Bianca wasn't just a girl. She wasn't just some random woman who had stumbled into my life. She was smart—too smart. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she was playing this game with a purpose.
But what was her endgame? Was this just a game to her, or was there something more? The thought made me uneasy. Bianca was unpredictable, and that made her dangerous.
I needed to figure out her angle before I got in too deep.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Patient after patient came and went, but I barely registered any of it. By the time the clinic closed, I was exhausted—not physically, but mentally.
Bianca had taken up every ounce of my energy, and I hadn't even seen her since the elevator. I locked up the clinic and headed to my car, hoping that a long drive and some fresh air would help clear my mind.
But as I got behind the wheel, I realized I didn't want to go home. I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts, because I knew exactly where they would lead me.
Instead, I drove aimlessly, letting the city lights blur into streaks of color as I tried to distract myself.
Eventually, I found myself pulling into the parking lot of a small bar on the edge of town. It wasn't my usual spot, but that's why I chose it.
I didn't want to run into anyone I knew, didn't want to deal with the usual crowd. I just wanted a drink—something strong enough to quiet the chaos in my head. I walked inside, the dim lighting and low hum of conversation providing a strange sense of comfort. I found a seat at the bar and ordered a whiskey, neat.
As I sipped the drink, the warmth spreading through my chest, I let my thoughts drift back to Bianca.
What was it about her that made her so different? Was it her innocence? Her confidence? Or was it the way she seemed to see right through me, past the walls I had built and into the parts of myself I didn't want anyone to see?
I didn't have an answer, and that frustrated me. I liked being in control, liked knowing where I stood. But with Bianca, I felt like I was walking a tightrope, and one wrong move could send me crashing down.
As I finished my drink, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I pulled it out, expecting a message from one of my employees or some random notification.
But when I saw the name on the screen, my heart skipped a beat. It was her. Bianca.
My thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before I opened the message.
"Miss me yet?"
That was all it said. Just three words, but they were enough to send my mind spiraling.
I stared at the screen, my jaw tightening as I tried to decide how to respond. Part of me wanted to ignore her, to delete the message and pretend it didn't exist.
But another part of me—the part she had already gotten to—wanted to play along. I wanted to see what she would do next, wanted to know how far she was willing to go.
Before I could stop myself, I typed out a reply.
"You wish."
I hit send before I could second-guess myself, and as soon as the message went through, my phone buzzed again. Her response was immediate, almost like she had been waiting for me.
"Oh, I do. And so will you."
I stared at the screen, my chest tightening as her words sank in. I didn't know what game she was playing, but one thing was clear: Bianca wasn't done with me yet.
And the worst part? I wasn't sure I wanted her to be.
Dr. Adrian.
Pulses. Pulses! Where are my pulses, for Pete's sake?! I'd lost the ability to breathe. I was mesmerized by her breathtaking, almost demonic beauty, because she couldn't possibly be an angel! Angels don't tempt a man, making him want to sin, want to give in, want to—fuck!!
My eyes widened to the extreme, like a blind man trying to use his eyes for the first time, but all I saw was darkness. My mind shut down completely, as if I were a seed floating in my mother's womb, swimming in her fluid with no brain yet.
Who is she and how does she have this effect on me? All those years of controlling even the hardest women—women with life experience—and now I lose everything to this girl?! Is that even natural? Sometimes I feel like she's a ghost, a figment of my imagination. Like I've been talking to someone who doesn't even exist in this world.
Is this love? Why me, and why now? One thing I know for certain—I don't deserve a virgin girl. Not that I think virginity is something sacred or precious, but someone like me? A heartbreaker? No way. I've been a Dom since the day I was born.
I was always dominating—everything, everyone. In high school, I was fucking every girl who crossed my path. I'd brainwash them, make them follow my orders, and have them do everything I desired. I never lost. The worst thing is, even the virgin girls I met back then? I refused to take their virginity. I refused to be their first. I was smart, forever calculating, always aware of the consequences. So, I kept my hands clean.
Can anyone imagine how heartless I was? Yes, they'd fuck themselves in front of me—use toys, or even other guys, just to come crawling back and obey my every command. I was handsome, yes, but I was more than that. I was like a witch who could control every soul, every body, every mind.
Even my teachers weren't safe. I seduced them. I commanded them. I fucked most of them in ways they'd never forget—in classrooms, in bathrooms, even in my parents' house. I was like a shark, swallowing every woman who came near me, and I admit it: I was damn good at it.
And college? Oh, I didn't stop. I seduced and dominated a few guys and even two male lecturers. Yes, I did. Not because I was into men—no, I wasn't—but I enjoyed the power. I enjoyed watching how my influence broke them down. I made them get fucked in front of me just to see how far I could push them.
I still remember one professor. He wasn't too old, and he was hotter than me, with an arrogance that attracted all the girls. I hated his cocky attitude. I wanted to crush him, to push him beneath my feet—and I did. With just a little chasing and seducing, I turned him into a slave for my desires.
do I look like a man who deserves a virgin girl after everything I've done? No. That's why I feel something's off about Bianca. It's like she can read my mind just by looking at me with those wide green eyes. It's as if she's controlling my body with just one touch of her smooth, small fingers.
And now? Now she's making a bet with me? If I lose, I have to marry her?
What the hell did I even say? Nothing. I'm just standing here, glaring at her mutely, like some deaf and retarded fool.
The elevator came to a stop at my clinic level, and she pulled my arm, dragging me outside. I followed her subconsciously, drawn by her magnetic eyes. What was that electric shock that made my body crave her embrace?
Fuck. I'm losing my mind over this girl. Maybe I just need to fuck her and get it out of my system. Maybe then I'll be bored of her, and it will all end.
She dragged me into the clinic. No one was there yet—it was still early. She smiled at me softly. "Hey, wake up, handsome. Open the door. By the way, do you agree?" She raised her eyebrows.
I bit my lip, nodded confidently, and said, "Yes. I do agree."