Chapter Text
As Friday finally rolled around, you left the office with a sigh so heavy it could’ve knocked over a filing cabinet. Relief washed over you momentarily as you stepped out into the cool evening air, the suffocating tension of the day melting away—at least until the guilt came roaring back. It gnawed at your stomach like a starving beast, a constant reminder that the life you had fought tooth and nail to build was crumbling beneath your feet. And worst of all, there was no one to blame but yourself.
Maybe Wanda had been right. The thought hit like a sucker punch, and you hated it. But she was right, wasn’t she? You weren’t cut out for this world—a world where power plays and betrayal were as common as breathing, where loyalty was just a word people threw around to make themselves feel better. On the streets, you’d known the rules, understood the stakes. Here? Here, you weren’t playing a game; you were being played. The stakes were monumental, and the weapons weren’t fists or words—they were contracts, secrets, and the ability to dismantle lives with a flick of a pen. And you were drowning.
The guilt was bad enough, but it wasn’t the only thing gnawing at you. Wanda. The very thought of her sent your stomach into a tailspin of rage, longing, and something far more humiliating: desire. One moment, you wanted to scream at her, to remind her how she used you, manipulated you, tore down the fragile life you’d pieced together. The next, you hated yourself for craving her touch, her voice, the intoxicating way she made you feel like the only person in the room.
What the hell was wrong with you? This wasn’t the movies. There was no dramatic redemption arc where you’d both magically work things out. She was the villain of your story—the cunning, manipulative mastermind who had made you her pawn. But try telling that to the part of you that still yearned for her with a desperation that made you want to hurl.
You were so wrapped up in your own mental chaos that you almost didn’t notice the car. Almost. It trailed you at a pace that sent every survival instinct flaring to life. The low hum of its engine was too deliberate, too slow, and a prickle of unease worked its way up your spine.
You glanced over your shoulder, your pulse quickening as your eyes landed on the sleek black vehicle. The tinted window rolled down at a pace that could only be described as obnoxiously theatrical, and when you saw who it was, your stomach sank like a stone.
Wanda.
Of course, it was Wanda.
She sat in the backseat, poised like some dark queen surveying her domain, her crimson lips curved into that maddening smirk that had haunted your thoughts for days. The streetlights bathed her in a soft glow, highlighting her sharp cheekbones and the undeniable glint in her eyes. She looked flawless. Too flawless. The kind of flawless that made you want to punch her in the face and then immediately hate yourself for wanting to mess up something so goddamn perfect.
And there it was again—that infuriating tug-of-war between anger and longing. One part of you wanted to flip her off and keep walking, to slam the door on whatever game she was playing. The other part? That traitorous, embarrassing part of you wanted to get in the car and drown in whatever intoxicating spell she cast every time she was near.
Wanda’s smirk deepened as if she could sense your internal struggle, and damn it, maybe she could. “Fancy seeing you here,” she drawled, her voice carrying effortlessly over the hum of the city.
You stopped dead in your tracks, your heart pounding in a way that was equal parts rage and something far more dangerous. “Are you serious right now?” you hissed, your voice low but laced with anger. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Wanda tilted her head slightly, her eyes glinting with amusement as she leaned forward, resting her elbow on the window frame. “Such temper,” she chided lightly.
With a soft chuckle she let her eyes roam over your form. “You looked like you could use a ride,” she continued smoothly, her voice a velvety tease.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re just brimming with good intentions,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “What do you want, Wanda? Haven’t you caused enough chaos as it is?”
Her smirk widened, unbothered by your anger. “Chaos? Is that what you think this is?” she asked, her tone laced with amusement. “I’d call it strategy. But I suppose perspective is everything.”
You scoffed, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “You used me,” you hissed, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “You played me, and now everything is falling apart.”
Her expression didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—guilt, no, impossible. “I didn’t force you to do anything, little cub,” she said, her voice soft yet cutting. “You shared information very willingly if I remember correctly. And now you’re upset because you’re realizing you weren’t prepared for the consequences.”
You took a step closer, your anger overriding any common sense. “This isn’t a game to me, Wanda. This is my life. My family. You’ve torn everything apart just to make a point.”
Wanda’s smirk faded slightly, her gaze sharpening. “And what exactly do you think this world is if not a game?” she countered, her voice taking on a dangerous edge. “Your family? Your father? They’d throw you to the wolves the second it suited them. It’s about time you see them for exactly what they are.”
Her words hit like a slap, and you hated how much they stung because a part of you knew she wasn’t entirely wrong. Still, you refused to let her see the cracks in your armor. “If you’re here to lecture me, save it,” you said bitterly, turning on your heel to walk away.
“Get in the car,” Wanda called after you, her voice calm but commanding.
You spun back around, glaring at her. “Why should I?”
Wanda leaned out the window slightly, her gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Because whether you like it or not, we’re far from done, little cub. And trust me, you’re going to want to hear what I have to say.”
You scowled, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “Why?” you shot back, your tone sharp but betraying the slightest tremor of uncertainty. “So you can gloat? Or manipulate me into more of your games?”
Wanda’s expression didn’t falter, but her eyes softened slightly, her smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “I didn’t have to manipulate you,” she said, her tone softer, almost gentle. “You were already caught in this game before you even realized it. I simply… helped you see the board.”
Her words stung more than you cared to admit, and you looked away, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something you might regret.
Wanda’s expression didn’t falter, though the amusement in her eyes seemed to sharpen, like a cat watching a particularly defiant mouse. “I wouldn’t advise making a scene, honey,” she said softly, her tone low and edged with warning. “Not here.”
