Chapter 25 – With My Playtoy
Chapter 25 – With My Playtoy
Arjona POV
“Pour.”
The bourbon sloshed into my glass before the maid even looked up. She knew better than to speak when I was in this mood.
I drained it in one swallow, slammed the empty glass on the desk, and waved her out with a flick of my wrist. The bourbon burned down my throat like acid and honey, leaving a trail of fire in my chest. My lips tingled, but the taste of him was still stronger.
My stiletto heel tapped against the marble floor, fast, impatient, like my pulse.
That kiss. And that voice in the shadows: “We’ll make her love him. Then we’ll make him kill her.”
I should’ve laughed it off. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
I pressed the back of my hand to my lips, furious at myself. I could still taste him. The heat. The roughness. The way his thigh had slid between mine like he’d always known me. Like he was Zorak.
But he wasn’t.
He was a copy. A shadow. A doppelgänger.
And yet—my thighs clenched just remembering.
“Fuck,” I hissed, throwing myself into the leather chair behind my desk.
I tried to shake it off, flipping through the folder of notes for the mafia family meeting, but the words blurred. My nails tapped against the paper. My mind wasn’t on the Veltronas. Wasn’t on business.
It was on him.
The fake Zorak.
The toy they dangled in front of me.
I smirked despite myself, picturing Nolie’s face. Sweet little Nolie, confused, betrayed, breaking down as this double kissed her, touched her, whispered in her ear with Zorak’s voice.
The thought made me laugh out loud. “She won’t stand a chance.”
“Talking to yourself now?”
I turned sharply. Renzo stood in the doorway, robe loose, chest bare, still holding that damn apple from earlier like it was his lover.
“Go play with your boys,” I said, waving him off. “I’m busy.”
He leaned against the doorframe, biting into the apple, juice glistening down his wrist. “Busy thinking about him?”
I froze. “What?”
“That… whatever he is,” Renzo said with a grin. “The Iscariot’s little trick. I saw your face when came back from the secret meeting , Jona. You looked twenty again.”
I was across the room before he could blink. My palm cracked across his cheek, the sound echoing through the office.
He didn’t even flinch. Just laughed. “Ah. So I’m right.”
“You don’t know shit,” I spat, though my chest was heaving, my hand tingling from the slap.
Renzo tilted his head, eyes soft with mock sympathy. “You’re losing it, Jona. Zorak Padrelli doesn’t want you. Never did. And now you’re drooling over a knockoff.”
I slammed him against the doorframe by the collar, teeth bared. “I’m not losing. I’m winning. You hear me?”
He smiled through it, lips red from the apple. “If you say so.”
I shoved him away, my blood boiling, and stormed back to my desk. I snatched up my phone, thumb flying across the screen before I could think twice.
My pulse thundered. If I could control him, I could control the game. Nolie would never survive it. Zorak would never recover. And I would win.
I snatched up my phone, thumb flying across the screen before I could think twice.
To: The Iscariots
Send him to me tonight. I want to practice.
I stared at the message, chest tight, pulse racing.
I imagined him here, in my house. On my sheets. His hands on me again. That mouth. That smirk.
“God, yes,” I whispered to myself.
Renzo’s voice came from the doorway, mocking sing-song. “Practice makes perfect.”
I spun, grabbed the empty bourbon glass, and hurled it at him. It shattered against the wall inches from his head.
He winked, unfazed. “Careful, Jona.”
The clock ticked too slowly.
I changed clothes three times before I settled on a silk slip the color of spilled wine. I painted my lips red, let my hair down, sprayed perfume on the inside of my thighs.
When I caught my reflection in the mirror, I smirked. “Twenty again.”
From the couch, Renzo chuckled. “You’re dressing for him, aren’t you?”
“Oh Shut up,” I hissed, tugging the strap higher on my shoulder.
He wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb, grinning through the red mark I’d left. “Careful, Jona. Don’t forget who shares your bed. Or what I could whisper into the wrong ear. You’d be amazed how fast empires burn when I open my mouth.”
My stomach tightened. Not with fear. With rage.
By the time the knock came at the door, I was ready.
“He’s here, ma’am.”
“Send him in,” I purred.
Renzo was sprawled on the couch, robe open, smirking like a devil as the bodyguard announced the visitor.
His voice slid through the room like smoke. “Careful what you wish for, Jona. Ghosts have a way of staying in the bed after the man leaves.”
He licked the apple juice from his thumb, smirking. “And when your new toy shows up tonight… don’t scream too loud. I’d hate to miss the show.”
The door opened.
And there he was.
Fake Zorak.
Same swagger. Same shoulders. That cocky grin that made women weak and enemies grind their teeth.
But this time—he was mine.
I let my eyes drag over him, slow, deliberate. “Close the door.”
The bodyguard obeyed, leaving us alone.
I took one step forward. Then another. The sound of my heels echoed in the room.
“You wanted to see me,” he said, his voice almost identical. Almost.
I circled him, letting my perfume fill the air between us. “I wanted to test you.”
He smirked, turning his head to follow me. “Test me how?”
I stopped in front of him, sliding one red-painted nail down his chest. “You already know.”
He smelled like cologne and smoke. Like Zorak. But sharper. Rougher.
I slid my nails down his shirtfront, tugging at the buttons one by one. “You think you can fool anyone with this face?”
His smirk sharpened, his voice dropping into that perfect Zorak growl. “Watch me.”
And for the first time, I wasn’t sure who was in control—me, or the ghost I’d just invited in.