wanted his throat to tighten and his pulse to hammer in that cold, unbothered body of his. I wanted him to know what it felt like to watch someone he thought belonged to him be touched, wanted, claimed—right in front of his eyes.He didn't give a rat's ass about who I kissed, right?But I wasn't sure if I could even pull it off.Giovanni's hand was still loosely holding my elbow, his brows knit with faint concern. He hadn't let go since I'd bumped into him in the hallway. I had barely registered his words, but his warmth—his attention. I needed it.I swallowed, pushing back the lump in my throat, and managed a tight, "Bad timing."He shook his head, lips quirking faintly. "No such thing as bad timing with you, Bianca."My fingers brushed his chest, curling into the lapel of his suit as I heard Dante's voice somewhere around th
His Plaything F*ck And Get Paid
[Bianca]It had been two days since Dante told me not to leave the house. Two days of pacing from room to room, trying not to stare at the spot on the kitchen counter where that box had sat.And on the third day?He simply got up, got dressed, and told me we were going to work together. No explanation. No mention of Malcolm's head anymore. No questions about how I'd been sleeping, which I had barely, thank you. It was almost like the scene hadn't happened.Sometimes, I couldn't tell what Dante was thinking. Still, I knew one thing: he hadn't taken that threat lightly. Malcolm had been with him since he was just a kid. There was no way a loss like that didn't shake something inside him. He was just... holding it somewhere deep. Letting it ferment.I was still trying to decide if that scared me or impressed me.Now I was in the hallway between the men's and women's restrooms, washing my hands in the shared marble sink. The building's design was too sleek for its own good—unisex common
His Plaything They Know Where We Live
[Dante]The call was dragging.I adjusted the phone between my shoulder and ear, my fingers absently toying with the edge of my bandages beneath the shirt. They itched like hell, but my wounds had mostly healed. What I couldn't get used to was being out of commission—watching my empire tick on without me, like my presence mattered far too little. Every email, every hesitant voice over the phone kept asking if I was "well enough to weigh in"—it got under my skin."Yes, I'm aware of the delay, Gerald," I said, keeping my voice level. I wasn’t apologising or asking for his consideration. "No, you don't need to put it through a third-party vendor. We own the ports. Just reroute through Marseille."The man mumbled something about shipment caps and regulations, but I'd already tuned out. My gaze drifted toward the hallway. The house was quiet—too quiet. Bianca was home, somewhere in the villa, but I hadn't heard her voice in nearly an hour. No footsteps, music or rants? That was odd.Usual
His Plaything No Loose Ends
[Giovanni]The estate was cut off from the rest of the city. Gated, high stone walls, and teeming with security. I glanced back to watch Bianca speaking with the security and showing her ID before they let her in.Which meant that getting in wouldn't be impossible.It just required an invitation from a resident.My lips tugged into a smile as I turned away and buried my hands in my pockets. I began walking towards my 'actual' apartment which was in a different direction from what I'd shown her.I reached into my pocket and pulled out a half-melted chocolate candy, unwrapped it like I had all the time in the world, and took it in my mouth.'Bianca.'I rolled the name around in my mind while my tongue played with the candy.She was nothing special—a dull woman who had nothing but her looks and unbelievably blue eyes. I'd expected to have a harder time getting acquainted with her. She wasn't my target, but I often enjoyed the build-up before the kill—especially when a woman was involved
His Plaything Good Wine, Bad Timing
[Bianca]I never liked grocery stores.Too many eyes. Too many little reminders that I hadn’t lived a “normal” life in over five years. Still, there was something oddly nostalgic about being inside one again. That—and wine didn’t magically restock itself. Dante’s bar was off-limits since he’d seen how I got when I was drunk. And from his words, ‘he didn’t have the energy to babysit a drunkard.’I almost rolled my eyes at the irony since I was babysitting a grown ass man.Personally, I had a soft spot for red wine. The lighter kind. Stronger liquors and I didn’t exactly get along. So here I was—shades on, hoodie up, trying to act inconspicuous in the dimly lit liquor aisle.I picked up a bottle of red. Italian. Seemed expensive enough and Dante’s card was mostly limitless. I gave the label a half-hearted scan, then—because the universe had a personal grudge against me—I dropped it.The bottle didn't shatter, but it made a dramatic enough thud as it rolled past my boot. I scrambled to g
His Plaything The Bounty Hunter
[Giovanni]I was whistling a country tune when the blood finally stopped leaking from the sink. Warm water washed over my hands in soothing little swirls, pink-tinted and oddly calming. I liked this part—clean hands, clean mind. My sleeves were already rolled up to the elbows, though the cuffs of my white shirt had long been decorated with blood spatters that weren't mine. I twisted the faucet shut and reached for the towel hanging from the oven handle.Behind me, someone groaned.A wet, throaty kind of sound. Like someone trying to swallow pain but failing miserably. I smiled to myself, drying each finger meticulously before sliding on my black leather gloves, one by one. I took my time. Good art often calls for patience.On the kitchen counter sat a small, dark chocolate coloured suede pouch. I flipped it open gently. Inside, nestled in neat rows like precious instruments, were my scalpels—different shapes, different edges, all polished to a fault. I admired them for a moment. So d
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