You glanced around, realizing with a sinking feeling that she was right. A few bystanders were nearby, but none of them were paying attention to you. If anything, they were steering clear of the sleek car and the imposing presence it exuded. You could either stand there and argue with her in the middle of the street or get into the car and—God help you—see what fresh hell she had planned.
You took a step closer to the car, your anger simmering just beneath the surface, your voice dropping into a sharp, controlled tone. “I have no interest in entertaining whatever game you plan on playing with me this time, Wanda.”
Wanda’s smirk deepened, a flash of amusement crossing her face. “No games this time, cub,” she said evenly. “Just get in.”
Her voice was firm but not unkind, and that made it worse. You stood there, torn between your pride and the magnetic pull she seemed to have over you. Finally, with a muttered curse you weren’t proud of, you yanked the car door open and slid inside next to her, your body tense as you refused to look at her directly. “Start talking,” you said curtly, staring out the window instead. “What do you want?”
Wanda turned slightly toward you, her presence filling the confined space. You could feel the weight of her gaze, but you refused to meet it. “What I want,” she began, her voice velvet-smooth, “is to see you stop floundering. You’re drowning in a world you don’t understand, and while it’s almost endearing, it’s also... tragic.”
Her words hit a nerve, and you whipped your head around to glare at her. “I don’t need your pity,” you spat.
“Good,” she replied, completely unfazed. “Because I’m not offering it.”
You blinked, your anger faltering for a moment. “Then what is that you want?”
She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “I want to offer chance to learn how to survive in this world. You have potential, but you’re reckless, and your emotions make you vulnerable. If you keep this up, you’ll be eaten alive. But with the right guidance...” Her lips curved into a smile. “You might have a chance.”
Your stomach twisted at her words, at the way she so casually dissected your flaws and dangled the idea of power in front of you. “And you honestly think I will trust you after what you’ve done?” you asked warily, narrowing your eyes.
“You don’t trust me,” she echoed, her voice low and thoughtful. “Fair. I haven’t exactly given you many reasons to.”
You exhaled sharply, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. “So why should I believe anything you say? Why am I even here?”
Her lips curved into a faint, almost self-deprecating smile. “Because deep down, you want to understand. You want to know why I did what I did. Why I used you, as you so bluntly put it.” She gestured with her hand, her movements deliberate and fluid.
You blinked, your frustration giving way to confusion. “So you will just lay it all out on the table? Just like that?”
Wanda’s gaze softened, just slightly, her smirk fading into something more genuine. “Yes,” she said simply, her tone leaving no room for misunderstanding.
Her words left you speechless, your mind reeling as you struggled to process everything she had just said. Was this another game? Another ploy to manipulate you? Or was there a kernel of truth in her offer?
“Now?” You asked as you eyed her wearily.
Wanda leaned back, her expression calm and self-assured. “No not now,” she murmured, her gaze flicking out the window.
You glared at the side of her head before turning to look out the window of the car as unfamiliar streets blurred past. “This isn’t the way to my apartment,” you said after awhile, your tone sharp and suspicious.
Wanda, seated with her legs crossed and the picture of unbothered elegance, didn’t even glance your way. “You’re not going home,” she replied simply, her voice cool and firm, leaving no room for argument.
Your stomach twisted with a mix of anger and apprehension, but you clamped your mouth shut, refusing to give her the satisfaction of another outburst. The car ride felt like it stretched on forever, each turn taking you further into a part of town you weren’t familiar with, until finally, the vehicle pulled up to an extravagant building that practically screamed wealth.
You stepped out of the car, glaring at Wanda, who gestured for you to follow. Begrudgingly, you did, trailing her through the sleek lobby, into a private elevator, and finally into what you could only describe as a whole new world.
The elevator doors slid open to reveal her penthouse, a space so luxurious it felt almost surreal. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the walls, offering a breathtaking view of the skyline, the glittering lights of the city stretching out like a sea of stars. The open floor plan revealed a living area that looked like it belonged in a magazine—sleek furniture, a towering bookshelf, and a staircase that spiraled up to the second story, where a balcony overlooked the main floor.
You shuffled on your feet, craning your neck to take it all in, your head tilting back to get a glimpse of the upper level. “Jesus,” you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than anyone else. This wasn’t just a home—it was a fortress of elegance and power.
“You like it?” Wanda’s voice broke through your awe, and you turned to see her approaching, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. In her hands, she carried two glasses and an uncorked bottle of wine, her expression unreadable as she stopped a few feet from you.
You stiffened, remembering why you were here, why your blood was still simmering with frustration. “What the hell is this, Wanda?” you snapped, motioning vaguely to the penthouse and her calm demeanor. “You just… kidnap me, and now you’re offering me wine? What am I supposed to do, toast to being played?”
Her lips curved into a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You can yell at me, if it helps,” she said with a low voice, pouring the wine into both glasses. “Or you can drink. Both are acceptable.”
Your jaw clenched, her nonchalant attitude only fueling your irritation. “You told me you would tell me everything, so start talking. Because I’m not going to drink your expensive wine, and—what? Pretend that you didn’t completely used and manipulated me?
Wanda stepped closer, holding out one of the glasses. You didn’t take it, your hands balling into fists at your sides as you stared her down. Her gaze was calm, but beneath it, you could see the flicker of something more—calculation, perhaps, or maybe curiosity.
“I didn’t bring you here to pretend,” she replied calmly, her voice carrying a weight that made you hesitate. “And I didn’t use you, not in the way you think. Everything I did, everything I do, has a purpose. If you can’t handle that, then maybe you’re right—you don’t belong in this world.”
