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lumiambrose · 4 months ago

Text

✰ the winning hand

kinktober 24 - day twelve

featuring: aventurine x f!reader

summary: you were taken by surprise when the aventurine of the ten stonehearts requests a private match from you. although, a gamble with him requires high stakes, and even higher rewards.

tags: smut, gambling, praise, degredation (if you reaaally squint), p in v, cunnilingus, use of sex toys, public sex, petnames (sweet girl, pretty, doll), not proofread (i drank too much last night mb fam)

wc: 2.2k

“so the winner of this next round takes all?” you clarify, unsure if the man in front of you has gone insane.

“spot on, pretty. if you win, i’ll be your loyal servant for the rest of the night. although if i win… you’ll be mine.” yeah. he’s lost it.

you’re currently in a private sector for the eclipse’s executives. it’s slightly elevated from the rest of the floor, almost like a private balcony with a gorgeous view of the grand casino. how you ended up here? you don’t even know. you were sipping on a sweet cocktail when aventurine, one of the ten stonehearts, requested a game from you. his assistant didn’t give you time to react as he led you away from the central casino and toward a far more private, lavish, hall.

ever the gentleman he is, aventurine picked you up there and stole you away to the balcony you now find yourself at. seeing as it was too late to decline, you figured you should get the most out of this experience as he explained the rules to you.

a standard game of poker shouldn’t be too hard, right? is what you tell yourself, despite struggling immensely against the man in front of you. you’ve only won… twice? out of the many rounds you’ve played and you’re getting worried, you can’t keep losing like this. almost on cue, aventurine suggests one final round to decide the winner, which is how you’ve ended up in your current predicament.

you eye the cards in your hand, desperately trying to keep your expression neutral. aventurine lounges across from you, one arm draped over the back of the sofa, his other hand casually toying with his chips. he’s confident. too confident.

“ready, pretty?” he’s teasing you at this point. the dealer, not making a sound, reshuffles the cards before sliding them your way. you glance at your hand and immediately regret your decision, but you don’t lose hope just yet.

the dealer reveals the first three cards on the table: jack of diamonds, queen of clubs, seven of spades. your stomach drops. aventurine smirks. it’s over.

with a hand like this, you shouldn’t even bet, but you go all in anyway, hoping the bluff works. of course, it doesn’t. he meets your bet, then raises.

the final card flips. king of hearts.

aventurine reveals his hand—ace and ten.

a straight.

you blink, stunned. aventurine leans forward, that damn smirk widening, “looks like you’re mine now.”

this was it, your fate had been sealed. only god knows what this man has planned for you. you let out a long sigh, accepting your defeat before locking eyes with him, waiting for his orders.

with a quick snap of his fingers, the dealer leaves the room, disappearing through the door without a word. “stand up,” you oblige, adjusting your short dress and hair as you rise from your chair, facing him. he does a one-over on your body, taking in every inch and curve, staring like a starved man.

the room suddenly feels much smaller as you’re left in aventurine’s company. he’s still lounging on the sofa before you, but this time, a more terrifying aura radiates from him.

his next command is simple. with a predatory smile and commanding tone, he orders, “your panties, take them off.”

for a second, you thought you didn’t hear him right. you hesitate for a moment, but the look in his eyes leaves no room for argument. slowly, you reach through your skirt, your hands trembling slightly as you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and push them down.

he holds out his hands, glancing at the panties before his gaze shifts back to you. you hand them to him as a blush creeps up your cheeks. his hand grazes yours as he takes them from you, stuffing them into his pocket with a victorious smile playing on his lips.

“oh, one more thing,” he reaches over to a small box resting on the table, opening it and taking out a small vibrator. “you’re a smart girl so i’m sure you understand what i’m getting at. if you manage a few games without cumming, i might even reward you,” he coos. “you like the sound of that, doll?”

even if you wanted to refuse, you know you couldn’t. begrudgingly, you put the vibrator in your, now naked, pussy, letting out a soft sigh as it enters you. as much as you should be disgusted right now, you’re filled with nothing but adrenaline facing the man in front of you. the fear that you once had now slowly turning into excitement.

he sets up the next round of poker, shuffling a new deck of cards and sliding some your way. “no need to bet with chips anymore, if you manage to win as much as one game, i’ll make sure you’re cumming on me tonight.” his voice suddenly shifts into a darker tone “although, if you fail… we’ll keep up this little game of ours until you're begging on your knees for me.”

the hums of the vibrator fill the room as he turns it on from the small remote in his hand. any fear you should’ve felt from his threat going straight to your core, letting out a small moan at the danger.

the next few hours we’re nothing but agonising pain. you played his cruel game, as he abused the power he had over you, making you crumble for him. you were close? too damn bad, he turned the vibrator off, leaving you whimpering in agony. you tried bluffing? he saw right through it and set the vibrator to pulse inside of you, only switching it back to normal once you confessed your lie. sometimes you’d even be so distracted by the sweet pleasure between your thighs that your hand would accidentally slip, giving aventurine a complete view of your cards. but lady luck was on your side today as somehow, somehow, you beat him. maybe he let you and you didn’t notice as you were too distracted by the vibrating pleasure or perhaps you just got lucky. either way, you celebrated your victory, excited for what came ahead.

“congratulations, sweetheart,” he leaves the sofa for the first time tonight, slowly approaching you. “i’m a man of my word,” he kneels in front of you, pushing your legs apart. “i won’t stop until you’re cumming all over my tongue.”

without any further warning, he removes the vibrator, leaving you empty, only to replace it with his tongue.

he eats you out like it’s his last day alive. sucking, biting and slurping on your pussy. “so good,” he muffles, “you taste so fucking good.”

he continues to lap your folds, stuffing your cunt with his tongue and sometimes nibbling on your clit. he’s so shameless too, not attempting to hide any noises he makes while drinking you up. the longer he eats you out, the more dissolved his words get. filthy encouragements and teasing praises slowly turning into incoherent babbles, growling against your cunt. each vibration going straight toward your impending orgasm.

“you close, pretty? can feel you shaking around my tongue,” he says with one last lick on your folds before you come undone all over his face. your orgasm hits you like a wave, your juices crashing down on aventurine’s mouth.

he pulls back, slowly rising from his knees. “fuck– you taste divine,” he licks any excess juices from his face, “could eat this pretty pussy every day.” he grabs your hand, pulling you up from your chair and bringing you to the sofa he was once lounging on, “but that wouldn’t be any fun now, would it?” he bends you over with your back to the casino table, giving you a perfect view of the central casino.

“try not to attract too much attention, sweet girl.” with that, he hikes up your tiny dress and enters you in one slow, painful thrust. you moan at the sensation, definitely attracting a few curious eyes from below, but you’re in to deep to care anymore. he lets out a sigh of relief as he bottoms out, feeling your tight cunt already squeezing him.

“hah– so tight f’me,” he started to rock into you at a slow pace, taking his sweet time destroying you. as much as he desperately wanted to give into his primal urges, rutting into like there’s no tomorrow, he wanted to keep his promise. he wanted you to completely come apart on his dick, turning you into his little fucked-out doll. his one hand rest on your hip, keeping him steady as he moves inside you while the other snakes its way down to your clit, teasing your overstimulated bud.

the pleasure is overwhelming, leading you closer to your orgasm by the second, moaning out praises for the blonde behind you. “aah~ so good– i’m so close!” you can barely get the words out, but once you do, he can’t hold back anymore. “gonna make a mess on my dick, pretty?” he speeds up, thrusting at a faster pace, fingers working harder too.

“you close, doll?” he vibrates against your ear, “that’s my good girl… go on, cum on my dick, make a mess for me.”

that was all it took to push you over the edge, you clenched him tightly as your second orgasm hit you. moaning out his name as you gripped the balcony railing, letting yourself come undone for him. it didn’t take him long until he was also reaching his high, swiftly pulling out and releasing his cum all over your ass and back, staining your dress.

after he releases his grasp on you, you collapse on the sofa, breathless and still sensitive from the little game you both played. he takes his place next to you, moving your legs to rest on his lap. “looks like your dress is stained,” he traces a line down your leg. “give me your number. i’ll arrange a replacement.”

after exchanging numbers, you clean yourself up as much as possible before heading to the exit.

“oh, and sweetheart,” he calls out to you before you can leave. “call me when you want your rematch.”

taglist: @ryescapades @iamjellyfish @143-ilyuu @maruflix @pixelcafe-network

©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

#✰ ─ the devils month #ambrose.fics #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #hsr smut #hsr x reader smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x reader smut #honkai star rail smut #aventurine smut #aventurine x reader #aventurine x reader smut #aventurine hsr #aventurine x reader

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coco-loco-nut · 20 days ago

Text

High Stakes

pairing: lando x reader

summary: Lando can’t help but to fall for his teammates elusive childhood friend

masterlist requests open

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You strut out of the casino eyes locked on your phone as you change your flight back to Australia. The casino threw a few perks at you, and who are you to say no to free stuff. You don’t even notice as you walk into a brick wall, or someone built like a brick wall.

“I’m so sorry,” you quickly stuff your phone into the black Birkin on your arm. The bag is a contrast to the champagne dress that glitters under the city lights.

“No that was my fault,” you look up, the sound of another Australian voice piquing your interest.

“Australian?” You ask, watching the man study your face.

“Y/n? Oscar,” he says, your face lighting up.

“Osco, I didn’t realize you were in Vegas. What are you here for?” Oscar was your best friend when you lived down the street from him. You moved to a different town a few years later, losing touch quickly.

“I’m a race car driver, what are you doing here?” Oscar notes the clothes your wear, the same designer brands he sees WAGs wear in the paddock.

“Oh, you still race? That’s so cool. With, um, Daniel Ricciardo?” you try to pull a name from the back of your mind.

“I actually replaced him, he’s retired now,” Oscar spares the messy details since it’s pretty clear you don’t have a vested interest in motorsport.

“Oh, that’s sad. Hey, it was nice seeing you again,” your goal is to hit the club you frequent in Vegas, and you only have so long before the line gets too long and won’t let you in.

“Right, yeah, enjoy your night,” Oscar watches you walk away, looking like the opposite of the girl he used to play in the dirt with.

“Miss L/n,” the bouncer smiles, taking your tip as you bypass the line. Taking your phone out of the purse, you leave the purse at a bag check, the staff knowing to take care with it and they get a nice reward. You only come here after winning big anyway - and you ALWAYS win big.

You slide onto a stool at the bar, catching the bartender’s eye. He’s the reason you frequent this one in particular. He makes a mean drink and is quite pleasant to look at. He picks up a liquor bottle, winking at you down the bar.

“Welcome back, this one’s on me,” he slides a cocktail to you before going to serve another customer. Maybe tonight you will actually give him your number, but the cat and mouse game you have going is too much fun.

The cocktail is fresh, something you haven’t tried before. It’s like a mix of some of your go to’s. You finish it quickly, craving the pulse of music.

“Going so soon?” the bartender asks as you slide a five to him.

“I need to dance. I’ll be back,” your sly smile makes his eyes follow you as you exit to the main club.

You find the bar once again. The one with the shitty liquor that serves everyone’s main goal. Getting shitfaced. You order two green tea shots, the familiar set of the local dj calling you to the floor.

“Your shot is on me,” a British man, or boy based on his height and struggle to grow facial hair, says as he slides beside you. You raise your eyebrow, passing one of your shots to him. You can sacrifice the buzz you are chasing for an adventure.

