His Plaything ||18+

4. Dual Persona

[Dante]

I straightened my tie through the mirrored walls of the elevator, catching my reflection just long enough to make sure everything was in place. Sharp suit, impeccable posture, not a hair out of line...mostly. But there was always something missing-something I couldn't quite pinpoint, no matter how many times I adjusted the details.

I checked my watch. Late again.

My tongue clicked against the roof of my mouth, an automatic response to the irritation bubbling beneath the surface. The floor numbers blinked slowly as the elevator ascended, and the air reeked of air fresheners. This building, with its polished floors and glass walls, felt more like a cage than the empire I was supposed to be running.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open with a soft whoosh. A woman stepped in-one of my employees, Korean, small and fidgety. Her eyes widened when she saw me, and she bowed twice in quick succession, her movements stiff and nervous. The usual reaction. I didn't bother acknowledging it. I could feel her eyes on me though, tracing the lines of my suit, probably wondering what it would feel like being in my shoes, someone who could crush careers with a single word.

A few seconds passed. My patience, always a thin thread, snapped.

"You're staring. Why?" I asked, my tone flat, void of any real emotion. I didn't raise my voice, yet it didn't need volume to command attention.

She flinched, startled, her eyes widening even further. "I-I'm sorry, sir," she stammered, bowing again, this time quicker, more frantic. "I didn't mean to-"

In one swift motion, I had her pinned to the wall of the elevator, my hand pressing above her head, leaning in close. My breath ghosted over her face as I stared into her wide, terrified eyes. Her lips quivered as she gasped softly, her chest heaving against the wall. I could feel her fear radiating off her in waves, and could almost hear the pounding of her heart in the tense silence.

The elevator felt smaller, the air more suffocating. My eyes locked onto hers, and I felt a hint of something-power? Control? The darker part of my mind enjoyed it and thrived on the fear that was rolling off her like a drug. I tilted my head slightly, studying her as she trembled under my gaze, completely at my mercy.

"I said," I repeated, my voice dangerously low, "Why?"

She didn't answer. She couldn't. Tears welled up in her eyes, her bottom lip trembling as if she was too frightened to even think.

My hand tightened against the wall above her head, fingers curling slightly as I leaned in further. "It's rude to stare," I continued, uttering every last word slowly to fit the mood-my mood. "Do you understand that now?"

She nodded furiously, her whole body shaking as a tear slipped down her cheek.

Good.

The elevator dinged again, the doors sliding open to reveal the lobby. I stepped back, releasing her, watching as she wiped at her eyes and tried to compose herself, though she was failing miserably. Her legs wobbled as she bowed again, so deeply that her hair almost touched the floor.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she tried to hold back more tears.

I smirked, though there was no humour in it, just cold amusement. "I know," I said simply, turning to leave. I felt her eyes on me as I stepped out of the elevator, though now they weren't filled with curiosity. Just dread. Maybe a little bit of something else-hatred? Disgust? I'd never cared enough to note down the feelings of background characters.

Behind me, the doors slid shut with a soft thud. I didn't look back, didn't need to. I'd made my point.

The lobby was quiet, the faint hum of the building's air conditioning the only noise that filled the space alongside the soft clatter of footsteps. As I crossed the floor, my thoughts raced, one half of me satisfied, the other restless. Always restless. I could feel the edge creeping in again, the familiar pressure behind my eyes, the one that always came before the switch. I hated it-the unpredictability of it all, the way it could seize control in an instant. One second I was fine, composed, calculating, and the next... the next I didn't recognize myself.

I stopped just outside the front doors, glancing down at my watch again. Another meeting, another day to pretend I gave a damn about anything outside of maintaining my control. My grip. It was all slipping through my fingers, wasn't it? No matter how tight I held on.

I adjusted my cufflinks, forcing the thoughts away, forcing myself back into the present. I could deal with that later. For now, I had to focus.

But as I walked through the glass doors into the open air, I couldn't help but wonder how much longer I could keep everything-myself-in check. The ticking in my head was louder now, more persistent. Every time it went off, it felt like a countdown, pushing me closer to that inevitable edge. I needed a pet to keep my mind off it-a plaything that I could use.

The polished floors, the chandeliers, the grand hotel lobby-none of it meant a damn thing to me. I strode past it all, gaze set on the back exit, my steps echoing in perfect rhythm. Precision and order, a calm I could wear like a second skin, were the only things I could count on. Tonight was no different.

Out back, the black car waited in the shadows and at its usual reserved spot. Its blinking headlights greeted me as I approached. The driver had already sensed me, starting the engine without so much as a nod. I slid into the back, closing the door with a soft click as my luggage perched on the next seat. Silence. Just the way I liked it.

"How did the meeting go, sir?" The old man's hands gripped the wheel tightly, his voice a low hum that barely broke the quiet.

I smirked, my eyes on the city lights slipping past the window. "It was... exciting."

The driver let out a chuckle, soft and almost surprised as if the idea of my excitement was something novel. But I didn't laugh. I didn't need to. The memory of her fear was enough to keep me smiling, the way her eyes widened, her pulse racing under my grip. The moment I gripped that slender little neck of hers. Satisfaction-it was fleeting, but still there. I held onto that feeling, savouring it as long as it would let me.

But it wasn't enough.

The car glided through the city streets, headlights tracing patterns on empty buildings. The engine's steady hum was almost soothing, a familiar lullaby for the restless. My head rested against the seat, eyes half-closed, thoughts drifting, slipping out of reach. The calm always came before the storm. Maybe tonight, I'd finally find the calm to hold onto.

When we pulled up to my house, I stepped out, briefcase in hand, slipping inside without a word. The place was clean and empty. It was home and also the beginning of my daily loop.

I moved to the bathroom, shedding clothes with slow, practised motions, stepping into the shower, and letting the heat try to melt the chill beneath my skin. But it never reached that far. It never had. Minutes passed, steam filling the space, but my mind stayed distant, unreachable. My thoughts were coming in barrages and yet, I was thinking of nothing in particular.

Odd.

When I came out, I dried myself off. In the far corner of my bedroom, I opened a drawer, pulling out the key, unlocking the door to a hidden closet. Inside, there she was-Bianca.

Her blue eyes stared back at me from the poster, cool and piercing, blonde hair was almost perfectly tied. I reached out, brushing my fingers over her face, tracing her lips, trying to feel what I'd felt tonight.

The paper could never amount to the real thing.

My breath hitched as I stared at her, my hand drifting down my body, movements slow but focused. I let my eyes close, picturing the way she'd look if she were real, how her body would respond under my touch, how her gaze would hold mine if I had her here. My breaths came quicker as my fingers stroked the length of my boner. I missed the warmth of her mouth. The ache deepened until finally, with a low groan, I came undone in my hand. All that did was leave me feeling just as hollow as before.

I stayed there, staring at her image, breathing heavily, the moment settling like dust. And then, my brows creased in annoyance-she was nothing but a piece of paper. A lie I kept telling myself. I tore the poster from the wall, crumpling it in my hand, casting it aside like all the other worthless things I didn't need.

Why should I keep a poster of her when I could have the real thing? I wanted her. We both did. At least for the time being.