Her words stung, and your frustration boiled over. “Don’t pull that bullshit on me,” you snapped, stepping closer to her now, anger pushing you forward. “You played me, Wanda. You knew exactly what you were doing, and you didn’t care how it affected me. And now you’re standing here, all cool and collected, like I’m just supposed to… to what? Thank you for the lesson?”
Wanda’s lips quirked into a smirk, and she set the glasses down on the table with a deliberate motion before turning back to you. She stepped closer, her presence overwhelming as she closed the distance between you. “You’re angry,” she murmured, her thumb grazing your jawline. “Good. Hold onto that. Use it. But don’t waste it on me.”
Her proximity made your breath hitch, the intoxicating pull of her scent, her gaze, her presence weaving through the cracks in your resolve. You wanted to hate her. You wanted to be disgusted by her. But the warmth pooling in your chest and lower still betrayed you.
“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, your voice trembling with the mix of anger and desire coursing through you.
“And yet,” Wanda said, leaning in just enough for her breath to ghost across your cheek, “you’re still here.”
The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you hated how true they were. You were still here, still standing in her domain, still drawn to her like a moth to the flame. Wanda stepped back, her lips curving into a small smile as she motioned to the glasses again.
“Wine or yelling?” she asked, her tone lighter now, almost teasing. “Your choice.”
You shoved past Wanda, muttering, “I can do both,” grabbing the wine bottle and one of the glasses she had set down before flopping onto the plush sofa. The ridiculously comfortable cushions felt like a betrayal, cradling you in luxury when all you wanted to do was stay angry. You wrestled with the cork like it was Wanda herself, your frustration mounting as it refused to budge, until Wanda appeared beside you, her hand effortlessly grasping the bottle.
“I’ve got it,” she said, her voice calm, almost bored. You wanted to argue, to fight her for control, but you relinquished it with a huff, crossing your arms as she worked the cork out with an annoyingly practiced ease.
When the cork popped free, Wanda turned to you with a smug smile, holding the bottle up as if she’d just performed a miracle. You snatched it from her hands before she could bask in her victory, filling your glass to the brim with a deliberate lack of finesse. You didn’t care about etiquette or appearances—you needed the wine now.
The first sip was more of a gulp, the liquid burning as it slid down your throat, but you didn’t stop until you felt the tension in your chest loosen, if only slightly. Then, turning your gaze to Wanda, you let her have it.
“You’ve ruined me,” you started, pointing a finger at her while still clutching the glass tightly in your other hand. “What you did… you have no idea what this is going to do to my relationship with my father! He’s going to find out, Wanda. He always finds out, and when he does, he’s going to kill me—or worse, he’s going to toss me out like yesterday’s garbage, and it’ll be all your fault!”
Wanda stood there, unbothered as ever, holding her empty glass while you clung to the bottle like it was your lifeline. She cocked her hip, one brow arching ever so slightly as she listened to your tirade, her expression hovering somewhere between amusement and indulgence.
“And don’t even get me started on how you manipulated me!” you continued, your voice rising with each word. “You knew exactly what you were doing, pulling me into your stupid game, making me trust you, making me… making me want you!” You gestured wildly, nearly spilling the wine in your glass. “And now everything is falling apart, and you’re just standing there with your stupid smirk, acting like none of it matters!”
Your voice cracked slightly at the end, and you hated how raw you sounded, how vulnerable. Wanda’s smirk didn’t waver, though her eyes softened just a fraction as she stepped closer.
“Are you done?” she asked, her voice calm but with a dangerous edge that made your blood boil.
“No, I’m not done!” you snapped, but your words were cut short when Wanda reached down, plucked the bottle from your hands with infuriating ease, and filled her own glass. She poured slowly, methodically, the liquid swirling into the glass with a precision that felt almost insulting compared to your earlier frenzy.
“That’s enough,” she murmured to herself, her voice carrying a faint hint of amusement, as she poured just the right amount—nothing like your overly full glass. She swirled the wine delicately, her movements elegant, before taking a small, deliberate sip.
You stared at her, dumbfounded and still fuming, as she set the bottle on the coffee table and turned her attention back to you. “Feel better now?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, her smirk still firmly in place.
“No!” you barked, clutching your glass so tightly you thought it might shatter. “I—”
“You’re adorable when you’re worked up,” Wanda interrupted, her tone a mix of amusement and something deeper, something that made your skin prickle with both irritation and longing. “And I believe you are done now.”
Her blatant statement hit like a bucket of ice water, but you weren’t ready to let go of your anger just yet. “No, I’m not done,” you snapped, gesturing wildly. “Because you used me, Wanda. Manipulated me and then left me to drown in the mess you created while you walked away unscathed.”
Wanda set her glass down on the nearby table with a soft clink, her movements deliberate, almost leisurely. She stepped closer, her eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, the air felt heavier, charged with something you couldn’t quite name. “I didn’t manipulate you,” she said, her voice low and steady. “I gave you an opportunity.”
You laughed bitterly. “An opportunity? That’s rich. An opportunity for what, exactly? To ruin everything I’ve worked for? To destroy the little bit of stability I’ve managed to scrape together?”
“To survive,” Wanda interrupted, her tone cutting through your anger like a blade. “To stop being a pawn and start playing the game. Do you honestly think your precious father or your brothers have your best interests at heart? Wake up, little cub. You’re nothing more than a means to an end for them.”
Her words hit like a slap, and you hated how much they stung. “And you’re different?” you countered, your voice trembling with emotion. “What am I to you, Wanda? Another pawn? Another tool in your arsenal?”
Wanda’s eyes narrowed slightly, but the glint of amusement never quite left them. “You’re more than that,” she said, her voice carrying a weight that made your chest tighten. “But you’ll never see it if you keep clinging to this fantasy that you can trust your father to have your best interest in mind.”