“Cheers, but I think you owe me another round now,” your eyes sparkle like the dress you are wearing. The man’s eyes rake your body as you throw the shot back. He quickly follows suit before ordering another round.

“Anything for a beautiful woman like you. I didn’t expect to see an Australian in the States. What’s your name?” he says, filling the time as you wait for the shots.

“I didn’t expect to see a Brit, but here we are,” you smile, unwilling to give your name until he gives his.

You take the next round quick, itching to dance.

“Lando, mate, the team is waiting on you to do the round- Y/n?” a familiar face appears beside you once again. Lando, the boys name is Lando.

“Twice in one night, are you stalking me Piastri?” you tease.

“No, we are here celebrating with the team. This is where you were in a rush to be?” Oscar asks and you nod. Lando looks between the two of you confused. Of course his teammate knows the Australian he just met.

“I always come here when I’m in Vegas. What’s next, Osco? You’ll be in Monaco next week?” you laugh. Oscar realizes how little you really know about racing or him.

“Not next week, no,” Lando answers. For a minute you forgot about him.

“We need to get back to the team. Want to join us?” Oscar asks you, a little disappointed when you shake your head.

“I need to get on the floor and dance. I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” you walk off towards the crowd of moving bodies.

“How the hell do you know her?” Lando watches you leave.

“Old friend, we were best friends for a few years before she moved away,” Oscar explains. Maybe third time will be the charm in getting your number so you can actually stay in touch. Lily has asked about you when looking at old childhood photos.

“She’s hot,” Lando comments, following Oscar back to the team.

“I couldn’t tell you the first thing about her anymore. I looked her up on the way over here and nothing came up. No socials or anything,”

“Odd,” Lando shrugs. An hour later you are back at the bar, and Lando strikes again.

“Do you travel a lot?” Lando asks and you nod.

“Yeah, when I’m not in Australia I travel for work. About a month ago I was in Singapore, around Marina Bay, and before that Macao. London, Paris, and Sydney are other places I frequent,” you tell him, shame letting your eyes roam his body, the top buttons of his shirt undone.

“I travel a lot too,” Lando takes a step closer. one goal in mind.

“I should start visiting new places. You know, I’ve never been to the middle east,” you wave your hand, thinking it would make your statement bigger.

“You should come to Abu Dhabi, Osc and I will get you a paddock pass. You’ll be in Monaco for a couple weeks, right?” Lando asks and you nod.

“Yes, but I was planning on going back to Australia after,” your eyes narrow, unsure at what he’s getting at.

“I’ll be flying to the race from Monaco, why don’t you join Oscar and I on the flight there and fly back to Australia with Oscar?” Lando offers. You turn your attention to your phone, Lando fears he lost you.

“Give me your number, I’ll let you know tomorrow once I am sober,” you hand your phone to him, allowing him to enter his details.

“Everything ok?” Oscar asks, startling Lando as he returns your phone to you.

“Yeah, Lando just invited me to Abu Dhabi,” you turn to Oscar, extending your hand to him. “I’m going back to the casino hotel, let’s stay in touch this time,” you watch Oscar quickly make a contact for himself, sending a text so he has your number as well.

“Do you want me to walk you back?” Oscar asks, concerned.

“Enjoy your party, I’ll be fine,” you let your drunk impulse take over, hugging the shy man before strutting away to get your purse.

“I wish I knew more about her. She’s so different from the girl I grew up with. I’m sure my sisters or mom could tell me,” Oscar says, watching you leave. You don’t even stumble, despite mixing heels and alcohol.

“I think she works for casinos. She mentioned traveling for work and everywhere she goes there are a lot of them,” Lando guesses. Oscar shrugs.

“I’ll ask around,” Oscar replies, turning your words over in his mind.

You thought about moving to Monaco, you love it when you are in the small country,but you can’t seem to permanently leave Australia. Monaco always treats you well, yacht parties mixed with rides around the city in expensive cars, not to mention all the money you win. It really is a tempting move. Maybe one day.

Lando picks you up outside the hotel, his chauffeur takes care of your luggage while you slide into the back. Oscar and Lando were very helpful in planning the last minute trip, despite the racing and team meetings.

“I got you a gift,” Lando hands you an orange bag. You open it and pull out a shirt and hat.

“Thank you so much. Orange isn’t usually my color-“

“Papaya,”

“But I will definitely wear it during the race. Thank you,” your brow furrows at the interruption as you carefully place the clothing back into the bag.

“It’s not orange, it’s papaya. McLaren is very insistent on that. It’s my hat and Oscar’s jersey,” Lando says, watching you tuck the bag beside your feet.

“I see,” an easy conversation falls between you as you approach the airport. The private jet awaits. Oscar is already inside when you arrive.

“Welcome aboard,” Oscar greets you as you settle into a seat. Some more people who you don’t know join the flight.

“Carlos, this is Y/n. She’s Oscar and I’s friend,” Lando says as the man extends his hand to you. You shake it, examining him.

“Nice to meet you,”

“How do you know them?” The Spaniard asks you.

“I grew up with Oscar and ran into him in Vegas. Lando invited me to Abu Dhabi,” you simplify the story.

As soon as you reach cruising height, Lando pulls out a case from a closet.

“Do you like playing cards?” he asks you, setting the black leather case onto a table.

“Occasionally, I love solitaire,” you sit down beside Lando.

“Name of the game is Texas Hold‘Em,” Lando sets it up as the group buys in. You look at your cards and the people around you.

You fold early despite your very good hand, needing to tank yourself.

“Let me take a look at that,” Lando says at the end of the round, checking your cards. “You had a straight, you should’ve stayed. It would’ve won,”

“It would? Silly me, I guess I’ll have to learn as I go,” you bat your eyes. A little lying to get some action never hurt anyone.

“I can teach you,” Lando wraps an arm around your shoulder as Oscar clears his throat.

“That would be unfair, don’t you think?” Oscar says, unsure why he’s feeling protective over you. Maybe it’s because of Lando’s womanizing reputation and you being an old friend.

“It would, we can’t do that,” you agree. You easily win the next three rounds.

“What a comeback, quite impressive,” Carlos says as you collect the money at the center of the table.

“Beginners luck,” you shrug coyly. You purposely lose the next two, going all in on a pair of three’s, an awful hand. It kills you to sandbag, but it would be very suspicious if you were annihilating the group. Then the game comes to a small break for drinks and for Oscar to use the restroom, you quietly flirt with Lando. Carlos declares himself out, choosing to nap instead.

“My offer for lessons still stand,”

“Oh? How would we go about those,” you ask, brushing your leg against his while you gently set your hand on his bicep.

“You, me, and a game a strip poker in my room tonight,” Lando suggests, eyes darkening a little as you lean closer.

“Sounds marvelous.” your devilish smile sets Lando’s mind racing as you turn towards Oscar to talk.

“Why are you pretending to not know how to play?” Oscar arches his brow at you. Slowly but surely, it’s like the two of you never moved away from each other.

“It’s fun. I don’t know how to play that well anyway,” you smile, playing off your lie.

“He’s my teammate, you know,” Oscar’s voice has a tone that warns you not to fuck up.

“I know, Osc. It’s harmless flirting. Besides, I’m not in the right place to start anything serious,” you shrug, knowing Lando’s reputation.

“Does he know that?” both of you glance at Lando who stares like a lost puppy dog.

“I’ll make sure he knows, don’t worry,” you promise as Lando calls both of you back into the game. Fifteen minutes later, Oscar folds.

“It’s just you and me now,” Lando says, both of you with an even amount of earnings.

“Don’t hold back on me,” you bat your eyes innocently as you get your hand. Oscar peeks over your shoulder, watching the cards.

“Don’t you dare fold,” Oscar hisses, you feign confusion and nod.

“Let’s see your cards,” Lando says, laying his down first after your final bets. You checked him, not wanting to discredit your lie.

“Is this good?” you ask as his eyes go wide.

“Holy shit, yeah. You won, four of a kind,” Lando pushes the money towards you.

“No, I couldn’t. You keep it. I’m well enough off anyway,” you give him the money, not really interested in the winnings of a one hundred euro buy in.

Lando starts to protest, but you move from the table to your seat before he can get a word out. You put on your headphones and pull out a book. Oscar follows Carlos in the pursuit of sleep. Two hours down, six more to go of the flight.

You feel a presence beside you and look up from your book.

“What’s up?” you ask, pulling an earbud out, marking the page of your book and setting it down.

“Everyone’s asleep,” he whispers. You glance around the plane as he inches closer to you. You feel his hand brush against your arm.

“Lando,” your breath hitches, his face close to yours.

“Let me kiss you,” he says, your head tilting up against your better judgment.

“We can’t do this,” you whisper, lips almost brushing his.

“Why not?” you get the sense that he doesn’t care as your head starts to spin and there is a strange pull between you.

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” you state.

“Good, this is just a bit of fun, right?” his hand runs up and down your leg as you fight your body from getting closer.

“Right,”

“So kiss me,” Lando’s voice is breathy as he connects your lips. You pull back as you feel yourself losing control.

“Lando, we can’t, not here,” you shake your head, trying hard not to be pulled in by his puppy dog eyes and curls.

“Ok, what if we talk instead?” he sits back in the chair. You let him ramble, feeling yourself start to drift off. Lando notices you yawn as you try to carry on the conversation.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so tired,” you apologize, shifting in the seat to a more comfortable position.

“It’s okay, planes always put me to sleep too,” Lando doesn’t take your sleepiness to heart.

“Wanna listen to music?” you ask, pulling out your headphones. Lando simply nods, taking an earbud from you.

He feels a light weight on his shoulder a few minutes later. A quick glance tells him that you fell asleep. Lando can’t stop the butterflies in his chest. A beautiful woman is unintentionally using him as a pillow, it’s natural. He will never admit that he has a crush, but he wishes that you didn’t insist it is all for fun. Lando knows that Oscar doesn’t trust him with you, despite your recently rediscovered friendship. He will just have to prove it.

Unfortunately for Lando, you see more of Oscar and less of Lando during the weekend. You also left earlier than planned, citing a family thing that needed you back in Australia.

Oscar talks to you frequently, but you don’t show to a race. Lando asks questions, and even finds your social media, but it’s private and Oscar gives vague answers. It is nearly a year until Lando sees you again in Singapore.

Oscar and Lando are exploring Marina Bay when a casino advertisement catches Lando’s eye.

“Osc, is that-“

“Y/n,” Oscar finishes Lando’s sentence.

“Play where champions play. Poker champion? I thought she didn’t know how to play,” Lando reads the ad and your description. You started playing some public tables and tournaments in the past year, the sponsorship and casino money was alluring. You play private tables most of the time, but a tournament or two never hurts.

“I guess we were wrong,” Oscar stares at it.

“She lied to me,” Lando is shocked, he thought you had some natural talent, but you let him teach you. He feels a little stupid.

“She lied to all of us. It kinda explains why she never told me how she got rich or what her job is,” Oscar frowns, watching as security exits the casino to escort a guest in from the black SUV.

Without thinking, Lando moves towards the entrance. “Y/n!” he calls out to you, watching your head snap over in surprise. Oscar approaches Lando, staying a few steps behind.

“Lando? Osc? What are you doing here?” you ask, the security silently encouraging you to keep walking.

