The Billionaire's Plaything

Fleeting Encounter

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, its light emitting long shadows across the grandiose carpet and silk-damp sheets. Matthias’s breath was heavy and uneven, his hands firmly gripping Rennier’s small waist with a desperate urgency.

“Matthias,” Rennier murmured, her voice low and torrid. Her fingers ensnared in Matthias’s damp hair, tugging gently. “Don’t stop. Deeper."

And he followed her orders and thrust deeply. He groaned at how tight she was and unconsciously bit Rennier's shoulder.

The sound of skin against skin filled the room, their movements frantic yet calculated. For Rennier, it was another performance, a role she played to perfection. She couldn't deny that Matthias knew techniques to make her feel good. But that's it. It was all technique and no size.

Her mind wandered as Matthias maneuvered above her, dillydallying on thoughts of what she would buy with tonight’s payout.

'A sleek new watch, perhaps, or another addition to my growing collection of luxuries, rings.' Rennier smiled sneakily. Tonight's pay should be better than Matthias's performance.

She couldn't deny that Matthias was a very handsome man. He was tall and effortlessly attractive, with an athletic build that captured anyone’s attention. His warm tan skin and slightly wavy dark brown hair added to his effortless good looks, while his piercing gray eyes were deep and intimidating. A neatly trimmed beard complemented his chiseled jawline. But being handsome didn't mean anything to Rennier unless you were loaded.

Matthias, on the other hand, seemed entirely consumed by the moment as his eyes were closed while he moved his hips. His lips trailed along Rennier’s swan neck, leaving faint marks, as if he were trying to claim her one last time. His grip tightened, his body trembled upon releasing.

'I didn't even c*m,' Rennier murmured in her mind.

When it was over, Matthias collapsed beside Rennier, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Rennier sat up, stretching sluggishly, the sheets slipping off her body. She reached for the glass of wine on the night table, taking a slow sip as she watched Matthias dress when his breathing and nerves returned to normal.

“You know,” Rennier said casually, swirling the wine in her glass while staring at it, “you could stand to loosen up a little more. Maybe stay the night for once,” she said casually and heard the bed rustle.

Matthias didn’t look at her. He was buttoning his shirt, his jaw clenched tight. “This is the last time,” he said abruptly.

Rennier raised an eyebrow and immediately looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Matthias finally met her gaze, his eyes showing conviction. “I’m getting married.”

Rennier let out a soft laugh, setting the glass down with a faint clink. “Married? Congratulations.” Her tone was light, almost amused, as if Matthias had told her he was buying a new car.

'The certified fuckboy is getting married? The world is really ending.'

Matthias frowned, clearly not expecting Rennier’s lack of reaction. “This... what we’ve been doing... it can’t continue,” he said firmly, wanting a more emotional response, but Rennier was not someone who would indulge such expectations.

Rennier rolled out of bed, completely unbothered by her nakedness. She moved to the window, looking out and admiring how beautiful the city lights were. “Relax, Matthias,” she said, her voice cool and dismissive. “It’s not like I was planning to stop you from walking down the aisle.” She then looked at him with a smile plastered on her face, completely unbothered. "After all, it's just a contracted master-slave relationship."

Matthias almost sighed as his shoulders sank slightly, a mixture of relief and frustration. He reached into his pocket, pulling out an envelope thick with cash. “Here. For everything.”

Rennier looked at him, a faint smirk playing on her lips. She traversed over, accepting the envelope from Matthias’s hand without hesitation. “Always so formal,” she teased, putting the money into a drawer. She then looked at the scenery once again, though she didn’t move from where her feet were planted.

'I should buy new shoes tomorrow. And eat at the fine dining restaurants and hook up with any of the elites who's willing to pay a handsome price.'

Matthias hesitated, his gaze lingering on Rennier. For a moment, it seemed as though he wanted to say something more, but instead, he shook his head and turned toward the door.

“Goodbye, Rennier,” he said quietly.

Rennier didn’t bother to respond. As the door clicked shut, she glanced at it with unbothered eyes. She lit a cigarette and smoked, exhaling a cloud of smoke. There was no bitterness, no sadness—just a vague sense of amusement.

“Married,” she muttered to herself, a chuckle escaping her lips. “Well, good luck to her.”

For Rennier, marriage was such a vague word. There was no meaning in it. Society only put flowery words to something that would trap you forever with that one person who would restrict you in every way possible.

She flicked the ash into the tray, already thinking about who her next subject would be. After all, for Rennier, people like Matthias were nothing more than fleeting distractions. Ever since Matthias and Rennier had a contracted relationship, she hadn’t been seeing any elites since Matthias, a prominent figure in the government, had restricted her from having fun with anyone.