“Are you serious right now?” you snapped, standing up from the couch, the glass of wine still clutched in your hand. “It’s you I can’t trust, Wanda. You’re the one who used me. So don’t stand there and act like I was some willing participant in your schemes.”
Wanda didn’t flinch, her composure as infuriating as ever. Instead, she tilted her head, studying you like a puzzle she was just starting to figure out. “I didn’t use you,” she said, her tone quiet but firm. “I simply gave you a choice. And you made it.”
“Oh, give me a break,” you scoffed, throwing up your free hand. “You knew exactly what you were doing. The flirting, the—” You broke off, heat rising to your cheeks as you recalled exactly what she’d done. “You got me to trust you, to…to desire you, and then you turned around and—”
“Did what I needed to do,” Wanda interrupted, stepping closer, her tone sharper now.
The words stung, and your anger flared again. “So what, I’m just supposed to accept that? You said I’m not a pawn, but then why do I feel like a piece on your little chess board?”
Wanda’s expression shifted, a flicker of something unguarded flashing across her face before she masked it with her usual cool demeanor. “As I said, you’re not a pawn, cub,” she said, softer this time. “But you are a player, whether you like it or not.”
The room felt heavy with the weight of her words, and you looked away, unable to hold her gaze. “You don’t get it,” you muttered, more to yourself than to her. “You don’t get what it’s like to finally have something good, something you’ve worked so hard for, only to watch it fall apart.”
Wanda reached out, her fingers brushing against your arm, grounding you in a way you didn’t expect. “I do get it,” she said quietly, her voice lacking its usual edge. “More than you know.”
You glanced at her, surprised by the sincerity in her tone. For a moment, the tension between you shifted, and you saw a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes—something raw, something real.
But then she straightened, the mask slipping back into place as she took a step closer, her presence overwhelming. “But this isn’t about what’s falling apart,” she said, her voice regaining its quiet authority. “It’s about what you’re willing to build. You’ve seen what this world is like now and what your father is ready to sacrifice to save his own face. The question is: are you going to let it crush you, or are you going to learn how to play?”
Her words hung in the air, and you hated how they made your chest tighten, how they forced you to confront the knot of fear and doubt twisting inside you. Wanda didn’t look away, her gaze steady, waiting.
Finally, you exhaled a shaky breath, your voice barely above a whisper. “And what if I don’t want to play?”
Wanda’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Oh, cub,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face, her touch lingering. “You already are, you’re not just very good at it. Yet.”
You crossed your arms, trying to hold on to the last shred of anger as fear began to seep through the cracks. Your voice wavered slightly as you asked, “But what do I even do now? What’s my next move? Because if Tony finds out… if my half-brothers find out…” You trailed off, your mind spiraling with everything you stood to lose.
Wanda’s smile faded, her expression hardening into something darker. The tenderness in her touch shifted as she cupped your face, forcing you to meet her gaze. Her eyes, normally teasing and playful, now burned with an intensity that left no room for pretense.
“Stop,” she said sharply, her voice cutting through your spiraling thoughts like a blade. “Stop thinking about them like they’re your family. They’re not. They’re opportunists, and you’re the easiest piece on their board to sacrifice if it keeps them ahead.”
You blinked, her words landing with the weight of a sledgehammer. “What are you—”
“They don’t care about you,” Wanda interrupted, her voice rising with an edge of fury. “Tony brought you into his world because it suited him. Not because he wanted to protect you, but because he saw you as a convenient asset. Something to flaunt, something to control. And your half-brothers? They see you as a threat. A wildcard they can’t predict.”
“That’s not true,” you argued weakly, though even as the words left your lips, they felt hollow. Wanda’s grip tightened slightly, her fingers firm but not painful.
“Isn’t it?” she challenged, her tone dropping to a low whisper, cutting but not cruel. “Look at how they treat you. The condescension, the exclusion, the constant reminders that you don’t belong. And do you think Tony doesn’t notice? He sees it, and he lets it happen because it keeps you in line. Keeps you desperate for his approval.”
Your chest tightened, the truth of her words pressing down on you like a weight. “But he’s my father,” you snapped. “He wouldn’t—”
“He would,” Wanda shot back, her voice fierce but steady. “And he will. The second you become a liability, the second you step out of line or threaten his precious image, he’ll cast you aside. Or worse.”
Her words sent a shiver down your spine. “Worse?” you echoed, your voice barely audible.
Wanda’s gaze softened slightly, but her voice remained unyielding. “You should be worried, cub,” she murmured. “Because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that Tony Stark doesn’t play by the rules. He never has. And his sons? They’ve learned from the best. If they feel threatened—if they think you’re more trouble than you’re worth—they won’t hesitate to eliminate that threat. Permanently.”
You stared at her, your mind racing. “You’re saying they’d—”
“I’m saying you need to stop pretending they’re anything other than what they are,” Wanda said firmly. “This isn’t some petty sibling rivalry or a dysfunctional family drama. This is survival. And if you don’t start seeing it for what it is, they’ll eat you alive.”
The words struck a nerve, and your anger reignited like a flame catching on dry wood. “You’re being unfair,” you said, stepping out of her grip. “I know Tony isn’t perfect, but he’s the only one I have left. He’s my only chance to finally have a comfortable life. Not everyone gets to sit in their goddamn penthouses and play puppet master with people’s lives. Some of us have to work for what we have. Not everyone is surrounded by—” You gestured around the room, your voice trembling with anger and envy. “—this. This power, this privilege.”
