The Billion-Dollar Plaything Novel by Astra Marlowe _ Novel




The Billion-Dollar Plaything Chapter 01

I am the number one "doormat" for Franz Homann, the crown prince of L.A.’s most elite social circle.
After his "First Love" rejected him, he started dating me.
Everyone knew the truth: he was just using me for practice. From our first kiss to the first time he took me to bed, he was never gentle, and he never held back. He treated me like a textbook he was trying to master.
His best friend asked him once, "Are you seriously falling for the housekeeper's daughter?"
Franz’s voice was ice-cold. "Do you think a man falls in love with his silicone toy?"
Everyone laughed at me, waiting for me to break. But I didn't care. I kept playing my role, acting like I was hopelessly obsessed with him.
Finally, right before college started, Franz’s mother handed me my final paycheck. She looked at me with satisfaction and a hint of disgust.
"I like girls like you—greedy enough to do anything for money. Now, take it and get lost."
I took the cash and disappeared. I faked my own death and wiped every trace of my existence from his world.
But that night, the news shattered the entire city:
Franz Homann, the cold-blooded heir who supposedly had no heart, had just tried to kill himself for love.
...
I never thought I would reunite with Franz.
Back when I was faking my own death, the news of him committing suicide for love spread all over Los Angeles.
I actually felt special for a second. What a joke.
Confiding in my only friend in a foreign country:
"Franz actually loved me too, right?"
She forwarded a few chat screenshots to me.
And then shattered my illusion.
"He didn't try to kill himself because of you."
"Kendra Murray was forced by her family into a strategic marriage. To save her, Franz cut his wrists just to piss off his mom and protect Kendra. It had nothing to do with you."
I gave a sheepish smile.
It was a bit embarrassing.
But fortunately, Mrs. Homann was generous.
With an eight-figure sum in my bank account, I studied and pursued higher education abroad.
Five years later, I was dispatched back to U.S. by my company.
At the very first celebrity banquet I attended.
I ran into Franz again.
I’d been his little lapdog for ten years, so I walked up to say hi.
Not just to catch up, but to reel in a potential client for business.
"Mr. Homann, hello, I—"
He didn't even look at me. He just turned away. I stood there with my hand out like an idiot.
Thankfully, an enthusiastic male colleague put an arm around me, "Daisy Jenkins, let's go get a drink?"
I cheered up again.
I walked away, not noticing his dark, psycho eyes staring at my back.
Sticking to me the whole time.
After having my fill of food and wine.
I was groggily pushed into the car sent by the company.
The moment the car door closed.
A strong arm pulled me backward.
He grabbed me from behind. He was huge and hot, crushing me against him like he wanted to break my ribs.
I sensed something was wrong.
I struggled a bit.
A touch of coldness wrapped around my ankle.
A long-lost male voice whispered in my ear, coiling around me like a venomous snake.
The end of his sentence pitched up, his tone hoarse, faintly revealing a morbid excitement.
Click.
Franz locked the chain around my ankle.
The arm clamped around my waist tightened even more.
"If I keep you in a cage, you can't run anymore, can you, bitch?"
"Baby... I should’ve broken you that summer. I should’ve used you until you couldn't even crawl away from me."
My heart skipped a beat.
Recalling the faint, lingering sense that something was off in my memories.
Franz was the ultimate prize.
He was tall, ripped, and filthy rich. Every girl wanted him.
And an only child.
Having him meant having the most powerful family in Los Angeles.
Therefore, he never lacked admirers.
Beauties of all shapes and sizes flocked to him in an endless stream, but he looked down on all of them.
Except for me.
Because people are just perverse.
Always craving a taste of something different.
The first time he kissed me.
Looking as if he were marching to his execution.
After he kissed me, he actually gagged and threw up.
I admit I have no self-respect.
But I'm not exactly unfazed by it either.
Especially when scrolling through his Instagram feed in the middle of the night, it hurt so much I wanted to cry.
He posted: "Tasted like total trash. I feel sick."
My eyes were just about to open their floodgates.
Ding.
"Venmo: You received $500,000."
I stopped crying instantly.
This was my hazard pay for being Franz's fatther people-pleaser.
His mother hired someone to keep an eye on him and fend off his unwanted romances.
I fought my way through the competition and snagged the position.
She said: "She’s ugly and loves money. She’s perfect."
I didn't like hearing a single word of that.
"Keep an eye on him. A hundred thousand a month. If you do well, I'll bump it up to five hundred thousand."
Now that, I loved hearing.
I loved it to death.
I was eight that year, a total country bumpkin who had just moved from a Midwest rural town to Los Angeles.
Franz had a secret crush on the.
Just like in a novel.
The first love always ends up going abroad.
Franz chased after her to confess his feelings.
In the airport lobby, I didn't know what she said to him.
Franz's face was dark as thunder.
On the drive back, he finally deigned to turn his devastatingly handsome face toward me.
"Daisy, are you really that obsessed with me?"
I leaned in out of pure reflex, my face full of flattery.
"I love you more than anything!"
He suddenly delivered his divine decree, looking at me with a calm tone.
"Then let me use you for some fun. You're just a toy, anyway."
My eyes sparkled like stars as I nodded.
"Can I be your girlfriend now?"

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