something wick'd this way comes...

you go to your appointment and like you aren't already uncomfortable enough in the stupid paper gown and the sheet over your lap. He walks in and you are just dumbfounded. Flummoxed on the most visceral level possible. Like oh my god. Mortified. There is no way to act normal. You are a mess. You're not boy crazy but jfc this man ticks alllll your boxes.

Of course, you are suspicious too. Why would a man go into this field if he wasn't a creep? But maybe he actually just cares about women and could tell when he was in residency that it was an area of medicine that's grossly underserved. It could happen...

Of course, he's used to this reaction from new patients. He's all business while also being cordial and charming--there's an art to making small talk while giving a breast exam... He almost manages to put you at ease. Of course your native defense to uncomfortable situations is humor, and you manage to dig the hole deeper for yourself somehow while making him laugh.

Little do you know, he's struggling too. He is never a creep to his patients but there is something about you and he can't stop himself from thinking you are too cute for words. Bonus: he's already seen your hoohaa, very nice, 💯💯, appreciates the pre-appointment attention to detail... 🤣🤣 But of course, you're his patient. He can't ask you out. It's all moot...and it grinds him up a little inside.

When it comes time to leave his review you can't stop yourself from being funny at first. This man is a menace. Way too handsome to be a lady doctor. Didn't even need the lube. V. awkward. Nice smile. Warm hands. You delete it, of course, but...

Somehow, because you're a fucking idiot, you accidentally send that version unwittingly.

Julian, on the other hand, is dying with laughter when he reads this. Who is this girl? He looks you up and sees you're some kind of writer, like in the original movie. Maybe you write funny essays like David Sedaris, maybe some plays or tv writing. Maybe you have credits on a show he really likes. He can't stop thinking about you, and this is such an ethics violation.

Then...you run into him at the farmer's market a few months later. And he is not letting you slip away. You are trying to pick out a ripe melon. PLEASE let me put in a boob squeezing joke here. 😂😂 "Try this one." "How do you know?" "I've handled a lot of melons..." 🤣 Ok. I'm sorry. But then he has to say something that lets you know how badly you fucked up and YOU SENT THE CRASS REVIEW. You turn beet red. SO fucking embarrassed. Ready to drop your fruit and run. But he stops you.

"I'm not sure I can be your doctor anymore."

"That is five hundred percent understandable. I will be committing seppuku immediately."

"I can't be your doctor because I want to ask you to dinner tonight."

You die. That's it. The end.

😂😂😂

Rom com continues. There is definitely more of that cat and mouse vibe. He's used to women just fucking tripping over themselves trying to marry him because he's a handsome doctor, but you keep him at arms length because you're uncomfortable with how much you actually want him. You think you're mentally ill. You're not a teenager anymore. You should not feel this way as a grown ass woman. It's ridiculous.

But here you are. So fucked for and by this man. 😂😂😂 Turns out he really does know his way around the lady parts. Not fair. He IS a menace!

You invent a problem that doesn't exist so you can run away.

He tracks you down in Paris and when you see him in that fucking black cashmere turtleneck you die again.

The end. 😂

Ok ok not the end. I'm thinking...he runs you down. A big sappy declaration on the Pont des Arts (the bridge with all the love locks 😭 yeah i know). Snow falling. Kiss dammit!

Montage of doing lovey dovey things in Paris.

You live happily ever after.

You can't voice the real question you want to ask here in public. "Did you just pick a fight with the 14k Triad?"

Even though you're in an intimate seating for two with a sweeping view of Victoria harbor, so close you're practically tangled up in his long legs under the table, you have a feeling that wouldn't go over too well.

"Why…bother heckling your brother, after all this time?" you decide to ask instead. "I assume he was just a child, when all those things happened?"

"You think I'm punishing my innocent half-brother for the sins of my father?" he asks with a smirk, reaching for a braised shrimp with his chopsticks.

Yes, you do wonder if there's displaced resentment from the child who was left behind, for the child who was The Chosen One.

"I…don't know."

"Believe me, he's no innocent. We'll leave it at that here."

He says it in that tone that should end it for you, if you're smart—but you've already established that you're an absolute idiot when it comes to this man.

"But are they…still connected?" You don't know how else to ask about the Triads in veiled terms in public.