Wanda sighed, the sound long and deliberate, her anger softening as she stepped closer to you. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as if she didn’t want to push you further. “I’m not talking about privilege, cub,” she said, her voice calmer now, almost soothing. “I’m trying to warn you and show you that not everything is as it seems. Tell me—what is it you’re looking for? What do you think Tony can give you that will make you whole?”
The sincerity in her voice threw you off balance, and for a moment, you couldn’t meet her eyes. She stepped closer still, her hand brushing against your arm, grounding you in a way that only made your emotions rise to the surface.
“I…” You hesitated, your throat tightening as you tried to put your thoughts into words. “I want to make something of my life,” you admitted, the truth spilling out before you could stop it. “I want to be able to afford an education. I want to prove to myself—and everyone else—that I can be more than…this.” Your voice cracked again, but you pressed on, your eyes finally meeting hers. “I want to finally find a place where I belong.”
Wanda studied you, her gaze unwavering, and for a moment, the tension between you seemed to ease. “And you think Tony’s world will give you that?” she asked, her tone softer now but still laced with skepticism. “Do you think it’ll welcome you with open arms, or will it swallow you whole the moment you step out of line?”
You bit your lip, unable to answer.
Wanda reached out again, her touch firmer this time, tilting your chin up to meet her eyes. “I’m not your enemy, cub. I’m trying to make you see the truth before it’s too late. Because once they decide you’re not worth the risk, you won’t get another chance.”
Your hand shot up, shoving hers away, your heart pounding with a mix of emotions you couldn’t fully process. “But it’s only because of you my relationship to him is at risk in the first place. Why should I trust anything you’re saying?” you demanded, your voice trembling with the anger and hurt you’d been holding back. You turned on your heel, stalking toward the door, desperate to put some distance between yourself and the woman who had thrown your world into chaos.
But Wanda wasn’t one to let you walk away so easily. She followed, her heels clicking against the floor like a metronome of inevitability. “Because I can give you everything Tony won’t,” she said smoothly, her words stopping you dead in your tracks.
You whirled around, your brows furrowed in confusion and skepticism. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Wanda moved closer, her steps measured and deliberate, her gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. Her eyes roamed over your face, as though searching for every unspoken thought, every hidden emotion. “It means,” she began, her voice low and threaded with a dangerous intimacy, “that he will never give you what you crave—what you deserve. It’s time you stop clinging to illusions and see the truth for what it is.”
Her words hung heavy in the air, but she didn’t stop. Her voice dipped even lower, like a velvet blade cutting through your defenses. “I meant what I said that night. Every word. When I told you that you were mine, it wasn’t some fleeting claim. I meant it. I still do and I take care of what's mine.”
Your scowl deepened, and you took a step back, shaking your head. “Are you fucking kidding me? That was just something we said while fucking. I don’t belong to you,” you snapped, the words sharp and unyielding. “I’m not some possession you can just claim.”
Wanda chuckled at that, a low, rich sound that made your skin prickle. Her hand lifted again, this time her nail lightly tracing down your cheek. The sensation sent a shiver through you despite your best efforts to remain unaffected. “Oh, I’m not kidding, little cub,” she murmured, her tone dripping with amusement. “But I also know you’re far too stubborn to be anyone’s possession.”
Your lips parted, ready to lash out again, but the glint in Wanda’s eyes stopped you.
She tilted her head slightly, her gaze dipping to the floor before returning to yours, her voice calm but charged with meaning. “You think this is about possession? About control?” she asked, her tone laced with a quiet intensity. “You’re smarter than that. You know it’s more.”
You crossed your arms defensively, the gesture as much to protect yourself from her words as from her piercing gaze. “Then stop dancing around it and just say what you mean, Wanda. What is this really about?”
A faint, humorless smile curved Wanda’s lips as she stepped back, breaking the suffocating tension between you. Her gaze flickered, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw something softer beneath the sharpness in her eyes. But as she exhaled, the air between you shifted, the weight of her next words pressing down before she even spoke.
“Very well, let's place all the cards on the table, my little cub,” she began, her voice steady, deliberate. She paused, letting the words settle like a loaded gun on the table. “At first… it was all a game, yes. But a necessary one.”
Her expression didn’t falter, but the slight tilt of her head, the calculating look in her eyes, spoke volumes. She was gauging you, assessing the impact of each syllable. “I suspected Tony was breaching our contract. The numbers didn’t align, the discrepancies were too glaring. I needed proof. And you…” Her lips curved into the faintest smile—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You were the perfect way in.”
The words hit harder than you expected, the admission cutting through the fog of your frustration. Your fists clenched at your sides as she continued, her tone as calm as if she were recounting a business deal.
“You’re clever, determined,” she said, her gaze sweeping over you. “But so desperate to prove yourself to a man who barely sees you, it made you predictable. The way you looked at me…” Wanda let the sentence trail off, a flicker of amusement crossing her face as she tilted her head slightly, studying you as though she still held all the cards. “It made things easy.”
Her confession was surgical, calculated, leaving no room for denial. Your chest tightened, your mind spinning as she stepped closer, her movements slow, deliberate. “I noticed everything,” she said, her voice dipping lower. “The way your eyes lingered when I entered a room. The way your breath hitched when I touched your arm. How you tried so hard to seem unaffected, when it was obvious I was already under your skin.”
Her smirk returned, sharper this time, the edge of it making your stomach twist. “I enjoyed it,” she admitted, her tone smooth and unrepentant. “Watching you fumble, watching you try so hard to keep your composure while I unraveled it with a glance. It was…” She paused, the word hanging in the air before she allowed herself to finish. “Exhilarating.”