“We have a race-“ Oscar starts, but you cut him off.

“Don’t stand there, follow me in,” you tell them before saying something to the security. Whatever you said, it lets Lando and Oscar get near you.

“You have better security than we do,” Oscar says.

“Well, the casino wants to protect its assets,” you shrug.

“I think you have some explaining to do,” Lando seems off, colder than usual. You glance around.

“Not here, in my suite,” you say, leading the way to one of the best rooms available.

Lando and Oscar gape at the opulence, it’s nicer than their rooms.

“You are here for a race?” You ask as you pour a glass of water.

“Yeah, do you want a pass?” Oscar asks without a second thought.

“Sure, maybe I’ll bet on you to win,” you smile, crossing the room to take a seat.

“Why are you here?” Lando asks, first Vegas an Monaco, now Marina Bay.

“Work. I’m playing a few tables and a tournament for sponsorship purposes,” you lean back in the chair, not sure of how much you should say.

“I thought you didn’t know how to play?” Oscar looks between you and Lando, curious at the standoff and tension between you.

“I lied. I only recently started playing public games,” your eyes narrow a little, gauging the room.

“Why?” Oscar asks, bringing himself into the conversation.

“Why I lied or why I only just started playing publicly?” you don’t get an answer so you choose to answer both. “I lied because I wasn’t comfortable with my career and I didn’t want to be judged,” your arm raises to scratch your neck, an emotional cue that you haven’t been able to stop yourself from doing. “I also didn’t want to embarrass you. I only just started playing publicly for more money and casino sponsorship,” you watch their reactions, crafting your words carefully based on the small cues they give you.

“So what do you do exactly?” Oscar pries.

“I play card games and casinos invite me to play worldwide. It attracts regular people to have high caliber players in house, and the expensive tables are lucrative for me. It’s simple marketing,” Lando looks at you, the wheels turning in his mind.

“So you do work for the casinos?” he asks, wondering if his first guess from when he met you was right at all.

“You could say so, yeah, in a way,” you look between both of them. “Any more questions?”

“How did you start?”

“I just kinda fell into it. Picked up a lot of games quickly and had natural luck and talent,” you answer, you seem so nonchalant about it.

“How rich are you?” Oscar knows he probably shouldn’t ask, but he’s curious anyway.

“I am not answering that,” you laugh, almost affronted that he would ask. “Let’s just say, I could retire right know and live very comfortably for the rest of my life,” you answer. It helps that you’ve made some very good investments over the year to build your net worth. Even if you lost money on an expensive buy in, you’d be well off.

“Holy shit,” Lando whispers, glancing at Oscar who meets Lando’s eye. There’s a subtle shift in the air. The way they look at you now is different. It’s like even though they knew you were rich from how you dressed, they didn’t know how so it was pushes aside. Now it matters to them. This is the reason you don’t tell people. Not because they are likely to ask for money, it’s the judging. Like the way you earn your living makes you a bad person.

“Look, if you guys want to judge, that fine. I made my money legally and that’s what matters to me. Now, if you will excuse me, I am contractually obliged to make an appearance and play a public table,” you stand up, resolute in yourself and the choices you’ve made with your life. If they judge you or want to act like they don’t know you going forward, that’s their prerogative. Lando and Oscar watch as you leave, one security guard remaining by the door to escort them out.

“Should we follow her?” Lando asks, feeling like they’ve fucked up. They didn’t have to say a word, the way they reacted told you enough.

“Yeah,” Oscar stands, a pain in his chest at how quickly you turned cold. “There’s a reason she keeps people at an arms length, I think we are that reason,” Oscar murmurs, the shame setting in.

“Can we watch her play?” Lando asks the guard as he brings them back to the main floor.

“Yeah, check the map over there,” the guard points to a wall, leaving Oscar and Lando to fend for themselves. They stay silent as they walk through the casino, finding the poker tables. A small crowd is near yours spectating.

“Why didn’t she tell us from the start?” Lando asks quietly as they approach.

“I assume she doesn’t want people to ask for money, same reason we don’t always disclose our career,” Oscar shrugs, he knows he’s wrong but doesn’t want to admit it.

You are sitting at a 1,000/2,000 no-limit game of hold'em. Typically you would be at a super high roller table, in a fancy room, schmoozing with execs and other professional players. But this is a business appearance, and all you have to do is win a few hands then you can leave the table.

“Maybe. Maybe she thought that because we were rich, we would understand and wouldn’t judge. We are her friends,” Lando’s voice cracks slightly, they stay silent as they are within earshot of the table.

They lean against a railing, separating the few people near them from you and the table.

Oscar feels bad for the people brave enough to play you. Your eyes are cold and calculating, not one muscle on your face moves as you observe. You slowly build a depth of knowledge about your opponent’s, balancing poker strategy with the emotional game. It’s impressive.

“She’s like a strategist and driver combined,” Oscar murmers, barely loud enough for Lando to hear. Lando simply nods in agreement as you toss a coin into the pot, calling the bet. You are not only doing the strategy that a team would do for Lando and Oscar, but the emotional game that Lando and Oscar do when driving.

“This is so hot,” Lando whispers as you seem to win with ease. Luck seems to naturally fall to you, but it’s just skill. You glance up from the little bubble of the game, noticing Lando and Oscar watching, but you make no indication of it.

“There’s been rumors that she is going to join a professional tour,” someone beside the two drivers says, quiet enough that it doesn’t disturb the game, but loud enough that it catches Lando and Oscar’s eye. So you were serious about being more outward about your career.

Lando and Oscar are gone by the time you leave the game, and you aren’t surprised. You don’t stick around, you just collect your money and retreat to your room. Typically you would indulge in the amenities that the casino has to offer- the bar, restaurants, spas, etc. When you get to your room, there is an envelope near the entrance. You open it and find paddock passes for the weekend. Your hand shakes slightly as you pull them out, a frown settling on your face.

Despite your better judgment, you show up to the first free practice. You don’t wear the gear that the boys got you, opting for a neutral outfit.

“Y/n L/n! I’m Zak Brown, CEO of McLaren Racing,” a man extends his hand out to you. “I’m a huge fan so I was thrilled when your agent reached out to request paddock passes,” your eyes narrow slightly in confusion. You don’t have an agent. He does look like he would follow the poker world though, and your emergence into the public tables has been a hot topic recently.

“Thank you for having me,” you shake his hand. He turns and waves a hand, your eyes follow his motion.

“These two are our drivers, Lando and Oscar,” Zak introduces you but you don’t offer a hand to shake, keeping them folded in front of your chest. Oscar’s heart hurts, a year of rebuilding the friendship washed away.

“We will show her around,” Oscar offers, having some free time.

“Thank you, Oscar,” you ignore Lando, finding it harder to forgive him. You’ve known Oscar for longer, which makes it easier, even if it shouldn’t.

“Right, I’ll see you later,” you don’t dare to look at him, his dejected voice tells you enough.

“I’m really sorry, I was just stunned. It’s not really a career you think about,” Oscar starts, knowing you’ve already had a tour of the McLaren area.

“I take it you are my so-called agent?” you ask, ignoring his apology.

“Guilty. I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just wanted to give you the option of acting like you don’t know us, in case you needed space,” you nod at Oscar’s words, processing them with every step around the paddock.

“I talked to Lily. I’m sorry for storming out on you abruptly. I realize that it was a complete one eighty from how I was moments prior. You weren’t the one judging, and I overreacted a bit,” you take a deep breath, offering an apology of your own, one specific to Oscar.

“You think you overreacted because you were scared of being in that position already. You had a right to remove yourself from the situation, and I’m sorry I had a part in it. You are my friend, and that is more important than anything else,” Oscar bolsters you, and reiterates his apology.

“Thank you, it means a lot to have you as a friend,” you open your arms slightly, inviting your typically stoic friend in for a hug. Oscar carefully wraps his arms around you, not much of a hugger.

“Should we talk about the other elephant-“

“Nope,”

“Gotcha. Want ice cream?” Oscar asks as you stand outside of Ferrari.

“Always,” you tentatively follow him inside.

“I was jokingly adopted by Charles, now I get to come in and get ice cream,” Oscar shrugs, explaining as if it’s no big deal. You are out as quickly as you went in, but you acquired your target.

“Some fans posted photos of Lando and I leaving the casino, we got asked if we had gambling addictions,” Oscar tells you between bites.

“Really?” you choke back a laugh. “What did you tell them?” you ask, curious as to how they played it off.

“We said that wanted to see if it was like the casino in Percy Jackson,” you shake your head, taking another bite of the ice cream.

“Well, that’s one excuse. By the way, are you even allowed to have ice cream right now?” you ask, realizing that he’s probably on a diet.

“No, but it’s worth it. You’d be surprised how often drivers break their diets. It’s not like major, just a little cheating,” Oscar waves it off. By the time you return to McLaren, it’s like nothing happened between you. “I’ll be back in a minute, wait here,” Oscar says, leaving you at a couch while he disappears into another room. Lando takes the opportunity to pounce, sitting in the chair closest to you.

“Y/n? Can we talk?” you feel your heart freeze. You turn your head away from him slightly, staring out the window. “Please?” his voice breaks, and you silently look at him. You don’t say a word, but he takes the bit of attention you’ve given him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I judged you when you offered your trust. I hurt you in a vulnerable moment, and I know that it’s hard to forgive in moments like that,” Lando shifts closer, but still keeps some distance.

“I expected more from you,” the words sting as you look back towards the window. Lando looks down at his hands for a moment before he looks at you again.

“Yeah. I know. I never wanted to ruin what we have,” your head snaps over to stare at him.

“There is no we. We kissed once, and it didn’t mean anything. I don’t know where you got that idea from,” you practically seethe and Lando is afraid he poked the bear.

“Right,” Lando whispers. He knows his reputation. One he’s wanted to change since meeting you, but you don’t know that. “You’re right, I misspoke,” Lando says even if it kills him to. “I just meant that we had a friendship starting and I was excited to get to know you more,” he covers his butt, telling you what he thinks you want to hear. You don’t expect it to hurt, but it does.

“It takes more than that. It will take time and effort,” you don’t know why you are making him work for it, but the words feel right. Lando’s eyes light up a little, there is a chance. Maybe he can find a way to win you over, but there is one big obstacle in the way. The one standing in front of him. Oscar.

“We have to get ready for our first practice session. Feel free to take food or drinks,” Oscar tells you, silently telling Lando to leave. You give Oscar a nod, letting him know you are okay.

Surprisingly, it’s you who finds Lando next. It does take until after the second free practice, Oscar and Zak kept you busy. You can’t help but feel a little guilty after sitting with your thoughts. He’s in a quiet spot, leaning against a railing. You wouldn’t have known it existed without Oscar unintentionally giving it away. The secluded spot is invisible to the rest of the paddock and cameras, perfect for being alone. It’s odd, seeing him so quiet. You stand beside him, a decent amount of space between you.

You can tell he knows you are there, but neither of you speak. It’s an odd comfort, standing in silence with someone whom you admittedly don’t know that well. Your silent standoff, like a game of chicken, ends when Lando unintentionally steps closer and you take the first metaphorical step.

“One chance. One shot to earn a fragment of my trust back,” you murmur into the darkness, eyes trained on the night sky above. You didn’t think you would care, that you could dismiss him like every other guy who hurt you before. You didn’t expect to feel guilty.