"Are you afraid, bunny?"

You chew your lip a little, sensing you're treading dangerous ground.

"I'm afraid…of things I don't understand." That's the truth, at least.

"Hmm. I thought that maybe you were thinking about the prospects of the future," he taunts you with that infuriating curl of lips that equally lights you up and makes you want to smack him. You shift in your chair, aware for the umpteenth time that this man still has your panties in his pocket.

"I mean, tangling with a south Asian crime syndicate isn't exactly on my bucket list," you feel safe saying, sotto voce. It's certainly not a problem you ever dreamed you might have to seriously consider.

"Do you think I'm not already a target for the unsavory elements of this city?"

"I…"

Oh boy. He doesn't sound angry, but you feel like your walking into a trap all the same.

"Do you think I can't protect you? My cherished mistress who I cosset in my fortress of a home?"

So that's how it is, huh? Even while you know he's gaslighting the shit out of you, rewriting whole chapters of your origin story with a single pretty sentence…there's still a tingling warmth that creeps through your bones.

Are you cherished? Because you're still having trouble shaking the thought that you were just elbow candy this evening.

He's merciful tonight. He doesn't make you answer—or he doesn't want to hear what you actually have to say. "You did well."

You feel yourself soften even more. You want to believe that you were just overreacting. Do you really think this man isn't already ten steps ahead of you, or for that matter, the rest of the world? Suddenly you feel rather foolish. Of course he has this well in hand. Do you really think you of all people could foresee a danger he didn't?

"So did you," you finally answer, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. "That was quite a game you ran tonight."

He takes your hand from across the table, pleased that you're finally coming around to see things his way. Pressing lips to your fingers, he nips lightly at your knuckles, smiling wider when you jump. "I think you're the one who told me to fuck him up."

You can't help but giggle, giving in to your baser instincts now that some of your fears are put to rest. "Did you see the look on his face?"

"It was priceless."

"Oh, you put a price on it."

He picks out another tidbit with a smirk.

"What would you have done, if he stuck you with the 100 million?"

Donaka just shrugs. "I would have paid."

You cant help but shake your head, reaching for a chiu chow dumpling. It's still so surreal to you, that your consort has that kind of hard cash on hand. "Seems like a big risk." You take a bite, loving the chewy texture, closing your eyes for the savory flavor bursting over your tongue.

He smiles a little, watching you enjoy the spread of food he'd ordered. "For large reward. That's how the game is played at my level, bunny."

You consider him again, looking over his handsome features with a discerning eye. Then it dawns on you, and you don't know why you didn't see it before.

"You got something more than revenge out of this operation tonight."

His smile is like the flash of a tiger's fangs. "You are a sharp little thing."

You wait, but of course he doesn't volunteer any extra information. You wonder if one of his security clients put him up to it. A rival tech guru perhaps, someone Security Systems Alliance has a big contract with, a job for the CEO himself to ruin a competitor.

If Donaka was willing to risk a 100 million like pocket change—how much was the reward?

It seems to please him, that you're catching on to the spirit of the op, even if you don't have the exact details. There's a heat in his dark eyes that goes straight to your loins, as he kisses and nips at your fingers again. He's so bitey when he's feeling amorous. Why does that sharp pain go straight to your clit?

That darkest primal heart of you that is not interested in logic or feminism is always volunteering to be devoured by this man.

You've long decided that your libido is an unhelpful bitch.

Donaka levels you with a weighty gaze, one of those piercing looks that makes you feel like all your internal workings are totally laid bare.

He likes it, that you're not a complete idiot about business and its related politics, so long as you don't defy him too much. It will serve him well, for the plans he's formulating for you.

You did well tonight. For the most part, you didn't flinch. Maybe he'd enjoyed it, when you hid behind him, when Dominic first made the scene. Your instincts are good there too. But even when you felt uncomfortable, you doubled down and backed his play. That is the kind of loyalty he requires of you, if you expect to be allowed out of the house at his side.

He dares to think his conditioning of you is turning out to be a success. He has to hand it to you. You've held his interest longer than any of the others, and you were certainly his toughest mistress to break. Despite your misgivings, he thinks he's managing to mold you into the type of companion he requires. However, even now, while you're lavished with jewels and draped in silk he knows the money isn't enough to hold you.