You glared at her, your chest tightening with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “So, that’s it? I was right all along, I was just a pawn in one of your games.”
Wanda tilted her head, and the flicker of amusement in her eyes dimmed, replaced by something darker. “You were a means to an end,” she said bluntly, but her voice softened as she continued. “Until you weren’t.”
The sudden shift in her tone caught you off guard, and she turned her gaze to the skyline, her back to you. Her posture was rigid, her hands clasped behind her as if to keep herself grounded. “What I didn’t anticipate,” she said, her voice quieter now, “was how much you’d linger. Even after I had what I needed, even after I should have moved on. You were supposed to be just another piece on the board.”
She let out a low, frustrated sigh, as though the very admission tasted bitter on her tongue. “But you became distraction, a constant figure on my mind. Every meeting, every glance—every time I should have been thinking two steps ahead, I was thinking about you.”
Her shoulders tensed as she turned to face you again, her expression carefully composed, though her eyes betrayed the storm beneath the surface. “I don’t allow distractions,” she said, her voice clipped. “And yet, here you are. Taking up space in my mind when you shouldn’t.”
You stared at her, torn between anger and something you couldn’t quite name. “Why are you telling me this?” you asked, your voice rough.
“Because you need to understand,” Wanda said firmly, stepping closer until the distance between you was almost nonexistent. Her voice dropped, her words deliberate. “You weren’t just a game. Not anymore. And that makes you dangerous—to me, to yourself, to everyone in this world who sees vulnerability as an opportunity.”
Her gaze bore into yours, and for the first time, you saw a crack in her armor. “But I can’t let you go,” she murmured, almost to herself before turning back towards the window. “And that terrifies me more than anything.”
You stood there, stunned, watching her as she wrestled with her own emotions. Part of you wanted to walk away, to throw her words back in her face and leave her to stew in her own guilt and desire. But another part of you—the part that had been drawn to her from the start—couldn’t look away.
Your gaze stayed fixed on Wanda’s back, the way her shoulders rose and fell with every steady breath, her posture poised but tense. But before you could decide whether to step closer or retreat to the door, Wanda turned around, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip. Her dark gaze held you captive, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.
“I’ve always trusted my instincts,” Wanda said, her voice calm yet resolute, as though revealing an unshakable truth. She gestured subtly to the sprawling penthouse around her, a faint, self-assured smile gracing her lips. Confidence radiated from her like the glow of city lights through the massive windows. “It’s what brought me here—to all of this. Every calculated move, every risk taken, has led me exactly where I wanted to be. And now, my instincts are telling me to go after what I want again.”
Her gaze shifted back to you, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the charged silence between you. Her eyes, dark and searching, pinned you in place, leaving nowhere to hide. “And that,” she continued, her voice softening but no less potent, “is why guilt has clung to me like a shadow. For using you. For the way I must have made you feel—betrayed, discarded, insignificant.”
She paused, her jaw tightening slightly as though the admission cost her something. “It’s maddening, really,” she added, her tone dipping lower, carrying a raw edge. “Because you’re justified in your anger, and yet I can’t bring myself to regret the choices that brought us here. To this moment.”
Her words hit like a tidal wave, pulling you under with the weight of their honesty. Wanda exhaled slowly, her posture softening, but the intensity in her gaze never wavered. “But know this,” she said firmly, “my instincts led me to you—not just for what I needed, but for what I want. And I’ve never wanted anything quite like this.”
Your heart stuttered at the admission, a flicker of hope sparking before she continued.
“But at the same time,” she continued, her tone sharpening with intent, “I’m not sorry for stripping away your rose-colored view of this world you so desperately idolize. You’ve put your father on a pedestal he hasn’t earned, in a world where loyalty is as brittle as spun glass and there our people out there far way dangerous than me. This life you’re chasing, with all its glitz and power, isn’t some gilded dream. It’s a battlefield where knives come dressed as smiles, and only the ruthless survive. It’s about time you see it for the unrelenting, brutal machine it truly is.”
Her words struck a nerve, and before you knew it, your frustration spilled over again. “Oh, don’t you dare,” you snapped, taking a step forward. “Don’t you stand there and act like you did me some kind of favor, Wanda. You didn’t do this for me. You did it for you.”
Wanda’s brows arched, but she didn’t interrupt. She let you continue, her calm only fueling your frustration.
“You used me,” you continued, your voice rising. “You looked at me, saw someone you could manipulate, and you didn’t care what it would cost me—none of it mattered to you as long as you got what you wanted.”
She remained silent for a beat, her gaze steady, taking in your words like she was weighing them. Then she tilted her head, her lips curving into a faint, almost sad smile. “You’re right,” she said simply, her tone devoid of defensiveness or regret. “I didn’t care—at first.”
Her response only stoked your anger further. “At first?” you repeated, your voice dripping with disbelief. “And now? Now you expect me to what—thank you? Forgive you?”
“No,” she said, her tone soft but firm, taking a step closer to you. “I don’t expect anything from you, cub.”
Her words stopped you in your tracks and Wanda stepped closer, her eyes searching yours, her presence overwhelming. “You’re angry,” she continued, her voice dropping lower. “And you should be. But not just at me. You’re angry at Tony, at your brothers, at the whole damn system that’s been stacked against you from the start.”
Her words hit too close to home, and you recoiled slightly, trying to put space between you. But Wanda followed, her hand brushing against your arm, her gaze never wavering. “And you’re angry at yourself,” she added, “because even after everything I’ve done. You still want me.”
You flinched at her words, your chest tightening as you tried to find a retort, something to deny the truth she was laying bare. But the silence stretched between you, and Wanda stepped back slightly, giving you room to breathe.