Lando doesn’t hesitate, pulling you into a kiss. It’s different than the one shared on the plane. This is tender, unrushed, nearly a year of yearning being poured into it. His hand finds your neck, fingertips in your hair as you melt into the kiss. The other hand finds itself on your waist. You may not know where you stand with him or your readiness for any semblance of a relationship, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Lando gently pulls away to breathe, his eyes searching yours as his hands keep you close.

“I’ve spent the last year trying to be better, to strengthen my relationships and working on myself to be worthy of you. You made me want to be better, even if you didn’t want me. I don’t know where you stand as compared to last year, but I want you,” he stresses his last word, driving it into your soul and it hits you. He doesn’t care what you do for a living, if you are rich or poor, or even that Oscar is likely your closest friend. He likes you enough to want to better himself.

“Lando, I-“ the words leave your mouth before you begin to think.

“Shh, don’t say anything unless you mean it,” he stares into your eyes, igniting a fire deep inside. Something shifts with that fire, a stone building your resolve.

“Fuck it,” you whisper, allowing yourself to be pulled back into Lando’s orbit. His soft lips kissing you once more - this time with more passion yet just as soft as before.

“We can take this slow, at whatever pace you need,” Lando promises against your lips. He feels like if he lets you a step further away, you will disappear for another year.

The rest of the weekend passes by with stolen glances, quick kisses in hidden corners, and the thrill of brushing hands. You feel like a school girl, but this time you and Lando agree to keep in touch and already have dates planned.

Keeping it quiet only lasts until the end of the season. You couldn’t hide it from Oscar or keep it a secret, so you were upfront with the truth - things are starting to turn serious.

You are in Monaco when Lando returns from Abu Dhabi. You spent the week setting up your new apartment, choosing a cheaper place. It helps you feel like you aren’t wasting money when traveling.

A knock on your door prompts you to pause your music, rushing towards the door while trying not to hip check one of the boxes in your living room.

“Surprise!” Lando grins holding takeout bags in his hands.

“You weren’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow!” you throw your arms around him, taking in the moment.

“I got an earlier flight, didn’t feel like partying two nights in a row,” he says into your shoulder before stepping out of the hug and into the apartment. He looks around, setting the bags on your wooden dinner table. “This looks so much nicer than when we tour it,” Lando compliments your hard work. The lighting is soft and inviting, plush rugs adding a coziness that makes him want to snuggle under a blanket on the couch that looks perfect for a nap.

“Thanks, it’s really coming together,” you smile, there are a lot less boxes, most just decoration that need placed. You help Lando with the dinner, settling in on the couch to eat. Lando was right, the couch is incredibly comfortable and soft.

“So I was thinking, my friends do this card game night a couple times a year, and I want you to join me, if you’d like,” Lando proposes between bites, locking eyes with you.

“You want me to meet your friends?” you nearly choke on your food. Sure, Oscar knows that you and Lando are seeing each other, but that’s it.

“Well, I’d really love for you to meet them as my girlfriend,” Lando studies your reaction. The way you instinctively school your face to not give a reaction before your brain reminds you who you are with, then a smile creeps onto your face.

“I would love to meet your friends as your girlfriend, but this isn’t you bringing me with you as an advantage?” you ask just to be sure and because you are still processing that he asked you to be his girlfriend.

“Well, it is a plus, but I just want them to know how awesome you are and rub it in their faces,” Lando sets his food on the coffee table and moves closer to you so your knees are brushing.

“Lan,” your voice is soft, overjoyed at the thought. You set the food aside and lean in to kiss him.

“So, what do you want me to do first?” Lando looks around the room at the boxes, ready to help with whatever you need.

“Lando, you just finished your season. Don’t worry about the apartment,”

“I want to help my girlfriend set up her new home,” he insists.

“Well, in that case, let’s start… in the bedroom,” your sly smile turns to a grin as Lando chases you into the bedroom, his arms wrapping around your waist to pick you up and carry you to bed.

You lay under the sheets together, bodies pressed against each other, the darkness of the room inviting for deep conversation.

“Why weren’t you ready when we first met?” Lando asks the question that he’s wondered since seeing you in Singapore.

“Every guy who I got close to, every friend I made, always did one of two things: try to use me for my money, and or ghost me because they thought I was a criminal,” you admit, allowing yourself to come to terms with it. You answer a question Lando never dares to ask aloud - why Oscar and Lily seem to be your only friends. His heart hurts for you, you don’t deserve that treatment, even if he hurt you in a similar way before.

“There is nothing wrong with your career. You play legally and honestly, no one has a right to judge,” Lando reassures you, you whisper thanks and savor the comforting silence of the room.

Lando rarely leaves your apartment those few days, only going to retrieve the essentials. Now you sit in his friends apartment, liquor flowing as you are deep into the card games.

Lando whispers in your ear, a mixture of flirting and telling you to stop sandbagging yourself. His leather jacket covers your shoulders, he claimed to be too warm with it on while you were a little cold in your t-shirt.

“Read it and weep,” you show your hand, grinning as the boys groan and Lando laughs. He wishes real money was being spent, you already ran a couple of his friends out of the game - including himself.

“Where did you find her? She’s much better than you,” one of the guys teases Lando, who wraps an arm around your chair. Your cheeks flame a little as you nod in agreement.

“It isn’t hard,” you laugh, swatting Lando’s hand away as he lightly pinches your shoulder.

“Didn’t any of you do a background check on my girlfriend? You need to learn from every girl group ever,” Lando shakes his head, placing a soft kiss behind your ear.

“Hm, we do tend to know everything about a guy our friend is seeing,” you hum.

“Detectives, all of them,” one of the guys agrees as another is furiously google searching you.

“Holy shit. You are so much cooler than he is,” another tells you, making your cheeks even more red. Lando captures the moment in his memory, how adorable you are when you blush.

“I make more than him, so he’s my WAG,” you tease as an outlet for the mix of embarrassment and flattery.

“And I’m proud of it,” Lando doesn’t lie, he would rather be your WAG than have any other girl by his side. Another round gets dealt and you hone in on the game.

“You’re so sexy when you play wearing my clothes,” Lando whispers in your ear and it takes every bit of willpower in you to not react. It’s like a game to see how far he can push your limits. “I can’t wait to take you home,” he says before resting his chin on your shoulder, his hand moving down to rest on your hip.

The alcohol in your veins makes it hard for you to control yourself. His jacket weighs heavily on your shoulders, as he continues to whisper his plans for you later that night. Your skin is alight as his fingers trail the bit of exposed skin at your hip.

You fold, having a bad hand and your mind spinning with desire. A fake yawn gives Lando a cue to cut in.

“I am afraid it is past our professional’s bed time,” Lando’s eyes shine playfully as you avoid the smirks on his friends faces, the ones that tell you they know why you are leaving.

“Well, this isn’t a casino, no need to be up this late,” you yawn again, playing along as you stand. Lando gives his goodbyes as you exchange the always awkward ‘nice meeting you’s’.

You hand is warm as your fingers interlock with Lando’s. He leads you down the stairs and out to his car, giggling as you tell him to slow down before he breaks an ankle. Pure bliss is how Lando would describe it. Just the two of you in the empty street, stars twinkling in the night sky, Lando pinning you against his car with your hands around his neck. You would give anything to stay there forever.

#f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagines #lando norris #oscar piastri

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chiffxna · 4 months ago

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A Love Too Dark (07)

The Marquis Vincent de Gramont x Reader

Chapter 07: Control Over Her

WARNING: THIS IS A DARK FIC.

This story will contain 18+ mature themes, blackmail, forced kissing, dark romance, toxic behaviour, blood, violence, stalking, manipulation, a lot of smut, dubious consent, non-consensual content, non-consensual creampie, breeding, yandere Marquis de Gramont, power play, and power imbalance, obsession, dark Marquis de Gramont, and abuse of power. The list will be added more as the story progresses. Minors, don't read.

Story Masterlist

PREV : Chapter 06

NEXT : Chapter 08

Chapter Summary:

The Marquis finally coerced her to return to the casino. However, what would happen when a VIP requested her service privately?

As the first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, the room was bathed in a soft, golden glow. Yn’s eyes flickered open, and for a fleeting second, peace washed over her. She could almost forget. Almost. But reality crashed in swiftly, the weight of it smothering the brief tranquility. The Marquis lay behind her, his arm draped across her like a chain.

Her heart sank.

The air felt thick, oppressive, as though his mere presence poisoned every breath she took. She shifted slowly, careful not to stir him. Her body, stiff with discomfort, recoiled from the memory of the night before. Silently, she slipped from the bed.

Standing, she fought the urge to shudder.

She wandered to the window. Parting the curtains just a fraction, she gazed out at the morning sky. It was beautiful. Pale streaks of pink and orange bled into the horizon. But her heart, heavy with turmoil, barely registered the view.

A glance back at the bed. He was still asleep. Her resentment flared like a slow-burning fire. She despised him – his power over her, his manipulation, his arrogance. He had taken everything. Her freedom. Her choices.

But she couldn't show it. Not yet. Any slip, any sign of defiance, and it would spell disaster. Not just for her, but for her family. The consequences were too great, the stakes too high. So, she swallowed her anger.

With a deep breath, she got ready for the day. Quietly, she gathered her things. Slipping out of the room, Yn left the Marquis behind. She knew better than to wake him. For now, she had to bide her time and wait for the right moment to make her move. Today was not that day. He was dangerous, too cunning to make a mistake around. She couldn't afford to let her guard down.

First, she went to check on Sydney. She found her younger sister still wrapped in her blanket, a soft smile on her face, caught in a happy dream. Yn lingered for a moment. That innocent smile – it was the one thing in her life that gave her hope. She quietly closed the door and moved to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

The scent of eggs and toast filled the small apartment, and soon enough, Sydney emerged from her room, eyes bleary but filled with that sweet, childlike innocence Yn was so desperate to protect.

“Good morning, sissy!” Sydney chirped, rubbing her eyes as she padded into the kitchen, her face lighting up at the smell of food.

“Morning, sweetie,” Yn replied, forcing a smile.

As she set the plates on the table, she hesitated. What about the Marquis? Part of her wanted to leave him out, to send a silent message that she wouldn’t be controlled, that she still had some semblance of power in her own home. But the fear crept back in. The consequences of such defiance? They were too high.

With a deep sigh, Yn set a third plate for him. Her stomach twisted in knots as she did so. Sydney cocked her head to the side and asked innocently, “Is the prince still with us?”

The title her sister used cutting through her like a blade. Prince? The very word dripped with irony. There was nothing princely about him – at least not in the way a child would think. But how could she explain that to Sydney? She couldn’t shatter her illusions, not yet.

Yn mustered a weak smile, choosing her words carefully. “Yes, Syd. He’s our guest.”

Sydney beamed, seemingly satisfied with that answer, and returned to her breakfast, blissfully unaware of the storm that churned beneath the surface. Yn, however, couldn’t shake the unease. It sat in her chest like a stone, heavy and unmoving. She kept her movements steady, trying to appear calm, though every second felt like the tension in the room was growing, thickening the air around her.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the Marquis finally emerged from the bedroom.

The room seemed to shrink as his presence filled it. Yn's heart kicked against her ribs. He moved with a lazy confidence, the kind that only came from someone who knew they held all the power. Carelessly unbuttoned at the collar, his white shirt revealed a glimpse of his chest. Black pants hung perfectly on his tall frame, and though his hair was slightly tousled, it was clear he had paid just enough attention to his appearance.

