𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂 BOOK 2: HOLY TRINITY SERIES. When I move into the world it feels like a moral fall, like seeking love in a whorehouse. ❝You'll be the ruin of me, won't you?❞ ❝Yes, does that scare you?❞
In which y/n who work...
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We drink the poison our minds pour for us and we wonder why we feel sick.
- Atticus
TW: ORAL SEX, SEXUAL ASSAULT, ABUSE, MENTIONS OF KINKS AND NON-CON. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.
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You woke up the next morning to an empty bed beside you. The space was already cold which means Rindou might have left hours ago already, sometimes you wonder where he goes early in the morning or what was his usual routine, but you know he wouldn't spare any moment to explain anything to you, he looked like a closed off person, a tough wall to crack.
Somehow you understand, to be rich and to be powerful is to be cautious of all the things and people that surround you. Because he has everything to lose-while you, you have nothing.. Not even yourself.
You sauntered towards the door and tried turning the gold knob, but it remained locked, beside it was a tray of food, placed on the doorstep.
Not sure what to do the whole day, you grab one of the books from Rindou's collection and read through one that caught your eyes, while eating the cubed cut fruit of mixed apple, green apples, peaches and grapefruit.
When afternoon rolled, you heard keys jiggling by the opposite side of the door and you were quick to sit upright, book folding on your lap.
Rindou stepped in with his usual sleek tux and shiny Italian shoes. As always, he looked so crisp and gallant, that every time you were in his presence you felt small from the aura he exudes. You looked at his hands filled with assorted orange shopping bags, black big bags and small pink ones.
"Here, these are for you." He handed them in front of you and you were quick to thank him even though you don't know what's inside them yet, "Your new clothes, since yours looked like they were enough to be used as rags."
"T-Thank you, Sir." You muttered looking through them. The amount of clothes with great quality fabrics overwhelmed you. You never had nice things like these brought for you and somehow a giddy feeling swarmed your chest as you scanned the first dress from one of the bags. It was so beautiful that you felt like you didn't deserve to wear them. Your things were always second hand or hand down clothes from your mom.