“I never meant to make you feel like this,” she admitted, her voice low and steady. “But I can’t take back what I’ve done. All I can do now is ask you—what do you want to do next?”
Her words hit you hard and you wanted to run away from the truth she spoke, because she was right. God did you want her, even after everything, but it also spurred on your anger, and you threw your hands up in exasperation. “You know what, Wanda? You’re so full of bullshit and I don’t owe you any answers, I owe you nothing,” you hissed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and exhaustion.
Wanda raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching in faint amusement at your defiance. She crossed her arms, leaning slightly back against the window frame, her posture casual, like this was just another power play.
“What do you want from me exactly?” you demanded, stepping closer, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Because I swear to god, if this is just another game, I’m going to lose it.”
Her eyes softened, but the intensity didn’t waver as she pushed off the window frame and took a measured step toward you.
“You’re here,” she said, her voice quieter now, more deliberate, “because I couldn’t leave it at what it was. At one night, one… mistake.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the admission. “A mistake?” you repeated, your voice sharp, though your chest tightened at the thought that’s how Wanda saw you.
“Not you,” she clarified, her gaze steady, though there was a hint of something raw beneath the surface. “The way I handled things. I didn’t think you’d get under my skin the way you have, and all I want now is to teach you how to survive in this world, preferably by my side.”
Her words hung in the air, and you stood there, frozen, unsure whether to believe her or to push her away.
Wanda let out a small, almost self-deprecating laugh as she looked away briefly, her hand brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s silly really, I told myself it was just business,” she continued, her voice dipping lower, more vulnerable. “You were a means to an end. And I thought I could walk away from it, that I could leave you behind once I got what I needed.”
She met your gaze again, her eyes dark and unflinching. “But I just can’t force myself to walk away,” she admitted, her voice gaining strength. “I can’t stop myself from wanting you.”
Her confession hit you like a freight train, leaving you reeling as you tried to process the shift in her tone, in her entire demeanor. This wasn’t the composed, calculating Wanda you’d come to know. This was someone else—someone raw, conflicted, and startlingly human.
“Maybe you just haven’t tried hard enough,” you muttered as your hurt bled through. The words hung in the air like a challenge, daring her to react, but Wanda remained unmoved. Her expression stayed infuriatingly calm, her silence digging under your skin like a splinter.
Frustration bubbling, you pressed on, your tone dropping into something quieter but no less cutting. “After everything you’ve done—using me, lying to me—why should I believe a single word you say?”
Wanda stepped closer, her movements slow and deliberate, as if giving you the chance to pull away. “You don’t have to believe me,” she said softly, her hand hovering near your cheek but not touching you. “But I’ve been in this world long enough to know what I want. And I want you, here, by my side.”
Her words sent a shiver through you, and you hated how they made your chest tighten, how they pulled at the part of you that still craved her despite everything.
“You must be joking,” you scoffed, as you searched her eyes for answers. “Why now?”
Wanda’s lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile, her confidence never wavering. “Because you’re the first person who made me remember who I was before all of this. You make me want something real.”
The room fell silent, her confession lingering in the air, heavy and charged. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to reconcile the Wanda standing in front of you with the one who had torn your world apart. All you knew was that you couldn’t look away.
The silence between you felt deafening, a charged stillness filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Wanda’s gaze was unwavering as she waited for you to say something, anything. But your thoughts were a whirlwind, spinning too fast to catch hold of.
You took a shaky breath, trying to find your footing in the chaos she’d just unleashed. “You… you can’t just say things like that,” you finally managed, your voice wavered. “You can’t just tear apart my life and then tell me I make you want something real. That’s not how this works, Wanda.”
Wanda’s eyes softened, but the intensity never left them. “I know,” she said. “And I don’t expect you to forgive me. Not yet.”
“Not ever,” you corrected sharply, though your voice lacked the venom you wanted it to carry. You took a step back, your arms wrapping around yourself like a shield. “You can’t just fix this with pretty words and… and confessions.”
Her lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. “I’m not trying to fix it, cub. I’m trying to give you the truth. Something I should’ve done from the start.”
You scoffed, shaking your head. “The truth? After all the lies, now you decide to give me the truth?” You turned away, pacing to the other side of the room in a futile attempt to put distance between you. “What am I supposed to do with that, huh? Just let it wipe the slate clean?”
“No,” Wanda said firmly, and you turned back to find her watching you with a calm that only added to your frustration. “You’re supposed to decide what you want.”
There it was again—that infuriating deflection, throwing the responsibility back on you. “You keep saying that,” you snapped, your voice rising. “What I want, what I’m going to do. But you’re the one who dragged me into this, Wanda! You used me, manipulated me, and now you’re acting like this is my decision to make? Like it’s all on me?”
Wanda stepped forward, closing the distance you’d tried to create. “Because it is,” she said, her voice low but unyielding. “You can hate me, you can walk away and never look back. Or you can stay. But that choice has to be yours.”
Her words cut deeper than you wanted to admit, and you found yourself trembling, overwhelmed by the weight of it all. “Why do you even care?” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Why does it matter to you what I choose?”
Wanda sighed, her gaze softening as she reached out, her fingers ghosting over your arm before pulling back. “Because,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve spent my whole life taking what I want. But with you… I don’t want to take. I want you to choose me.”
Her vulnerability was like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of you. For a moment, you stood there, staring at her, trying to process the shift in power, the way she was laying herself bare in a way you’d never expected.
“I don’t know if I can,” you admitted, your voice trembling with the weight of the truth. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”
Wanda nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving yours. “Then let me prove to you that I’m worth trusting,” she said, her voice steady. “Let me show you that I can be more than what I’ve been. For you.”
