His Plaything のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 69

[Mr. Wentworth]Hehe...It had been far too long since Dante let me out. The poor bastard had been slipping lately — all thanks to her. Bianca. His precious little blonde weakness.I should have killed her already. The deal was for her to find a way to make Dante slip more often, wasn't it? She failed her end, and I always collect. But I didn't like rushing. Death was quick. Destruction was... sweeter.The only reason I had any freedom at all was because she'd cracked Dante's perfect façade. The great Dante, reduced to a panting, drugged-up animal rutting to forget his misery. He couldn't even get hard without chemical help now. Ha! All those years of self-control, undone by a woman.Pathetic. Laughable. But far from enough.When Dante numbed himself with pills, I waited. Whenever he slept, I woke. But that meant our body never got enough sleep, never stayed at its peak. Even now, I was far from being in peak condition.He thought wearing himself out would cage me but all he was doing

[Dante]I sat behind my desk, staring at nothing in particular. The stack of files in front of me hadn't been touched in hours. I wasn't even sure why I bothered showing up today. My head wasn't here. My body was, but my mind was somewhere else entirely.The one question that should have come sooner finally hit me:'What the hell was I even doing?'I hadn't come into the office for days, hiding behind a flimsy excuse of being sick. In truth, I'd been strung out—too many pills, too much booze, chasing a high I thought would smother everything I didn't want to feel. It was pathetic. Embarrassing even.And Bianca had seen me like that.Fuck.The last time I saw her, she'd come by my place. I'd been high, half gone, trying to act like nothing was wrong. I thought I'd managed it. I thought I'd fooled her. But the memory wouldn't let me lie to myself anymore—my pulse had jumped the second I saw her, my chest tight and I knew saying too much would have given it off. She must have noticed. O

[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

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

[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