Mr Billionaire's Plaything

Name: Mr Billionaire's Plaything
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Raven Silver

Billionaires | Ongoing

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She was meant to be a distraction. He never expected her to become his obsession. In a world where power is currency and hearts are collateral, a ruthless billionaire discovers that not everything can be bought, especially the one woman who dares to defy him. She enters his world on borrowed time, a pawn in a dangerous game of control and desire. But what begins as a seductive arrangement spirals into something far more explosive. Secrets are weapons. Lust is the battleground. And love? Love is the one rule neither of them can afford to follow. A searing, intoxicating tale of dominance and vulnerability, Mr. Billionaire's Plaything will grip you from the first page and leave you breathless long after the last.

Suspense Modern First love Sexual slave CEO Attractive One-night stand Drama Arrogant/Dominant Workplace

Chapter 5 5

06-03 10:34

Chapter 1 1

Selene Moretti Pov

The bass throbbed through my ribcage, loud enough to drown out every sane thought. Neon lights painted the walls of the club in electric pinks and deep violets, casting everything in an artificial glow. Women danced like the world owed them nothing, hips loose, eyes wild, mouths open in laughter or longing. The air was thick with sweat, cologne, perfume, and something more primal.

Desire.

Everyone here wanted something. A drink. A touch. A body pressed up against theirs.

Everyone except me.

I stood at the bar, clutching my third glass of whiskey like it might save me from drowning in myself.

Lena Hart sat beside me, eyes flitting between me and the dance floor where a guy had been watching her like she was his next miracle. Her hand slid gently over mine. "Selene, come on. Please. Let it go."

I downed the last of the drink, letting the heat burn down my throat, trying to scorch Nico Valenti's name from my memory. "I hate him," I whispered, but the words cracked. "I hate him, Lena."

Lena's face softened, but there was weariness behind her kindness. "You've said that seven times in the last ten minutes."

"Well, I meant it all seven times," I muttered. My voice was thick, and I could feel the familiar sting in my eyes again.

"Don't cry, babe." She reached over, brushing a tear from my cheek with her thumb. "Not for him. He doesn't deserve it."

"But he took everything," I croaked. "Three years of my life. And now he's off with some influencer with a waist the size of my thigh."

Lena exhaled. "That's enough, Selene. You're spiraling again. I brought you here to forget, not to turn this into a therapy session."

My spine stiffened. I blinked at her, wounded. "Are you... shouting at me?"

Her gaze softened. She tugged me into a gentle hug, her voice low near my ear. "No, sweetheart. It's just the music's so loud. That's all. I love you, you know that."

I nodded, resting my head against her shoulder for a moment, letting her warmth anchor me. But then the pressure in my bladder won over.

"I need to pee," I mumbled as I pulled back, the alcohol making everything fuzzy.

"I'll go with you."

I shook my head, a lazy smile stretching my lips. "I'm fine. I promise."

She gave me a skeptical look, but I was already stumbling away from her, heels wobbling on the sticky club floor.

The hallway leading to the restrooms was dim, narrow, and spinning slightly. I braced myself against the wall with both hands, muttering under my breath. "Fuck you, Nico. I hope you choke on her TikToks."

Somehow, I found the door. I shoved it open with my knee, staggered inside, and headed for the first stall. I was already tugging down the zipper of my skirt when I heard it-

A rustle. Footsteps.

And then, a man stepped out of the second stall.

I froze.

He was tall. Broad-shouldered. His black dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up. He was zipping his trousers with casual ease. His dark hair was swept back, slightly tousled like he'd just run a hand through it. His eyes-crystalline, sharp-widened when they met mine.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I blurted.

He arched a brow. "That's my line."

I blinked, looked around. The urinals on the wall mocked me. The black-and-white sign above the door confirmed it.

Shit. I was in the men's bathroom.

"You're drunk," he said with a hint of amusement, moving to the sink.

I scowled, cheeks burning. "How dare you call me that?"

He rinsed his hands slowly, deliberately. "Because you're clearly about to take a piss in front of me without realizing where you are?"

I stomped toward him, wobbly but determined. "I'm not drunk. I'm... disoriented."

"Right." He grabbed a paper towel, drying his hands with excruciating calm.

"Pervert," I muttered. "You came in here on purpose, didn't you? Just to spy on girls."

That made him laugh. Low and unbothered. "You really think I need to sneak into bathrooms to see panties?" He turned, and suddenly the air between us shifted.

His eyes darkened-not with lust, but with a kind of intensity that stole my breath.

"Don't test me," he said, voice rough.

I took a step back instinctively. He followed.

My back hit the cold tile wall.

He didn't touch me. Didn't even lean in. But he was *there*, flooding my space, filling every inch with his presence. His cologne-clean, expensive, dangerously masculine-wrapped around me.

"You called me a pervert," he murmured. "But you're the one in the wrong bathroom, sweetheart."

"I-I didn't know," I whispered.

"Then maybe don't throw accusations when you're half-sloshed and seeing double."

I swallowed hard. Up close, he was unfairly gorgeous. Sharp cheekbones. Strong jawline with a faint stubble. Those eyes-like ice on fire.

He straightened his tie with one hand and smirked. "I'm guessing your boyfriend doesn't know where you are."

"Boyfriend?" I snorted. "He's an *ex*. Nico can go to hell."

He tilted his head, amused. "Let me guess. He dumped you for someone younger and dumber?"

My jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

He shrugged. "Just a guess. You're too beautiful to be crying over a man unless he's an idiot."

It should've made me smile. Instead, it confused me. "Are you a psychologist now?"

He didn't answer. Just watched me with that calm, assessing look that made me want to squirm.

I turned on my heel, locking the stall door behind me. My hands were shaking as I leaned against it, trying to steady my breath.

What the hell just happened?

Damian Cavendish Pov

I stayed exactly where I was.

I knew she expected me to be gone when she came out, but I had no plans of leaving. She intrigued me-the way fire intrigues a man who's always been cold.

She came out a minute later, slightly more composed. Her skirt was back in place, but her cheeks were still pink.

"What-are you waiting for me now?" she asked, crossing her arms.

I smiled. "How about I kiss you? Just to prove you're not attracted to me."

Her lips parted. "Excuse me?"

"You said I wasn't your type. I want to test that theory."

She blinked. "Do I look like the kind of woman who kisses strangers in public restrooms?"

"No," I said truthfully. "You look like the kind who pretends not to want to."

She stared at me, stunned. I didn't wait. I stepped forward, cupped her waist, and kissed her.

Soft. Gentle.

Her breath caught. Her mouth resisted for half a second-then melted into mine.

She tasted like whiskey and heartbreak.

I deepened the kiss, one hand sliding to her thigh, lifting her gently, her leg hooking around my waist. Her body arched instinctively, as if it already knew mine.

Her moan was quiet but devastating.

I broke the kiss, pressing my forehead to hers.

"This isn't you," she whispered.

"No," I agreed. "It's not. But maybe that's the point."

She didn't stop me when I reached for the hem of her dress.

She didn't stop me when I kissed her again, hungrier this time, more desperate.

And she didn't stop me when I made her forget his name.

For one perfect moment, she wasn't the girl crying over her ex.

She was just mine.ov