Dominance. That was the only word to describe it. His mere presence dominated the space, like gravity itself had shifted in his direction.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with the ease of someone who had slept well. He slid into a chair, his gaze landing briefly on Yn before settling on Sydney.

“Good morning, prince!” Sydney greeted with a radiant grin, utterly oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around her.

“Morning,” Yn murmured, barely above a whisper, her voice tight in her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.

In her usual way, Sydney broke the silence with her innocent questions, her curiosity bubbling over. “Did you have a nice sleep?”

The Marquis chuckled softly. He looked at Sydney with an almost amused glint in his eye. “Yes, little mademoiselle. Your sister was very welcoming and hospitable.”

His tone dripped with layers of meaning that only Yn could detect.

She stiffened. It took everything in her to keep her face blank and her hands from trembling as she reached for a glass of water. She knew exactly what he was doing – asserting his power in front of Sydney, weaving his control into even the most innocent of moments.

But Sydney didn’t notice. She giggled and her eyes shone with pride. “Sissy is the best! She always makes sure everything’s perfect.”

“Indeed,” the Marquis said smoothly, his gaze sliding back to Yn, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “She takes great care of me.”

Yn swallowed hard; her throat dry. She wanted to scream. Wanted to throw something, tell him to leave and never come back. But she couldn’t. Not yet. The walls were closing in, and Sydney’s bright face kept her anchored. It kept her from breaking.

Once he swallowed a spoonful of his breakfast, the Marquis continued, his voice smooth and calculated. “But it saddens me to see you two live like this. If you want, you and your sister are welcome to stay at my mansion anytime you like.”

Yn’s stomach twisted at his words. She knew exactly what he was doing. An invitation wrapped in the guise of kindness, but the truth lay beneath it: control. Her gaze shot to him, sharp and full of warning. Her glare was meant to send a message, to make him understand that bringing Sydney into his world was out of the question.

But the Marquis merely smiled, his eyes locking onto hers with a dangerous glint. A challenge. He saw her resistance, and it only seemed to amuse him.

The rest of breakfast dragged on. Yn kept her responses short, barely offering more than a nod or a non-committal hum. She needed to keep her distance, both physically and emotionally. The last thing she could afford was to be drawn into his web, no matter how alluring his offers sounded.

But Sydney, completely unaware of the tension swirling between the adults, hung on the Marquis’s every word. Her wide, innocent eyes sparkled as he told stories of grand halls, gardens that stretched for acres, and rooms filled with treasures. Yn could see the excitement building in her sister, making her stomach churn even more.

She clenched her fists under the table, fighting the frustration and helplessness bubbling inside. How could she protect Sydney from the Marquis’s influence without revealing too much? If she spoke out, if she showed even a hint of defiance, he could retaliate. And she couldn’t risk that. Not when they were so deeply entwined in his game.

So, she smiled. She pretended. Just like she always did.

As breakfast ended, the Marquis dabbed his mouth with a napkin, his movements slow and deliberate. He leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving Yn. “Thank you for the breakfast.”

Yn nodded stiffly, not trusting herself to speak. She kept her eyes down, focusing on clearing the plates.

The atmosphere in the small apartment shifted abruptly as a series of muffled knocks echoed through the narrow hallway. The sound was soft, almost hesitant, yet it carried a weight that set Yn’s nerves on edge. It was the kind of knock that didn’t belong on a quiet morning like this.

The Marquis’s brow arched as his attention flicked toward the door. A flicker of something – curiosity or annoyance – passed over his face before he muttered in his low, accented voice, “It must be him.”

Something in the way he said it, the ease with which the words fell, made Yn’s skin crawl. He rose smoothly from his chair, his movements fluid, his clothing draping elegantly over his tall frame.

Yn’s eyes followed him, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t like this. Not one bit. Who was it? What did they want?

She instinctively moved closer to Sydney, placing a protective hand on her sister’s shoulder. Sydney, oblivious, was still humming softly to herself, engrossed in her teddy bear.

The Marquis reached the door and turned the handle. Standing on the other side was Chidi, the Marquis’s loyal bodyguard. His expression, as always, was unreadable. Stoic. The man was built like a fortress, solid and imposing, yet his movements were precise and controlled. Even now, his posture spoke volumes – ready, alert, as though prepared for whatever threat might come his way.

The Marquis exchanged hushed words with Chidi in rapid French. Yn strained to catch even a sliver of their conversation, her ears almost aching with the effort to understand. But the language barrier left her feeling helpless. What were they discussing?

As the conversation between the two men came to an end, the Marquis turned his gaze back toward Yn and Sydney. His eyes lingered on Yn a moment too long. It made her skin crawl.

“I’m afraid I must take my leave,” he said.

Before Yn could fully comprehend what was happening, the Marquis closed the distance between them in just a few strides. His sudden approach caught her off guard, and for a moment, she stood frozen, her body stiff with uncertainty. She didn’t know what to expect. But the look in his eyes told her it wouldn’t be good.

And it wasn’t.

In one swift, shocking move, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was brief, but it caught her off guard. It wasn’t affection – it was possession. Pure and simple. A calculated display of dominance that sent an icy chill down her spine.

Yn’s entire body tensed, her hands trembling at her sides. It was over as quickly as it had begun, but the stain of it lingered on her lips, filling her with revulsion.

As he pulled away, his eyes locked onto hers, a satisfied smirk curling at the edges of his mouth.

“Don’t forget about tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with a menace that made her skin crawl.

Yn’s heart stuttered in her chest as his words sank in. Tonight. She knew exactly what he meant. The reminder slammed into her like a blow. The casino. The bunny-girl costume.

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and left the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. His departure left a vacuum, an uncomfortable emptiness that filled the room, thick and suffocating. The air felt heavier. Everything did.

Yn stood there; still, her mind racing to catch up with the flood of emotions that had overwhelmed her. Fear. Anger. Helplessness. And beneath it all, a burning desire to break free. But how? She couldn’t see a way out. Not yet. Not with the Marquis holding all the cards. Not with her mother and Sydney to protect.

Unaware of the tension swirling around her, Sydney looked up at Yn with wide, innocent eyes. “Is the prince coming back, sissy?”

Yn forced a weak smile, which felt more like a grimace beneath the surface. “I’m not sure, sweetie. But for now, let’s... go back to normal, okay?”

Normal. The word tasted bitter on her tongue. What was normal anymore? Their lives had been upended, twisted into something unrecognizable since the Marquis had forced his way into it. But for Sydney’s sake, she had to pretend. Keep the darkness at bay just a little longer.

She took Sydney to the park that afternoon. They laughed and played, and for brief moments, Yn lost herself in Sydney’s joy. Her little sister’s laughter was like a balm, easing the raw fear gnawing at her insides. But even then, the weight of what awaited her that evening hung over her like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over every smile, every carefree moment.

As the sun dipped lower, casting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Yn’s heart began to race. She had to return to the casino. The Marquis’s demand weighed heavy on her, pulling her back into that world she had fought so hard to escape. But there was no running from it now – not with her mother’s safety on the line.

Back at the apartment, Yn prepared dinner, her hands moving mechanically. She couldn’t let Sydney see her anxiety, couldn’t let her little sister feel the weight of the impending night. Sydney, so innocent, didn’t deserve any of this.

Once dinner was done, Yn excused herself and stepped into the bedroom to make a call. Yn called Barbara again, asking her to care for Sydney for the night. Barbara was surprised since it had been a while since she needed this kind of help. When she asked Yn what she would do that evening, Yn said she had some personal business to attend to.

Once Sydney was settled in with Barbara, Yn finally left the apartment. The evening air was cool and refreshing as she made her way towards the casino. As she approached the imposing building, she took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.

As Yn entered the staff lounge room, every staff member was dumbstruck to see her. The news of her supposed resignation had spread like wildfire, and her reappearance was met with astonishment and curiosity. Her close friends at work – Emily, Emma, Amelia, and Sophia – rushed to her side, each eager to know what was happening.

Eyes wide with surprise, Emily was the first to speak, “Yn, we thought you had quit! What are you doing here?”

Yn smiled, trying to maintain her composure. She didn't want to reveal too much, so she replied vaguely, “I had some matters to attend to, but I'll be back for a while.”

Emma couldn't hold back her curiosity. “But why did you quit all of a sudden?”

Yn took a moment to collect her thoughts before responding, “I... I had my reasons, but things have changed. I guess I'm not ready to leave just yet.”

Amelia, ever the empathetic one, touched Yn's arm gently, “Are you okay, Yn? Did something happen?”

“It's nothing, really. Just some personal matters to sort out.”

With a knowing glint in her eyes, Sophia tilted her head. “Hmm. Well, you know we've got your back, right? Whatever it is, we're here for you.”

Yn felt a surge of gratitude towards her friends. “Thank you, Sophia. I appreciate it.”

“But you didn't have to come back, though.”

They all turned their gazes to Sabrina, approaching them with her arms crossed over her chest. Her nose was in the air, and she looked at Yn with a condescending stare, as if she were a pest in her way. “We were doing fine here. You should stay on your word about quitting.”

Yn frowned at her sudden display of hostility towards her. Emily was the one who spoke up, “Oh, shut up, Sabrina. You were hoping the Marquis would turn to you after she left?”

Sabrina's face flushed with anger. “Don't be ridiculous, Emily. I think it's strange that Yn suddenly decides to come back after causing such a big scene here.”

Yn's eyes blinked in puzzlement. “A big scene? What?”

Amelia shook her head. “It's nothing, Yn.”

Sophia intervened, trying to smooth things over. “Yeah, don't pay any attention to Sabrina. She's just jealous that you got the Marquis' attention.”

Yn frowned, still not fully understanding what had transpired in her absence. Suddenly feeling guilty that her departure had caused such a stir, she said, “I didn't mean to cause any trouble.”

Emily reassured her, “It's not your fault, Yn. Sabrina is just being petty.”

Sabrina scoffed. “I'm not being petty! I don't like people who make a big fuss and then change their minds. It's annoying.”

Emily looked at Sabrina pointedly. “Yn is entitled to change her mind if she wants to. It's her life and her decision.”

Yn took a deep breath, trying to stay composed. She didn't want to argue with Sabrina, mainly when her mind was preoccupied with the Marquis and her predicament.

“Look, I didn't mean to cause any trouble,” Yn said firmly but calmly. “I have reasons for returning, and I hope you can respect that.”

Sabrina huffed, clearly unsatisfied with Yn's response, but she didn't press further. Instead, she turned on her heel and walked away, muttering under her breath.

The tension eased as Sabrina left, and Emily immediately spoke to her, “Don't mind her, Yn. She's just worried that now you're back, the Marquis will only look at you and not her.”

Sophia said, “Yeah, she was trying hard to get his attention when you were gone.”

Emma apprised Yn, “That first night when we all found out about your resignation, most of us had left after finishing our shift, but Sabrina stayed back, and I saw her try to enter the Marquis' office in her bunny costume. But the bodyguards then yanked her out of the room. It was amusing!”

Yn couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the image of Sabrina's failed attempt to get the Marquis's attention.

“Well, I guess she's determined,” Yn said, trying to lighten the mood.

Amelia grinned, “Determined or desperate, which one?”