It's the less tangible things that forge his most effective weapon against you. Unfortunately…that's turned out to be a double-edged blade.

He still doesn't think he's a man who's capable of love, but whatever this is between you? It is singular, and consuming, a burning need, a ravenous craving that has yet to be satisfied—and he's finally decided to use it to his advantage rather than gnash his teeth over it.

🌃🌃🌃

Rather than make the trek back to Shek O, Donaka introduces you to the penthouse apartment he keeps downtown for late nights in the city. It's filled with sleek masculine luxury, dramatic lighting and more priceless art, but you can't help but think it's rather impersonal compared to the beautiful house where you live together. You wonder if this is a place where he can bring people, that won't reveal much about who he truly is.

You also wonder if he's brought other women here, and your stomach involuntarily lurches with the thought.

He lets you look around, rather than pouncing upon you like he so often does. He seems content for the moment to watch you, chucking his jacket over the couch and pouring himself a drink before taking a seat by the window. The lights of Hong Kong spread out behind him, a glittering tapestry of wealth and commerce sparkling as far as the eye can see.

"Do you…stay here often?" you fish, winning a twitch of a smile from this man who always sees straight through you.

"When I work late."

With a hand on your hip you watch him undo his tie, loosening the first few buttons of his shirt. The sight of him like this, relaxed and undone after your big evening, manspreading in his chair with an amber drink in hand…it does something to you, spreading like warm opium in your veins, and you're not sure why.

Maybe because it's only you who gets to see him this way.

Or at least…so you hope.

In a dizzying moment of lucidity, in this apartment high above the world while looking upon this heartbreakingly handsome yet oh so mysterious man seated half in shadow—you realize that you will probably never truly know Donaka Mark. Not all of him, at any rate. No matter what he gives you, his secret heart will always be something he keeps completely for himself.

There will always be something you do not know.

Perhaps this would not bother you so much, if you weren't falling so hopelessly in love with him, despite your better judgement.

He certainly knows every thing there is to know about you, and everything that makes you tick. It's not fair in the least.

He'd called you his cherished mistress…that still warms you inside, like a shot of high-proof liquor. Cloying. Heady.

Disorienting.

You're not sure you possess the mercenary detachment it takes to be a true mistress. And if he has other lovers who he brings here…you would lose your goddamned mind, no matter how he framed it.

Yet…especially after watching him work tonight, nor are you sure you have what it would take to be a public consort to this powerful man, either. Tai tai jokes aside, you know that deep down you are just a lost little gremlin who observes the foibles of life going by, preferring to leave the big moves to others.

You wanted to go out and about with him so badly—but did you really think you have what it truly would take to stand at this man's side amongst his peers, a pleasant smile on your face and a dagger hidden behind your back at all times?

You little fool.

What is it you want, then?

Safety from heartbreak, might be the real answer, but that is only an illusion for any of us, no matter what course we take.

All you really know for certain is that you control of none of this, and it makes your head spin.

He meets your introspective gaze with that little smile of his, giving you time or feeding you more rope to mentally hang yourself with, whichever.

"I liked having you with me tonight, bunny," he offers, as though he knows you are silently reeling, admiring him from a distance with those big watchful eyes. "I meant it, when I said you did well."

Damn him for knowing when a little praise goes a long way. Because the truth is you did enjoy yourself, even if the implications of the battle scared you.

"I like being with you too," you confess quietly, feeling ridiculously shy all of a sudden under the microscope of his gaze.

"You're safe with me, you know. You're mine, and I'll never let anything bad touch you. Do you believe me?"

Once you simply would have laughed with disbelief at this. Why is there such a lump in your throat now?

"I want to." That is the truth, though not exactly what he wants to hear.

That tear of a smile widens a little more for you. Maybe because whether you believe him or not…you're not getting any say in the matter. Not really. Not unless you grow a spine again and make another crack at escape—perhaps you both know you're not going to do it. Not now.

You're in too deep.

Maybe you're a fool, but you are not immune to that heat in his eyes. To be desired by this powerful man is a heady thing, and even if you know it's the catalyst to your demise, you can't fight it. Especially not now, after how many glasses of plum wine? And all the excitement of the evening, the high-stakes auction and even the element of danger…he couldn't have orchestrated your arousal any better by feeding you straight aphrodisiacs.