Her words hung in the air, and you felt the ground shift beneath you, the walls you’d built around yourself trembling under the weight of her sincerity. You wanted to believe her, but you weren’t sure if you could.
“I really don’t want to be another pawn in your games Wanda, it’s not the life I wanna live,” you sighed as you looked out of the window.
Wanda tilted her head, her gaze softening just enough to make your heart skip a beat. “Oh honey, you’re not just some pawn. You’re the queen I didn’t see coming.”
Your resolve cracked, crumbled, and finally shattered under the weight of her gaze and the intensity of her words. You felt your shoulders slump as the fight drained out of you, and Wanda didn’t miss a beat. She moved toward you with purpose, but this time, there was a softness to her, a care in the way she reached for you, as though she was afraid you’d bolt if she pushed too hard.
Her hands found your arms, grounding you as she leaned in close, her breath brushing against your temple. “There you are,” she murmured, her voice low and reverent, as though the sight of you letting your walls down was something sacred. “I’ve been waiting for this.”
You looked up at her, torn between anger, confusion, and the undeniable pull she had over you. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, your voice trembling, but even you could hear how weak your protest sounded.
“And yet,” Wanda replied with a small, knowing smile, “you’re still here.”
Her fingers brushed along your jaw, tilting your chin up so you couldn’t look anywhere but at her. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” she asked, her voice dropping lower, softer. “How much I think about you? Not just your sharp tongue or your quick wit—though, God knows, I love how you fight me—but the way you fumble when you’re nervous. The way you stutter when you’re trying to act tough. It’s maddening.”
You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as her words washed over you. “You… you don’t get to say these things,” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction. “Not after everything.”
Wanda chuckled, a low, velvety sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, but I do,” she said, her lips curling into a smirk. “Because they’re true. And because I want you to know that this—” She gestured between you, her eyes searching yours. “—this isn’t a game to me.”
Her hands slid down your arms, her touch featherlight, until they rested on your hips, holding you with a tenderness that was at odds with her usual dominance. “I want all of you,” she said softly. “Your wit, your fire, your stubbornness. Even the way you look at me like you want to slap me one second and kiss me the next.”
Your breath hitched, and Wanda’s eyes darkened, her lips twitching into a small smile. “And I want you to want me,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not because I’ve taken you, but because you’ve chosen me.”
Her words hit you like a tidal wave, sweeping away the last of your defenses. “Wanda…” you started, but the rest of the sentence got caught in your throat.
“I mean it,” she said, her voice steady, her gaze unwavering. “You can walk away, and I’ll let you go. I won’t chase you. But if you stay…” Her fingers tightened slightly on your hips, her voice dropping to a low murmur. “If you stay, I’ll give you everything.”
Her lips brushed against yours, not as a demand but as a question, a plea for you to decide. Her warmth, her scent, the quiet passion behind her words—it all worked together, breaking down the last of your resistance.
And then you kissed her back.
The response was immediate. Wanda deepened the kiss, her hands sliding down to grip your waist as she pulled you flush against her. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty—only the certainty that she wanted you, and she wanted you to choose her.
You melted into her touch, your mind a whirl of emotions that refused to settle. The anger, the betrayal, the hurt—they were still there, simmering just beneath the surface. But above all of that was something raw and undeniable: the intoxicating feeling of being wanted. For the first time in your life, someone looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, like they would burn the world down just to have you.
Wanda kissed you with a passion that felt almost consuming, her hands tracing down your body with a mix of reverence and possession. And god, even as your brain screamed at you to remember the betrayal, the lies, you couldn’t ignore the way your body craved her. The way your heart betrayed you, pounding harder with every brush of her lips, every whispered breath.
You clung to her as if she were the only thing tethering you to the moment, your hands gripping the fabric of her shirt, desperate to keep her close. “Wanda…” you murmured against her lips, your voice trembling with a mix of need and hesitation.
Her lips left yours briefly, only to trail along your jaw, down your neck, her breath warm against your skin. “Say it,” she whispered, her voice low and husky. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”
Your eyes fluttered shut as her words washed over you, your chest tightening. “I… I shouldn’t,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “But I do. God, I do.”
Wanda pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands cupping your face as her intense gaze pinned you in place. “Good,” she murmured, her voice soft but resolute. “Because I don’t just want you. I need you. Every sharp retort, every nervous glance, every piece of you that you think isn’t enough—I want it all.”
Her words hit you like a tidal wave, and you exhaled shakily, your grip on her tightening. “You… you make it very hard to stay angry at you,” you confessed, a weak attempt at deflection as your lips curved into a bittersweet smile. “Even when I want to hate you.”
Wanda’s lips twitched into a small, knowing smirk, though there was a tenderness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “That’s because deep down,” she murmured, leaning in so her lips brushed against your ear, “you don’t want to hate me. You never did.”
A shiver ran down your spine as her words settled deep in your chest, undeniable in their truth. She was right. You didn’t want to hate her. You wanted her. You had always wanted her.
And so, you let go. Of the anger, of the fear, of the part of you that always doubted you deserved to be wanted this way. You kissed her with all the pent-up longing, all the frustration, all the need you’d been holding back, and Wanda met you with equal fervor. Her hands gripped your waist as she pulled you closer, as if trying to merge the space between you completely.
As she lowered you onto the sofa, her lips never leaving yours, a part of you whispered that this was dangerous, reckless, that you were diving headfirst into the fire. But another part of you—the part that had longed to be wanted, to be seen—welcomed the flames. And for the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you deserved to burn.