One and Only

By Fia Wolf

Bianca Farrell, married to a wealthy hitman, has it all: money, status, and the ability to solve every problem in her life with drugs. But when her brother returns to town and seeks to reunite their old friend group, she realizes that she can't keep solving everything with a pill or a glass of champagne.

As she struggles to reconnect with her emotions and her past friends, she must also navigate the rocky terrain of her marriage. Neil's profession comes with a territory - but is the relationship truly worth all the trouble, and how much of Neil's feelings for her are out of convenience?

"One and Only" is a gripping tale of love, loss, and redemption that will keep readers on the edge of their seats until the very last page. Author Fia Wolf takes readers on a wild ride through the glamorous but dangerous world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fia Wolf
• Release date: Mar 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215341162

Book preview

One and Only

Fia Wolf

Distributed by Smashwords.

This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places are all products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2023 Fia Wolf.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without a written permission of the copyright owner.

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of

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Cover design by Fia Wolf.

For my darkling, and to all the stories we’ve yet to write together.

1 - Keeping A High Profile

Some nights, despite the perfect-temperature water and rose-scented foam caressing her skin, Bianca did not know if the beauty in her everyday life was worth the uncertainty in it.

The answer was yes, of course. It had always been yes, it would always be yes. She had chosen her path years ago, and it was not that she was uncomfortable in her position or in her role - Neil saw to it that she never lacked anything in her life.

It was just that when the nights stretched long like this, her imagination started to run wild. She imagined blood on the walls, his body in a ditch somewhere, skin slowly turning cold, a lock in the door that would never open again under his key.

She had imagined his death countless times on countless nights, and today was adding new scenarios on the list. Her bleached curls floated in the water as she slipped her ears below the water surface to drown out the silence of the house, exchanging it to the sound of blood rushing in her ears. A steady heartbeat, alive.

There was an empty wine glass and a half-open pillbox at the edge of the bathtub. When the anxiety had gripped her heart too tightly to breathe she had placed a white, round helper on her tongue and flushed it down with opulent, smoky red wine that left stains on the corners of her lips.

She had known the rules when she had moved in here. No hysterics, no questions about Neil’s job, no disobeying his orders or turning down his requests.

On nights like these, drugs helped.

Bianca let out a deep sigh and pushed herself to sit straight, the water level settling around her solar plexus. The light reflected from the water surface and painted whimsical shapes on the black and gold marble walls. She allowed herself a moment to admire the sight, a moment to gather herself enough to stand up and dry off with a large, fluffy towel.

Every detail of every step was perfect. The rose gold morning gown, made of expensive satin that caressed her skin, the long kitchen isles she had polished clean and shiny before her bath, the wine that she had opened and poured into a gold-rimmed wine glass.

From behind the thin curtains she could see the nearest neighbouring house some hundred metres away, the perfectly kept yard and flawless lawn - only two lilac trees were allowed in the yard for a spot of colour, anything else Neil considered too high-maintenance.

She poured more wine into her glass and walked from the kitchen to the bedroom. The long foyer between was dimly lit, the code lock at the door shining its tiny red light against the handle.

This was the only part of the house where there was a clock on the wall, and the only part where she could hear the steady tick-tock sound and set her steps to its pace. Tick for the left foot, tock for the right.

It was midnight soon. Bianca paused at the door of the bedroom. If she would enter, the motion detection would turn on the star-like lights at the ceiling as well as the backlit mirror she used for dressing.

But to enter alone?

The thought registered through the haze of her mind as painful.

As she turned back to the foyer she heard a car parking on the driveway. Her heart leaped: in the first months here it had done so out of fear, because Neil had warned her about people who might seek to enter, warned her that if and when she would be alone at home, she should never open her door to anyone.

Over time she had learned to tell apart this sound from others. Bianca adjusted a smile on her face - not too relieved, not too tired - as she left the wine glass on the round foyer glass table, next to a succulent.

The sound of the car door opening, then closing. Bianca adjusted her morning gown a bit as she stepped closer to the door. Heavy, familiar steps. A key at the door, the six digits of the code, a click, and then the door opened.

Hi, Bianca exhaled as she took in her husband. Dark brown hair, slightly tousled and with a hint of sweat, tanned skin, sculpted features. His coal grey suit was a tailored fit, the silvery tie a gift from a particularly grateful customer. Bianca knew his eyes to be dark green, but at night and low light they often became colourless and grey.

No bloodstains, no injuries. No signs of limp in his step as Neil closed the door and stepped in to take his shoes off, then straightened his back with a heavy grunt.

Hey, starling, he murmured and closed the distance between them. His arms around her were strong and firm, and Bianca leaned into the embrace gratefully.

Neil was home.

Are you hungry? Do you want to eat? These were the ways she was allowed to express affection. No questions, she had to constantly tell herself. Do not ask about the customers, do not ask how much they pay. Do not ask how many bodies your husband left behind tonight.

Don’t worry about any of that, and I promise you won’t have to worry about anything else, either. Ever.

It had been his promise, and she had agreed to it.

Later, Neil whispered and tightened his arms around her. Bedroom.

The single word sent a pleasant shiver down Bianca’s spine. She nodded, even when it had not been in the form of a question. Neil brushed his lips against Bianca’s neck, inhaling deep the floral scent before starting to guide her along the hallway, not letting go of her. Bianca did her best to not to stumble against the walls or the furniture, but the wine and the white pill from earlier were still taking effect.

Careful, he pointed out when she stumbled on the edge of her morning gown and would have bumped spectacularly against the foyer wall, had Neil not grabbed her arm for balance.