Emily commented, “Desperate.”

Yn shook her head, still finding it hard to believe that her absence had caused such a stir. “I never imagined my resignation would cause so much drama.”

Emily reassuringly touched Yn's shoulder, “Don't worry about it. We're just glad to have you back.”

“Thanks,” Yn said sincerely, feeling a warmth in her heart. She was grateful for her friends' support and understanding.

“Come on, get ready, girl,” said Emily as she pulled Yn towards the latter's previous makeup table, “No one took your desk after you resigned.”

As Yn sat down at her old makeup table, a wave of mixed emotions washed over her. Returning to this space felt strange, surrounded by the soft buzz of chatter and the clatter of heels on the tile. On the one hand, she was grateful for her friends’ warmth and support, as if they were a small lifeline in this oppressive environment. But on the other hand, the weight of the Marquis’s control pressed down on her, heavy and unrelenting. She was back here not by choice but because she had been coerced. She had no way out.

Her fingers moved automatically, picking up the makeup brush and dipping it into powder. She began the process of transforming, painting on the familiar bunny-girl persona like armor. Layer after layer, she covered her natural face with the mask of someone who smiled, laughed, flirted – played the part perfectly. Her friends helped her, zipping up the tight costume, adjusting the fit, and joking lightly to ease the tension.

But none of them could ease what lay in her heart.

Once the makeup was done, Yn stood before the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at her. She looked polished and perfect – precisely how she was expected to look. Yet, beneath it all, she felt hollow.

Emily grinned as she handed Yn a black mask. “Don’t forget this.”

Yn took the mask, its meaning heavier than the simple piece of fabric it was. She tied it around her face, covering her nose and mouth, the final touch of her disguise.

As the soft fabric settled, Yn felt a slight sense of relief. At least with the mask, there was a barrier between her and the invasive eyes that would soon be watching her. But the mask couldn’t protect her from the real danger – the Marquis.

“Let’s go,” Emily said, pulling Yn out of her thoughts and toward the door.

The women left the changing room, their heels clicking against the floor as they made their way into the buzzing, neon-lit heart of the casino. The sound of slot machines, the low murmur of conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air, but Yn barely registered it. She felt as though she were walking through a fog.

Yn took her place behind the roulette table. The game was already in full swing, and she immediately slipped into her role, spinning the wheel and calling out the results in a practised professional tone.

As Yn presided over the roulette table, her hands moved deftly, spinning the wheel with practised ease. Each spin of the wheel, each call of the winning number, was mechanical. Her mind was somewhere else—locked in a place where the weight of the Marquis's threats loomed large. But she couldn’t let it show. Not here. Not now. She had to stay focused, had to maintain the illusion that everything was under control.

Then, something caught her attention. A man approached, well-dressed in an impeccably tailored suit. His blue eyes were warm, and his dark hair was styled into the kind of cut that spoke of money and power. His smile was genuine and eager, and he touched her shoulder lightly as he approached.

“Yn!” he exclaimed, his voice smooth and confident. “I thought you were done with this place!”

Yn looked up, recognizing him immediately. Mr. Gabriel – a VIP client she had serviced in the private rooms before – one who had always been generous with his tips and polite with his conversation. Unlike many others who frequented the casino, Mr. Gabriel had never crossed a line.

“Mr. Gabriel,” she replied, her smile automatic, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “So nice to see you again. I had my reasons for leaving, but... circumstances changed.”

He nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I’m glad you’re back. I’ve had a few sessions with the other bunny-girls, but... their hands aren’t as skilled as yours.”

Though modest, Yn smiled, her fingers guiding the roulette wheel expertly. A faint blush crept to her cheeks, but she kept her voice humble. “I appreciate the compliment, Mr. Gabriel, but that’s quite an overstatement. The girls here are all very talented.”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice in an almost conspiratorial way. “No, no. That’s where you’re wrong. You’re different. You don’t do it for the same reasons as the others.”

His words caught her off guard, and for the first time that night, Yn felt a genuine warmth. “Thank you, sir.”

Mr. Gabriel glanced at the roulette table, realizing he had interrupted her work. His expression shifted to something more apologetic. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pull you away. I know you’re busy. But, once you're done here, I was hoping you'd join me in the private VIP room... as usual.”

Yn’s eyes blinked. Spending the night with Mr. Gabriel in the VIP room would mean avoiding the Marquis, at least for a while. The thought of not having to face the darkness lurking in the corners of the casino, of spending time with someone respectful, made her feel lighter, even if only temporarily.

The decision was easy.

“Of course,” she replied, her smile widening. “I can meet you after I finish this round.”

Mr. Gabriel grinned, clearly pleased. “Great. I’ll be waiting.”

With a nod, Mr. Gabriel walked away from the roulette table, leaving Yn with a strange relief. She had always found comfort in his presence, knowing he was one of the few clients who treated her with respect. Unlike the more predatory men who haunted the casino's corridors, Mr. Gabriel was safe. Kind. His company meant she could avoid the Marquis for the evening – an escape, however temporary.

As soon as her shift ended, Yn made her way toward the private VIP room, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. The deeper she ventured into the private section, the louder the sounds became – soft jazz music floating through the air, the murmur of voices, and the faint clink of expensive glasses being filled. The unmistakable smell of cigars, rich and sharp, curled through the hallway.

Yn reached the door and took a deep breath before she entered. As expected, Mr. Gabriel was already inside, seated comfortably in one of the plush chairs. He smiled warmly when he saw her, a lit cigarette hanging between his lips. The smell of burnt tobacco hit her immediately, and her nose wrinkled instinctively, though she quickly masked it with a polite smile.

Mr. Gabriel noticed. His eyes crinkled in an apologetic smile, and he raised one hand slightly.

“Ah, sorry for the smoke,” he said, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and extinguishing it in the nearby ashtray. “I forgot you’re not a fan of cigarettes.”

Yn shook her head, waving it off. “It’s fine, sir. Really.”

She appreciated his thoughtfulness. In her world, that kind of consideration was rare. Most men with his wealth and power didn’t bother with the comfort of others, especially not with the girls who worked here.

Mr. Gabriel’s eyes lingered on her face, unblinking, and for a moment, Yn wondered if she had said something wrong. The sudden silence between them felt thick, almost heavy.

“Yn, if it’s not okay, then it’s not okay,” he said, his voice taking on a quiet seriousness. His gaze remained on her as he settled back into the couch. “If it’s a no, it’s a no. You can be honest when you need to.”

The words hit her with a gentle force, unexpected yet comforting. In a world where her voice was often silenced or ignored, where her boundaries were blurred, his words carried a kind of weight she hadn’t experienced before. She wasn’t just a girl playing a role in front of him – she was a person. And he saw that.

“Thank you,” Yn whispered, her voice softer than intended. She looked away briefly, trying to gather herself, before meeting his eyes again.

Mr Gabriel’s smile returned, his entire demeanour softening at her response. “You’re welcome. In this line of work, you’re expected to please your clients, to ensure they’re satisfied. But your safety – your comfort – should always come first. If something’s wrong, if you ever feel unsafe... say no. Scream it if you have to.”

His words were a balm to the gnawing fear living in her chest for so long. The fear of the Marquis. The fear of what each night could bring. And even though Mr. Gabriel’s kindness couldn’t erase the danger she was still facing, it gave her a slight sense of hope. A reminder that not everyone in this world is cruel.

Yn nodded; her heart full but her voice steady. “I will. Thank you.”

“The smell will linger for a while, sorry about that,” Mr. Gabriel said as he shrugged off his blazer and loosened his necktie. “Now, if you don’t mind, the usual, sweetheart.”

Yn returned his smile, her movements calm and practised. She walked behind the couch where Mr. Gabriel had settled, his white button-up shirt still ideally in place. He seemed to melt into the plush cushions as she positioned herself behind him, her hands gently resting on his shoulders.

With practised ease, Yn began to massage him, her nimble fingers working over the knots of tension in his muscles. Her touch was a careful balance of firmness and gentleness, something she had perfected over time. The soft strains of jazz music filled the room, blending with the low hum of conversation from the far-off casino floor, creating a calm and intimate atmosphere.

Mr. Gabriel sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as he savoured the soothing sensation of her massage. “Hmm, like I said, no other bunny-girl here can massage like you. You’ve got the perfect balance of gentleness and firmness.”

Yn smiled softly at his words, though she focused on her work. “Thank you, sir. I’ve had plenty of practice. Used to massage my mom all the time.”

Mr. Gabriel let out another satisfied hum but soon grew quiet. Yn noticed the change immediately. Though still under her touch, his body felt heavier with the weight of whatever was on his mind.

“Now that you mention it,” he began, his tone laced with frustration, “it stresses me out whenever I think about my daughter.”

Yn’s hands kept moving, but she listened carefully, as always, when he opened up about his personal life. She had come to learn that, beneath Mr. Gabriel’s polished exterior, there was a man weighed down by the complexities of his world.

“She’s become so spoiled,” he continued, shaking his head slightly. “She’s in high school now, and just two hours ago, she called me. She said she was ‘stressed’ and needed money to go on a vacation to South Korea. A five-star hotel, no less. And then she hung up before I could even respond. I don’t know how to reach her anymore.”

Yn's heart went out to him as she massaged his tense shoulders. “That sounds tough, sir. Kids can be quite demanding.”

Mr. Gabriel nodded, his eyes still closed, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t mind helping her. My wife and I always spoiled our little princess. But it’s her attitude now that bothers me. She doesn’t seem to appreciate anything. It’s like I’m just a wallet for her to travel and post pictures on social media. That’s what kids care about these days, right?”

Yn's hands moved lower, working carefully on the tight muscles in his upper back. Her touch was gentle yet firm, as if she could soothe his physical tension and some of the emotional weight he carried.

“Maybe she needs to learn responsibility,” Yn suggested softly. “It’s a hard phase, but one day she’ll understand the value of things. She’ll realize she has to work for what she wants, to be independent.”

Mr. Gabriel let out a deep, weary sigh. “I hope so, Yn. I do. I don’t want her to grow up thinking life’s all about getting what you want handed to you.”

His hand moved to his pocket as he spoke, pulling out a well-worn wallet. He opened it slowly, revealing a photo tucked inside – a picture of his wife. His eyes lingered on the image for a long time.

“Maybe we were at fault for letting her be this way for so long,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “But it’s been hard... raising her alone. If my wife were still here, she would’ve known what to do. She was the one with all the wisdom, all the patience.”

Yn glanced at the photo from behind him. She had seen it before during one of their sessions, the warm smile of Mr. Gabriel’s wife staring back from the small square of paper. She already knew the story – how her passing had sent him spiralling into stress, how it had left him trying to balance a high-pressure job and a daughter who didn’t seem to understand the loss they had both endured.

Yn couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Mr. Gabriel. Losing a loved one was painful enough, but raising a child alone in the wake of that loss? Even harder. She continued to massage his back, her fingers moving in smooth, rhythmic motions, wanting to offer him whatever comfort she could.

“I’m sure she’d be proud of you,” Yn said softly, her voice gentle, trying to encourage him.

Mr. Gabriel smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. “I hope so. I like to think she’d understand how hard I’ve tried.”

Suddenly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out several hundred-dollar bills, placing them on the cushion beside him. Yn blinked, her hands pausing momentarily as she stared at the crisp bills in surprise.

