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Just This Once
Last Updated:
2025-05-12 02:56:36
Latest chapter
His Plaything Who Took My Bianca?
[Dante]People always knew when I arrived somewhere—mostly because I never arrived anywhere unannounced.I preferred meetings on my turf, conversations on my terms, and people on my schedule. So the look on George Whitford's security guard's face when I randomly showed up without a word said enough.Thankfully, I didn't need to start explaining who I was. Not after I'd been the one to find him a place to stay for the period of our business. Hence the security was somewhat familiar with me.George's house was loud from the outside—music, laughter and the noise of splashing water. Exactly the sort of environment that would give him an erection and give me alongside his neighbours a headache.I stepped into the open courtyard and stopped.I'd expected chaos, but not this.George strolled out of the poolside like an overfed Roman emperor—wet, bronzed and sporting nothing but an obscenely tight swimsuit he had no business wearing in public. His arms were draped around two bikini-clad women
His Plaything Two Suspects
[Dante]Somehow, I'd spent the last few hours in the station.My lawyer arrived twenty minutes later, but it didn't stop the officers from picking at me like hungry dogs circling a wounded animal.They kept their voices and words mostly professional but the way their eyes kept drifting over my file said everything: They'd already made up their minds."Mr. Wentworth," one of them said, tapping the thick folder with the back of his pen, "your record doesn't do you any favours."I kept my face blank. Still hated being addressed that way."My record," I repeated, leaning back in the chair. "You mean the one you keep misinterpreting?"My lawyer shot me a warning look, subtle but clear 'Don't antagonise them.'Why shouldn't I? Weren't they doing the same thing?The detective across from me pushed the file toward me, as if I needed proof of the life I'd lived."History of violent behaviour. Anger issues. A psychiatric evaluation at—""That was years ago," I frowned and my lawyer continued."
His Plaything You Remind Me Of My Mother
TRIGGER WARNING: SOME READERS MIGHT FIND THIS CHAPTER SLIGHTLY DISTURBING. (No Rape. No Violence)***[Bianca]When I came to, I was slouched upright on a couch. I could tell we weren't in the same apartment anymore.The air didn't smell like mould and bleach this time — just new furniture, coffee, and faint detergent. The curtains were heavy, beige. And though my limbs still felt sluggish, the pins and needles had begun to fade. Slowly, painfully, I was starting to feel myself again.Giovanni had knocked me out mid-drive just to keep me from knowing the way to his new place and its exact location. And ever since I came to, he had been in the bedroom for the last half hour, pacing and yelling into the phone.At first, I thought he was arguing with someone local—but then I realised he wasn't speaking English at all. It sounded like Italian. The words came fast and I couldn't understand a single one, but I didn't have to. His tone said everything.He was angry. Furious, even. Maybe fro
His Plaything We Might Have A Problem
[Dante]The pounding at the door didn't stop."Police! Open up!"For a moment, I didn't move. The disconnected static of the phone still rang in my ear, my pulse still syncing with the caller's last words.Then the knocking came again, harder.I exhaled slowly and went to the door. When I opened it, several officers stood on the porch, away from the drizzle, their uniforms wet. Behind them, a patrol car idled at the edge of the drive, lights flashing red and blue across the marble steps."Mr. Dante Wentworth?" one of them asked, his tone clipped and official."Yes," I said evenly.The older officer stepped forward, holding out a folded document encased in a plastic sleeve. "We have a search warrant for the premises."I studied it without taking it. "Search warrant," I repeated. "For what exactly?"He cleared his throat. "Evidence relating to the possible homicide of one Malcolm Lee."For a few seconds, the words lingered between us.Malcolm.The same man whose head had been delivered
His Plaything Murder Mystery
[Dante]"What? What do you mean?"The words came out sharper than I intended, but I was already sitting upright in bed, a frown spreading across my face.The voice on the other end of the phone was calm and professional. My private hand—a detective, fixer, dirt-digger, whatever label fit best—never wasted a breath. He said Bianca had booked a flight for this morning but never showed. No record of her boarding. No trace of her at the airport after check-in.I rubbed at my temples, trying to process, but he wasn't finished.He went on about the accident. The truck. The one that had rammed into my car that evening when Bianca was with me. Turns out it hadn't been an accident at all. The driver cracked under pressure, said he'd been paid to shadow my vehicle and hit us when given the chance. Apparently, it was an anonymous hire and he'd been paid in cash. The choice given to him was simple—take the money and carry out the task, or his family would pay instead.My jaw locked.The first th
His Plaything A Menace To Society
[Giovanni]I couldn't get a proper read on him. Not the way I wanted.Did he know about my little encounter with his alter ego, or was he still blissfully in the dark? Dante's face gave away nothing. His reactions were too controlled, his expressions too faint. No hint that he suspected me, or that he knew who I really was.Which only confirmed what I'd already begun to suspect—Mr. Wentworth was the dangerous one. Dante? He was the dull half. The boring one.Still, I hadn't expected him to apologise or even ask about Bianca.Lucky for him, my first delivery was probably already making its way to his doorstep.By then, we could talk once more.The door clicked shut behind me, muffling the sound of his voice as he made some calls. I didn't bother listening.I walked down the hall with my hands shoved into my pockets, wearing that same polite mask people liked so much. A nod to the receptionist, a quick smile to the guard by the elevator. "Have a good day," I said, because that's what ni
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