'It was good while it lasted.'

She then removed the damp sheets and threw them on the floor. She replaced them with new ones and threw herself onto the bed to sleep. She had no schedule for today, so maybe she should just rest.

Rennier’s days were a carefully chosen blend of pleasure-seeking and calculated ambition. Her life revolved around exceptional things: the glint of diamond-studded cufflinks, the silkiness of tailored suits, the hum of an expensive sports car engine beneath her.

She knew what people thought of her—arrogant, shameless, a woman who would bed anyone with the right amount of zeros in their bank account. But Rennier didn’t care. Life was all about survival. And this was her way of surviving.

Rennier lived alone, though her apartment was extravagant but lonely. It was filled with trophies of her hard work—luxurious gifts from past and present lovers: designer watches, art pieces, even a vintage wine collection she never drank but displayed proudly.

After five hours of sleep, she woke up with the rumble of her stomach. But instead of eating, she walked toward her bathroom and showered. She then changed into her pajama pants.

Rennier lounged on her luxurious leather couch, dressed in nothing but silk pajama pants that hung low on her hips, revealing her toned torso. She was browsing her phone, searching for a new target. A faint smirk showed on her lips as she scrolled, ignoring several texts from former clients. There were always new bachelors, new opportunities to charm her way into their wallets and their beds.

After a moment, her phone buzzed, flashing Clara’s name.

She smirked, her voice carrying a low, teasing tone. "Clara, to what do I owe the honor? Should I be flattered... or concerned?"

Clara’s voice was bubbly, as always. “Oh, please. Just get dressed already. There’s this new café downtown, and, well... I’ve got things to tell you. Big things.”

Clara and Rennier had been friends for almost five years now. Obviously, Clara was an elite, but she had cut ties with her family for reasons even Rennier didn’t know. She’d been managing her own business, which, surprisingly, was going well.

“Hmm,” Rennier drawled lazily, glancing at the clock. “You do know you’re interrupting my hard-earned relaxation, don’t you?”

"Oh, come on." Clara retorted, trying to protest. "I bet you’re just lounging in your penthouse. You’re going to grow moss on your back." Rennier chuckled at her remark. Sure, she knows me well.

“Rennier.” Clara's tone turned sugary sweet, combined with feigned impatience. “Don’t make me beg.”

“Fine,” she sighed dramatically, pretending that her decision was against her will. “But you’re paying. When will we meet up?"

"Of course, now."

"You’ve got a nice plan, huh." Rennier said it with sarcasm but still stood up to dress and meet her friend.

Rennier arrived at the café wearing a form-fitting black midi dress with a slit up one thigh, paired with sleek red stilettos that clicked sharply against the road. Her makeup was bold and seductive—smoky eyes that made her gaze intoxicating, sharp black eyeliner, and lips painted in a deep, glossy red. Her dark hair was styled into loose waves, flowing over one shoulder, while gold hoop earrings and a thin gold chain around her neck added just the right amount of flash. She walked into the café with a slow, deliberate sway of her hips, gaining attention without even trying.

Clara, settled at a corner table, waved excitedly. She wore a yellow floral wrap dress that complimented her auburn curls flowing down her shoulders. A string of pearls embellished her neck, creating an air of elegance to her bubbly demeanor.

Rennier chuckled and just as she reached for the handle of the glass door in an attempt to go inside, a man’s large, veiny hand abruptly covered hers, warm and firm, before pulling the door open in one move. Rennier immediately looked at the man only to meet his chest and not his face.

'Woah, he's tall... and huge.'

He was wearing a tailored charcoal suit that hugged his broad shoulders and masculine body. The polished black shoes on his feet glinted in the sunlight, and the silver luxurious watch on his hand that covered Rennier’s gleamed.

Rennier then looked at the man's face, only to catch his profile. Dark, neatly combed hair framed a face that was both smooth and striking—strong jawline, high cheekbones, and eyes of deep gray that, even in profile, looked sharp and piercing.

'He is handsome!' Rennier’s stomach churned slightly.

And when a breeze passed through them, his cologne spread through the thin air.

'And he smells good too.'

His cologne scent was dark and rich, maybe a blend of amber, leather, and spice. How noble and expensive.

The man barely glanced at her, his face turning just enough to reveal his sharp jawline. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice seductively deep, as he pulled the door open himself and walked inside.

Rennier blinked, caught off guard by the brief interaction, before turning her attention back to the café.

'He is f*****g hot.'