Before she could say anything, Mr. Gabriel glanced back at her with a small, knowing smile. “That’s your tip, sweetheart. You haven’t finished yet, so don’t stop, but I wanted to ensure you had it. As I’ve told you, you’re different from the other girls here. You’re... sincere. It’s rare.”

Yn’s fingers stilled again briefly, a wave of emotion catching her off guard. She hadn’t expected his words to affect her as much as they did. It wasn’t just the money but how he saw her. Really saw her. Beyond the bunny-girl costume, beyond the role she played at the casino. He saw her sincerity, something she had always tried to hold onto, even in a place where people were often reduced to objects, roles, or masks.

Her heart swelled with gratitude, and she let out a soft, appreciative laugh. “Thank you, sir. I don’t know what to say. Your generosity, your kindness – it means a lot to me.”

He nodded; his expression still touched with a quiet sadness. “You deserve it. And thank you... for listening.”

Yn resumed the massage, her hands steady, but her mind wandered. She was moved by Mr. Gabriel’s honesty and willingness to be vulnerable with her. It wasn’t often that her clients opened up like this. Most of them preferred illusion and fantasy. But with Mr. Gabriel, there was a realness that stood out. In rare, intimate moments like these, Yn realized how much she respected the trust he placed in her.

Suddenly, Mr. Gabriel's tone shifted. “Anyway, I hope you don't mind me asking, but... is it true this casino has a new owner?”

Yn’s stomach tightened at the question. The memories of the Marquis de Gramont surfaced like an unwelcome tide, and the chill of his presence seemed to wrap around her even now. But she kept her composure, forcing a calm nod in response.

“Yes, sir. There's been a recent change,” she confirmed, her voice steady despite the unease creeping into her chest.

Mr. Gabriel’s brow furrowed as he leaned back slightly, looking both intrigued and concerned. “Is it true... that the new owner is the Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont?”

Yn hesitated. Should she lie? Deflect? She wasn’t sure how much Mr. Gabriel knew about the Marquis, but the truth sat heavy on her tongue. She nodded again. “Yes, it’s him.”

A long, deep sigh escaped Mr. Gabriel. Not one of frustration but one filled with an almost weary caution. He muttered under his breath, “Damn. What does he want here?”

“Do you... know him, sir?” Yn asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. It wasn’t often she asked clients personal questions, but something about this conversation felt different – dangerous.

Mr. Gabriel’s expression darkened further. “I’ve heard of him. He’s... a ghost. Whispers of his name float in certain circles. Rumors, mostly. About his dealings in the underworld. People say he’s tied to things no one wants to talk about.”

Yn’s heart skipped a beat. “What kind of things?”

He shook his head. “No one knows for sure. But it’s bad. Very bad. How he became a Marquis is anyone’s guess. He appeared out of nowhere with money, power, and a title that didn’t make sense. Some say he bought it. Others... say worse.”

Mr. Gabriel’s voice grew darker, more deliberate. “But I’ve heard something else. Something that’s been making waves in the underground. There’s been a... shift. A big one. A high-ranking figure in the criminal world – one of the untouchables – was murdered. By a rogue. And everything started to fall apart. The whole network... it’s crumbling.”

Yn stayed silent, her fingers moving over his shoulders, but slower now. Her mind was miles away, focused on what he was saying. She tried to process it all, but it felt like she was hearing about a world that shouldn’t exist, a world hiding just beneath the surface of her own.

Mr. Gabriel’s eyes narrowed, his tone cautious. “These criminals – they’ll hunt that rogue down. Every last one of them. But here’s the thing, sweetheart... they can’t do it recklessly. If they start acting out in the open, it’ll expose their entire network to the world. They’re everywhere, but they survive by staying in the shadows. That’s their rule.”

“Are they the mafia?” Yn asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She could scarcely believe what she was hearing, but it was the only thing that made sense. The mafia was the only organized crime she’d ever known that worked this way – silent but everywhere.

“Not exactly,” Mr. Gabriel replied, shaking his head slowly. “They’re similar, sure. But what I’m talking about is bigger. More organized. Much more discreet. From what I’ve gathered, they have reached every country. They even have... safe havens.”

“Safe havens?” Yn repeated, her brow furrowing.

He nodded. “There’s a hotel in New York, a lavish place. It’s a sanctuary for hitmen, assassins, and other... members of this underworld. But even that hotel has rules. Strict ones. And if those rules are broken...”

Yn’s hands stilled utterly. Her mind raced, trying to piece everything together. This wasn’t just about the Marquis anymore. It was about something much bigger – something she didn’t fully understand, but she could feel its weight pressing down on her.

Mr. Gabriel's voice dropped even lower, as if sharing a secret meant only for her ears. “Anyway, these people... they want to find the rogue who killed their leader. They want him dead. There's a massive bounty on his head, no doubt. But the higher-ups – they don’t want chaos. So, instead of an all-out hunt, they’ve appointed someone. A judge, jury, and executioner all in one. They call this person the autem imperator.”

Yn’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t like where this was going. Not at all. She had no idea who or what this autem imperator was, but it sounded like something far beyond her control. And somehow, she could feel it pulling her closer to the man who loomed over her life like a shadow.

Mr. Gabriel continued, his tone grim. “It’s rare. This position. Only appointed when things are desperate. But from what I’ve heard... they’ve chosen someone who rose through the ranks fast. Cruel. Ruthless. But respected. Someone with deep connections, influence, and... a personal army of assassins.”

Yn inhaled sharply, the pieces clicking into place. It couldn’t be. It had to be. Her mind whirled, racing toward the inevitable conclusion.

“And this man,” Mr. Gabriel added, watching her carefully, “is rumoured to have ties to foreign royalty. A Marquis, perhaps.”

A cold dread washed over her. Of course. It was him. It had always been him. The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont – her employer, the man who seemed to slip into every corner of her life, and the one who had made it clear in his subtle, chilling way that she was under his watch.

But she couldn’t believe it. Not fully. There was a part of her that desperately clung to the hope that it was just a wild rumour, some twisted exaggeration passed through hushed voices. Because if it were true – if the Marquis was a powerful figure in the underworld – then she was fucked. She and her family were fucked.

BAM!

The deafening sound of the door crashing against the wall jolted her out of her thoughts. Yn’s heart lurched into her throat as she and Mr. Gabriel whipped their heads toward the entrance. The door, which had been sealed shut just moments before, was now thrown wide open.

The Marquis stormed in, fury radiating from him like heat off a flame. His tall, commanding figure filled the space, cutting through the room with an air that demanded instant obedience. His suit was immaculate, as always, but there was something feral in his expression. His eyes burned with an unsettling combination of rage and cold calculation, and they were locked onto her and Mr. Gabriel.

Behind him, Chidi, his ever-present bodyguard, entered in his usual silent, shadow-like manner. The contrast between the Marquis's explosive energy and Chidi’s controlled, disciplined presence was stark, but both carried an unmistakable sense of danger.

Yn’s breath hitched. The air in the room felt thick and suffocating, and her pulse quickened as the Marquis approached. She had never seen him like this before – so visibly angry. It was terrifying.

Mr. Gabriel stiffened, his earlier calm slipping just a fraction, though his face remained composed. He could feel it, too. This was no ordinary visit.

The Marquis halted just a few feet from them, his presence dominating the room like a storm about to break. Slowly, his arms lifted, resting his knuckles on his hips in a stance that exuded arrogance and control. His eyes were dark, assessing.

“How cute,” he said, his voice cold and mocking, the words dripping with disdain. His gaze flicked from Mr. Gabriel to Yn, like he was toying with them, waiting to see how they’d respond.

Yn’s hands trembled slightly as she withdrew them from Mr. Gabriel’s shoulders. Swallowing her nerves, she tried to keep her voice steady. “Sir... is there anything I can help you with?”

The Marquis’s eyes locked onto hers. His stare was like a blade, sharp and unyielding, filled with a ferocity that sent a cold chill down her spine. His expression had no warmth, only fury simmering beneath the surface – possessive, dangerous, and terrifying.

But then, as suddenly as the rage had flared, the Marquis’s lips twisted into a thin, mocking smile. He leaned in just slightly, his voice curling through the room like smoke, thick with his French accent. “Mon cherie, you have no idea how much you could help me.”

Mr. Gabriel had gone still, his expression carefully composed, but Yn could tell the moment something clicked in his mind. He knew. He finally understood who this man was.

“Marquis,” Mr. Gabriel began, his voice steady, though his eyes remained sharp, measuring. “It’s an honour to meet you, sir…”

“I wasn’t speaking to you,” the Marquis interrupted smoothly, his gaze never leaving Yn. His tone was polite, but the dismissal was apparent.

Mr. Gabriel stiffened, but said nothing further.

Yn’s pulse raced. The Marquis tilted his head, still smiling that cold, predatory smile.

“I must admit,” he said, his voice dark and low, “I find your... dedication to your work fascinating. I didn’t think you would stoop so low.”

Yn’s throat tightened. This wasn’t just anger. It was something more profound – something personal. She wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or control, but she could feel the weight of his possessiveness suffocating her.

Yn swallowed hard, trying to force down the lump in her throat as she gathered her courage to speak. “Sir, please. Mr. Gabriel only requested a simple massage. I’ve known him for a while. He’s always been respectful, nothing more.”

The Marquis's expression tightened, his lips curling into a faint, dismissive smile. Clearly, he had heard her words, but they carried no weight with him. He refused to accept her explanation.

Slowly, he began to move toward her, each step deliberate and heavy with authority.

“Perhaps I’ve been too lenient,” he said, his voice low, almost a purr. His eyes glinted as they bore into hers, the words falling from his lips with an unnerving calm. “I’ve had a business that required my attention. Important matters that couldn’t wait. So, I missed the chance to tell you one important thing before you work.”

Yn’s pulse quickened; her breath shallow as he closed the distance between them. She lowered her gaze to the floor, terrified that meeting his eyes would somehow provoke him further. She could feel the weight of his presence pressing down on her, suffocating.

He continued, his voice taking on an authoritative edge, “I’ve decided on a new... rule. Just for you, ma lapine.”

By the time he reached her, the heat of his body radiated against her skin, and she could feel him standing close – too close. She stared down at the floor, her heart hammering in her chest, not daring to look up.

Then, without warning, his hand slid to her waist, fingers pressing into her side as he pulled her against him possessively. The touch sent a jolt through her, and she gasped softly, the air leaving her lungs in a panicked rush. She stood frozen, the fear and tension twisting inside her like a knot, and all of this unfolded right in front of Mr. Gabriel’s eyes.

“From now on,” the Marquis said, calm and commanding, “you are permanently unavailable to anyone else.”

His hand tightened slightly on her waist, his grip firm but not painful. Just enough to remind her that he controlled her in more ways than one. “If anyone asks for you, you will refuse. No exceptions.”

Yn’s breath caught in her throat. He wasn’t just talking about work. This was a claim, a mark of ownership he placed on her in front of a man she had considered a client, a confidant. She wanted to shrink away, to disappear into the floor, but the Marquis held her in place.

“If anyone questions you,” he continued, his tone dark and final, “tell them my name. If they persist... ask one of my men to handle it. They’ll bring the problem directly to me.”

Her head spun, her body trembling slightly under his touch, but she managed a slight nod, her voice failing her.