The lights activated as soon as they entered, but Neil reached for the light controller to turn them to the lowest setting. His fingers were undoing the tie as soon as the controller dropped on the bed, then his belt. Bianca was happy she only had to shrug the morning gown off her shoulders and sit down.

Despite her best attempts, it was sometimes hard to keep up with Neil. Harder when she had taken something for her nervousness. He did not seem to mind, but she did not want to disappoint, she wanted to be…

You want to be good for me, don’t you, starling? His voice was husky and low, one hand resting on her shoulder and his dominant hand undoing the buttons of his vest, then the buttons of his shirt. Bianca shivered at the sight, putting it off from her mind that there was a long bruise along his collarbones, angry and dark.

I do, she whispered and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him on top of her to the bed.

Please.

Please pick up your phone.

Neil was gone when Bianca woke up the next morning. The sunlight that shifted through the blinds painted white stripes on the bedroom wall and attempted to wash away what remained of her grogginess.

It did not do as good a job as seeing she had two missed phone calls and one unread message. Her hands started to shake as she quickly unlocked her screen and scanned the information. One call from her mom, one from Celio. The message was from Celio, too.

She let out a heavy sigh of both disappointment and relief. Nothing from Neil. Everything else could wait.

Celio called her once every week or every other week, usually just to ask how she was doing. Bianca had managed a very convincing lie about a part-time job that had odd hours until he had asked an unfair question about what kind of job exactly it was.

She did not hate her older brother. Not even when her experience in having one was very ordinary, and very far from the fairytale experience fiction often presented it as - it had been a life of being shoved, competing in everything, and always falling second to Celio, at everything.

The only person who ever had made Bianca feel like she was precious and important had been her dad, but he had been gone for almost ten years now. Celio and mom had done their time with grief and then moved on, but Bianca had somehow managed to make resentment into her final stage of grief.

She resented the world for taking her dad away. She could not help resenting her mom for having gotten over it so thoroughly, and her dad for leaving her. And Celio was almost impossible to not resent, what with how perfect he was at everything.

So unlike Bianca, who had dropped out from university before getting her degree after starting to date a man twice her age. There had been a lot of crying and yelling involved when Celio had found out.

Neither Celio nor their mom had attended her wedding - Celio because he did not want to, her mom because she still did not know Bianca was even seeing anyone, let alone married.

Not that she minded - it had been a small occasion anyway, Neil had insisted that the total number of people in the room would not be over ten at any given moment - but she did remember.

Usually Celio just called, though. Usually he did not leave her a message. And it had been a while since her mom had called her, either.

She pushed herself up from the bed and found a long, bamboo lounge dress from the wardrobe, perfectly comfortable with a foliage silhouette at the hem and perfectly acceptable to tend the house in with a fashionable knot on the fabric at her left hip.

The coffee machine was still on - she had preloaded it the night before, all Neil had to do was to press the button once he woke up - which meant that Neil had not left that long ago. Bianca found a porcelain cup from the cupboard and poured the rest of the coffee in, sweetened with sugar, softened with milk.

Outside the world was rushing to responsibilities, but here she could breathe in and breathe out as she contemplated which one she would call back.

Celio, she decided after a moment’s hesitation. After Neil had entered Bianca’s life, she had started avoiding talking to her mom, because what would she talk about? She could not mention she was dating someone so much older, and nowadays Neil filled almost every corner and crevice of her life.

Not that her mother had seemed to care about her disappearance. Celio had acted passive-aggressively towards Bianca for about half a year after the marriage, but now, over two years after it, their relationship was tense and stable. Her mother just sent birthday and Christmas wishes.

Like ripping off a bandaid, Bianca told herself as she headed to the bathroom. Do it quickly, do it efficiently, do it as a part of your morning beauty routine, and do it in the bathroom so you can wash off the sticky feeling if it bothers you afterwards.

First, the oil cleanser. Her beauty routine before meeting Neil had been soap and water, any mascara remnants under her eyes could have been removed with a q-tip. As she gently massaged her face, she slipped on her headphones, activated the bluetooth and selected Celio’s number.

Celio picked up when she was in the process of rinsing the second cleanser from her face.

Bianca? Are you drowning? His voice had plenty in terms of amusement and very little in terms of actual concern.

Sure, she replied dryly, patting her face clean with a white, small, soft towel. No, I’m washing my face. You called me last night.

And you didn’t pick up, Celio sighed with faked patience. An office chair creaked on the line as he sat down, then there was the sharp sound of a spoon stirring coffee in a ceramic cup. How are you doing?

I’m doing fine. Did you call me just to ask me how I’m doing? Bianca ran her finger across the small bottles on the shelf, decided to skip exfoliating and picked up the rose toner.

Not just that, but it was one reason, Celio admitted and sipped his coffee in a needlessly loud manner. Mom wants to know how you’re doing.

I’m doing fine, and you can tell her that. Bianca could not quite keep the biting from her voice. Mom talked with Celio almost daily, if not in a call then through instant messages. Anything she would tell Celio, her mom would find out about as well.

Except for Neil. Celio had been sharp and absolute in letting Bianca know she would have to reveal her secret marriage sooner or later - he would not be doing it in her stead. Instead, he would drop comments about it.

You know there’s only so much I can say about your life without mentioning your sugar daddy.

"My husband, Bianca corrected him indignantly as she patted the essence on her skin, followed by an anti-aging serum. Neil. When are you going to call him by his name?"

I’m guessing around the same time I actually want to meet him, which I don’t see happening in the immediate future. Celio placed his cup on the table. Bianca adjusted a mask on her face, took her phone and headed back to the kitchen to fetch her own cup of coffee while waiting for the mask to take effect. The sullen silence stretched.

Finally, Celio sighed.

I’m going to be staying in the city for some weeks, maybe some months, he noted. "I was thinking