"Come here." The order is delivered in a throaty growl that floods your center, desire a sleeping dragon that coils in your loins.

You start to obey him, but you freeze for the scolding hiss of air from between his teeth. "Take that off," he demands, gesturing with one long finger. "I've wanted to see it on the floor since the moment you put it on."

You wonder vaguely how much of this man’s day goes to checking the cameras at home. How often does he watch you?

You never enjoyed the expectation of putting on a show for a lover. The demeaning aspects aside, you’ve just never felt that comfortable in your own skin. Yet there is something about this man who likes to watch everything, from your meagre day to day tasks to moments that are decidedly more intimate, and maybe this level of voyeurism has transformed you somehow. You relish the hunger in his gaze as you slide the strap of your dress from your shoulder, then the other, until the pretty silk is pooled at your ankles and you are wearing nothing but your cascade of black pearls and your Louboutins.

At the crook of his finger you walk to him with a slow deliberation—not just so you won't trip on your dress at your feet. Maybe you are learning to savor the anticipation in his little games; you want to remember the look on this man’s face forever. Someday, when he’s had his inevitable fill of you, you’ll hoard it in your memory like a dragon with a precious pearl...

You climb into his lap, guided by his big hands upon your haunches that pull you into the cradle of his broad body. You are engulfed, caged, completely consumed—he explores the curves of your bare flesh with a gentleness that breaks your heart. Why is this man allowed to touch you as though he loves you? The sum you would pay to hear the words… Millions. A kidney. The deed to your very soul…

His full lips are soft yet demanding upon your mouth, your neck, the tips of your breasts…and as you writhe upon his rigid cock you fear you signed that last part of yourself away to him a while ago.

He stands with you in his strong arms as though you weigh nothing at all, his mouth never leaving yours as he carries you to his bedroom in a few long strides. As soon as you touch the mattress he is on you, more urgent now, his sharp teeth nipping the tender insides of your thighs before wrecking your center with his tongue.

You are his creature now.

The words appear in your mind as you arch beneath him, helpless against the storm of this man's passion, pursuing this pleasure that only he has ever managed to give you. He is like the typhoon that terrorize these shores in late summer; violent, awe-inspiring, inevitable.

The best you could ever really do is just try to hold on.

He abandons you at the very edge of your completion, smirking down at you with a warmth in his eyes that contradicts that cruel smile. Your whine of protest only seems to delight him more. "Hush, bunny," he quiets you, divesting himself of the rest of his fine clothes. "You're cumming on my cock tonight, or not at all."

You're floating in a golden daze as he guides you on top of him, teasing your wet folds with his blunt tip, making you moan and writhe with the unbearable madness of it all. In the morning there will be purple shadows upon your hips, where the tips of his strong fingers pressed into your flesh, guiding you upon him.

Perhaps he is the master of this torture, but he is not immune to it as you capture his tip in your weeping chanel, squeezing him greedily as he glides inside. The satisfaction of hearing him moan kindles a warm triumph inside you. Such hubris is a dangerous thing; he reads your satisfaction in this small victory, baring his teeth with a vicious delight that gives you chills all over.

It's rare that he lets you ride him like this, taking his cock at the pace of your own pleasure, savoring the ache of him filling you full before withdrawing again. But perhaps he's still running the show with his diabolical thumb upon your ripe bud, anticipating your rhythm with devastating precision.

He watches you riding him like a goddess of the sea in nothing but your ropes of pearls with a savage glee. Dripping in his wealth, taking his cock deep in that sweet pussy like you are meant to do; you were made for him. He's more and more certain of it with every minute that goes by.

You are his creature.

You think it again as the warmth builds inside you once more, as inevitable as the crash of the waves upon the shore. With your back arched tight as a bow and the strands of heavy pearls teasing your nipples, you break to pieces for this man. You scream as you milk every ounce of pleasure to be had from his hard cock and his clever hand, until you feel him shudder and spill his seed inside you with a roar.

You are his creature, but there are worse things.

That is what you tell yourself as you collapse upon his broad sweat-slicked chest, gasping for breath with his arms around you.

There are definitely worse things, than this.