Meanwhile, Mr. Gabriel stood frozen, watching the scene unfold, and the blood seemed to drain from his face. Realization hit him like a wall of bricks. The bunny-girl he adored platonically was not just another casino employee. No. She was the Marquis’s sweetheart. The apple of his eye. And now, Mr. Gabriel realized just how grave a mistake it had been to bring her here. But since when? How long had this invisible thread tied her to the Marquis?

The Marquis’s smile was thin, an empty gesture that didn’t reach his cold, calculating eyes. He seemed almost amused by Yn’s compliance, but there was no warmth in his satisfaction – only control. His gaze shifted from her to Mr. Gabriel, who stood stiffly, jaw tight, face struggling to remain neutral.

“I believe we haven’t been formally introduced,” the Marquis began, his voice smooth yet dripping with something far more sinister. His smile remained, but it was a mask. “Your name?”

Gabriel swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a vice. Slowly, he extended a shaky hand. “It’s Gabriel, sir. A pleasure to meet you.”

The Marquis glanced at the outstretched hand but made no move to take it. Instead, he chuckled softly, the sound dark and mocking. “Is that all? I’m not a fool, Gabriel. We all have a last name. What’s your full name?”

Yn’s heart sank, horror creeping over her. She knew what this meant. If the Marquis learned Gabriel’s full name, if he connected him to any threat or offense – even one unintentional – then Gabriel’s life could be at risk. She could see it in the Marquis’s eyes. He was hunting now, ready to sink his teeth into anything that smelled like a challenge.

Mr. Gabriel hesitated, the fear evident in his eyes. “It’s Gabriel... Accetta.”

The Marquis’s eyes gleamed with something dark, and his lips curled into a mocking smile. “Why do you sound so uncertain, Gabriel? Are you thinking of a different surname? Or perhaps... a fake one?”

Gabriel’s face paled even further. “No, sir. That’s... my name.”

The Marquis stepped forward, closing the space between them. His movements were slow and deliberate, like a predator circling its prey. “You see, I tend to remember names. They mean something, don’t they? They tell a story.”

Yn watched in horror as the Marquis’s eyes bore into Gabriel, dissecting him with every glance. She could feel the shift in the air – the cold, creeping fear that sank more profoundly with every word the Marquis spoke.

Sensing the danger but too deep to back away now, Gabriel forced a weak smile. “I’m just a businessman. Nothing more.”

The Marquis’s smile widened, but it was all teeth now. “Businessman. Yes, I can tell you are. You got a wife?”

Mr. Gabriel's eyes widened, a mixture of fear and confusion flashing across his face as the Marquis’s question caught him off guard. “Yes, sir. But she passed away... a year ago.”

“Ah,” the Marquis nodded slowly, his expression almost thoughtful. “I see. So perhaps you came here tonight seeking... distraction? A little comfort, maybe? I do hope you’re not confusing my sweet darling with something like that.”

Gabriel’s face paled further, and he shook his head quickly, his voice rushed and insistent. “No, sir. I never saw her that way. I’m still very much loyal to my late wife. I refuse to... to be with anyone else.”

The Marquis tilted his head slightly, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips as if Gabriel’s response amused him. “How noble. Loyalty, even in death. I must say, I admire that.”

Gabriel forced a weak smile, unsure if the Marquis’s words were a compliment or another trap.

The Marquis’s smirk grew as he stepped back, his eyes never leaving Gabriel. “I like you, Gabriel Accetta. You have... principles. Please, take a seat. I’ll have another bunny-girl attend to you for that ‘massage.’”

Gabriel’s eyes widened further, and he shook his head, his words spilling out in a rush. “No, thank you, sir. I really must be going. It’s getting late, and I—”

“Nonsense,” the Marquis interrupted, his tone growing firmer, more commanding. “It’s still early. Sit. I have a surprise in mind for you.”

The tension in the air was thick as Gabriel stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do, before he reluctantly lowered himself back into the chair.

Yn’s heart raced as the Marquis finally withdrew his hand from her waist, the brief relief she felt vanishing almost immediately when he clasped her hand in his, intertwining their fingers in a possessive grip. His touch was cold and calculated, and she could feel the weight of his control in how he led her toward the door. Chidi, his silent shadow, followed close behind.

As they stepped out of the private VIP room, the atmosphere shifted. The eyes of her fellow bunny-girls were already on her, their gazes sharp and knowing, as if they had seen something – or sensed something – before the Marquis had barged in. Yn felt her cheeks flush under their scrutiny, the weight of their stares almost as heavy as the grip of the Marquis’s hand.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle from the Marquis pierced the air. Yn followed his gaze. Sabrina.

The moment the Marquis whistled, Sabrina’s head turned in his direction, her eyes lighting up with elation and surprise. Without hesitation, she rushed over to him, her steps quick and eager, a flirtatious smile already playing on her lips.

“Yes, sir?” she purred, her voice dripping with playful seduction.

Yn watched, her stomach twisting with an unfamiliar feeling as the Marquis leaned close to Sabrina’s ear, whispering something only she could hear. Sabrina’s eyes widened, her expression shifting from astonishment to something almost like awe, though Yn couldn’t hear the words. But the Marquis’s grip on her hand tightened slightly.

Sabrina giggled softly, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she listened. She once glanced at the door to the private room. Once the Marquis leaned away, she nodded in response.

Sabrina’s eyes flicked briefly to where Yn’s hand was clasped tightly in the Marquis’s. Nevertheless, she purred, “Understood, sir.”

Without another glance at Yn, Sabrina turned and glided past them, heading straight into the private VIP room where Mr. Gabriel sat, likely too stunned to move. The door clicked softly behind her, but not before Yn caught the low, sultry words she offered as she stepped inside. “Good evening, sir. Lean back and settle down. I’ll show you a night of pleasure.”

Yn’s heart twisted. She glanced back at the door, worry bubbling up inside her. Mr. Gabriel didn’t deserve whatever was about to happen.

Before she could dwell on it further, the Marquis’s hand tightened around hers, tugging her forward with an unspoken command. She stumbled slightly but quickly regained her footing as he led her down the hallway without a word, his grip firm and unyielding. Her concern for Gabriel lingered, but the sheer force of the Marquis’s presence demanded all her attention.

The path to his office was a blur of lights and hushed voices, but Yn barely registered any of it. Her thoughts spun in a chaotic whirl as the reality of her situation pressed in from all sides.

Finally, they reached the large oak doors that led to his private space. The Marquis didn’t slow his pace. He pushed open the door and guided her inside.

The door closed behind them with a heavy thud, echoing in the room's silence. Yn’s heart raced as she stood in the centre of the opulent space, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the dark wood and leather furnishings. The air felt heavier here, thick with power and unspoken rules.

The Marquis released her hand, but even without his touch, the weight of his authority lingered between them. He moved purposefully, crossing to the large desk that dominated the room, his back to her as he adjusted something on the surface – papers, perhaps, or some file.

Yn stood frozen, unsure whether to move or speak. The tension was unbearable, her nerves on edge as the silence stretched.

Without turning, the Marquis spoke, his voice calm, but laced with the same possessive edge she had felt all night. “You’re concerned for Mr. Gabriel, I imagine.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest. Of course he had noticed.

“I...” Yn’s voice faltered. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. “He didn’t mean any harm.”

The Marquis finally turned to face her, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach twist. He leaned casually against the desk, his expression unreadable. “He made a mistake by asking you to service him privately.”

“He didn’t know,” Yn responded, her voice trembling slightly, but a spark of indignation stirred inside her. She couldn’t let this go. “You can’t blame him for that.”

The Marquis raised an eyebrow, watching her closely, but Yn pressed on. She could feel the frustration bubbling up – frustration that had been building ever since he’d forced her back into this life. The life she thought she’d left behind.

“You wanted me back here,” she continued, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. “You made me come back, to work as a bunny-girl. Assisting these men – personally attending to them – it’s part of my job. You know that.”

Her pulse quickened, heart pounding as she let the words spill out, each one a small rebellion against the suffocating control he held over her. “I didn’t want this. I never wanted this. But you – you – forced me to return.”

The Marquis’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something. Amusement? Annoyance? Whatever it was, it crossed his face. Still, he remained eerily calm. He straightened from the desk, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, voice smooth but with an edge, making the hairs on the back of Yn’s neck stand on end.

The Marquis’s gaze never wavered. Once he stood close, his hand lifted, fingers gently encircling her neck. Yn’s breath hitched, a jolt of alarm running through her. But he didn’t squeeze. He held her there, as if asserting control over her very existence, over every breath she took.

“But now you know. You’re the only bunny-girl who is off-limits to everyone else,” he stated.

Yn blinked, confusion washing over her features. She whispered, “Why? Why do you want me here? Please tell me the truth.”

The Marquis’s eyes darkened, and he tilted his head slightly, studying her. Yn became painfully aware of how close he was, the scant inches between their bodies. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the subtle scent of his cologne mingling with the charged air. The tension was suffocating, a heavy blanket that pressed down on her, making her heart pound in her chest.

“This,” he said, his tone smooth yet unyielding, “is the safest place for you.”

Her eyes widened. “Safe? From what?”

The Marquis remained silent, his expression inscrutable, though the grip on her neck tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but just enough to remind her who was in control. Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, like a dark cloud that swallowed every word before it could be spoken. The room felt colder, and Yn’s skin prickled as she tried to read the unreadable look in his eyes.

Then, without warning, he spoke. “Open your mouth.”

Yn froze, her mind spinning. The command caught her off-guard, and she hesitated, fear bubbling. She could feel the tremor in her own hands, and for a brief moment, she thought of pushing him away, of running. But where would she go? What’s the point?

Slowly, reluctantly, she parted her lips, a small act of submission. The Marquis’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he closed the distance, slightly tilting her head to the side. His lips pressed against hers, firm, and then he kissed her, his tongue slipping past her lips, demanding, dominating. She gasped, a soft, muffled sound swallowed by his mouth as he deepened the kiss, his free hand moving to cradle the back of her head, trapping her there.

Her thoughts blurred, a chaotic storm of emotions she couldn’t understand. Panic, defiance, confusion, all mingling together as his tongue explored her mouth, tasting, claiming. Her hands moved to his chest, but whether to push him away or steady herself, even she wasn’t sure. She could feel his heartbeat, slow and steady, a stark contrast to the frantic pace of her own.

Finally, he pulled back, just enough to let her breathe but not enough to create distance. His breath was warm against her lips, and she could see the glint of satisfaction in his eyes, the faint curl of his lips. “As long as you’re here, no one else will ever hurt you.”

Yn’s chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, her lips tingling from the force of the kiss.

“I don’t want this,” she whispered, but the words felt weak, fragile. “You don’t understand. I don’t want to be here.”

The Marquis tilted her chin up, forcing her to look into his eyes. “No, you are the one not getting it.”

He released her neck, his fingers trailing down her collarbone, leaving a path of heat in their wake. Yn swallowed, trying to steady herself. His hand slipped away, only to return, fingers curling around hers. He said nothing as he turned, guiding her across the room toward his desk, which dominated his office, dark wood polished to a gleam under the dim lights.

“I’ll make you understand,” he said, his voice steady but with a finality that made her heart sink. There was no room for argument in his tone, no softness that suggested he might relent. As they reached the desk, he pulled her towards it.

“Now,” he continued, his eyes locking onto hers, the command in them unmistakable, “get under the table.”

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