Chapter 1: A Game of One-for-One

August 27, 2022, 1:30 PM–6:00 PM ET

Clara sauntered through the Southampton estate’s gardens, vibrant orchids grazing her skin, in a Pucci bikini. The home’s glass walls loomed, framing an infinity pool that mirrored the ocean and the cameras’ red blinks, each lens a silent pawn in her father, Jack’s, voyeuristic game. Magnus, the family’s head of security, stood sentinel in a crisp Zegna linen suit, his ice-blue eyes carving her silhouette. The bikini’s fabric clung to her sweat-slick body, barely containing her 34F implants, the Brazilian-cut bottoms teasing the firm swell of her ass and freshly waxed pussy. Her twin Cartier Love bracelets clinked softly as she tossed her hair, their gold screws a subtle reminder of her restraints. Her pulse raced under his stare, a leash she wore with a defiant smirk.

At 5’8”, Clara’s stride ruled the estate, each step a claim to her throne. Magnus’s watchful eye, sharp as a Cartier blade, failed to cage her. She wielded her sexuality like a weapon, her bikini a defiant flag. His gaze seared her skin, a leash she twisted into a crown, though his clenched fist—nails biting his palm—betrayed a crack in his armor, Jack’s hound torn between duty and hunger.

Jeff, Clara’s son, was sprawled across a teak lounge chair, his head pounding from a wild night at Le Bilboquet with his aunt Gemma. Her sultry laughter and bottomless rosé had coaxed him to crash at her Sagaponack home. Now, lying out, the sun was beating down, glossing his broad shoulders, carved abs, and bronzed chest. His brown hair was slick with sweat, clinging to his brow. His turquoise Vilebrequin trunks did little to hide his massive cock, its bold outline practically winking at her. At 5’8”, he was barely level with his mother’s barefoot. When they went out alone, Clara loved to loom over him, strutting in towering Louboutins, plunging necklines, scandalously short hemlines hugging every curve. Her presence, amplified by her attire, sparked whispers and gasps which she relished.

Ava, Clara’s daughter, drifted on a swan float in the pool, her black Missoni bikini—strings knotted like secrets—framing her lithe frame and 32DD breasts, Jack’s gift in molding her into his muse. Dirty blonde hair spilled across the water, blue eyes flashing behind Celine shades as she tracked Clara’s saunter, curves commanding the sun. A Love bracelet, Jack’s gift at sixteen, weighed heavy on her wrist, a symbol of chastity which no longer existed. The poolside wine’s sharp tang stung her nose, dragging her to Paris 2019: her debut ball, vodka burning her lips, Grandfather’s grip tight on her elbow, his whisper—”Smile, my star”—a chain she still wore. She gripped the float, her boyfriend’s morning text flashing in her mind, her eyes drifting to Jeff’s trunks, shoving the memory into sunlight. Her gaze snapped to Clara, whose laugh rang out, sharp and deliberate, as she strutted over and adjusted her Pucci bikini, daring Magnus’s gaze from a distance.

Magnus, her father’s enforcer, was a former SAS agent, his 6’2” frame a sculpted threat in linen. His chiseled jaw and piercing blue eyes which combined with his British accent silenced rooms. For three decades, he’d been Jack’s confidant and fixer, his loyalty unwavering, though he did from time to time show his soft spot for Clara and Ava.

As Clara approached, Jeff and Ava sat up, their eyes devouring their mother’s curves with unguarded hunger. Clara laughed, sinking into a teak chair beside Jeff, her manicured fingers grazing her Pucci top, an 8ct diamond wedding ring shimmering with ironic brilliance. “What are you two plotting today?” she asked, her voice low and sultry.

Jeff leaned back, grin sharp. “‘Just savoring the view,” he said, eyes locked on her cleavage. Ava tossed a ball at him, giggling. “‘Jeff, you’re such a perv,” she teased, her smirk mirroring Clara’s as their mother’s hand drifted to her bikini bottoms, a deliberate taunt. Magnus’s shadow loomed, his eyes narrowing as Jeff boasted of a Harvard scandal he instigated. “Discretion, boy”, he growled, his voice a whip that cut Jeff’s grin, his bravado checked by Jack’s reach through Magnus’s gaze. Magnus’s eyes softened briefly on Clara, a veiled care belying his role as Jack’s fixer.