A Debt Owed: Chapter 1
A Debt Owed (A Dark Billionaire Romance) (The Debt Duet Book 1)
Present, Age 23
A bird locked in a cage wonât ever be happy. One day, itâll fly away into oblivion.
This diner where my father waits for me makes me feel like a caged bird. His mere gaze makes me choke on my own breath again.
Nothing has changed.
I shouldnât have answered his desperate call and come here. But I canât turn away now. Itâs too late; heâs already seen me.
What if he has something important to say? What if heâs sick or dying?
I donât want to be that jerk who doesnât show up when itâs the last time you could ever see each other. When itâs the last time a father and daughter could make amends. Everyone desperately wants to love their parents, even the damaged ones. The ones who use and break without a single thought. Thatâs my father in a nutshell ⦠and for years, I let him.
But not anymore. Iâm finally working hard and living on my own without his help, and Iâm proud of it.
But no pride reflects in his eyes. Nothing exists except misery and hatred.
âCharlotte,â he mumbles, and I bend over to kiss him on the cheeks. âSit down, we have to talk,â he says, and he snaps his fingers at the waitress who glares back at him.
Way to get to the point, Father.
âHello to you too,â I say, chuckling it off.
God, itâs been such a long time ago since we last saw each other, and Iâm immediately reminded why.
âHow are things ⦠at work?â he asks, clearing his throat while he makes it sound as though he doesnât believe I actually work.
âItâs fine,â I lie.
The truth is that I quit my job as a daycare provider in order to start my own business to support families in need with supplies and advice. I want to do something more fulfilling, but investors are tough to come by ⦠especially when they donât trust me and my idea. For now, Iâm pulling money from my savings account to pay for my rent, but Iâm not about to tell him that. Even though itâs soon run out, I wonât ever ask him for help.
âHowâs Elijah doing?â I ask, avoiding the topic.
âYour brother? Oh, heâs ⦠well, heâs busy, as always,â my father says, waving it away. âBut enough about that. Do you want some coffee?â Father asks. Before I can answer, heâs already ordered my drink for me. âOne cappuccino.â I donât even like cappuccino, but Iâll take it.
âThanks,â I mutter. âSo how have you been?â
âAwful,â he says, slurping his coffee. âJust like this coffee. Donât you have anything better?â he snarls at the waitress.
She shrugs. âSorry, sir. Thatâs our best blend.â
âBland indeed,â he says, rolling his eyes.
âFather,â I mutter.
Has he always been like this? Probably. I made him seem better in my mind just to cope.
âNo, they should make better coffee,â he growls while the waitress places down my cappuccino in front of me.
âWhy did you even wanna meet at this place if you donât like it here?â I ask.
âBecause itâs the only option I had.â He clears his throat. âConsidering my budget.â
âBudget?â I frown and lean back in my seat. âWait, you donât mean to sayââ
âThe business is not going well,â he interjects, but it sounds as though heâs grossly understating things. âBut you already knew that. I told you a while ago when I asked you for help.â
âYes,â I say, folding my arms, âand I specifically remember saying no.â
âI know you did, but listen â¦â He takes in a deep breath and licks his thin lips. âIâm on the brink of losing everything. I did the only thing I could. I got a loan.â
âSo? What does that have to do with me?â I ask, not touching my cappuccino. I know where this is going. Iâm almost inclined to leave right now, but I donât wanna jump to conclusions too quickly.
âEverything,â he says. âYouâre my last hope.â
âReally? What about your wife then? Canât she pitch in?â I snort.
âSheâs left me.â He swallows as if he didnât see it coming from a mile away.
I raise a brow. âLet me guess, she ran away with all your money?â
He narrows his eyes at me, but itâs all I need.
âFigured.â I sigh. âI tried to warn you.â
âCharlotte,â he says in a condescending tone. âYouâre my daughter.â
âSo?â I suck on my bottom lip. He canât play on my emotions, not now.
âA loan always needs to be repaid. And part of the agreement was that youââ
âNo,â I interrupt, my heart palpitating. âTell me you didnât.â
He closes his lips and stares me down, which tells me he really did do it.
âNo, not happening,â I say, shaking my head. âHow dare you try this on me again?â
âItâs too late. The deal has already been made,â he replies.
My heart stops. âWhat?!â
I get up, and with a flat hand, I slap his face. The whole place has gone quiet, and everybodyâs looking at us, but I donât care. âI am not an object you can trade for money! Iâm your daughter!â
I refuse to become that woman who belongs to someone like some sort of pet. I want to be independent, someone with her own business and her own life. No man will ever make that happen, and no man can make me as happy as my independence does.
Father reaches for my hand, but I pull it away before he can grab it. âCharlotte, youâll be happy with this man. I promise you.â
My father has always tried to control me by telling me what school to go to, how to dress, and what to say. When I didnât listen, he scolded me ⦠sometimes, he even hit me.
And now, heâs gone and traded me to some man in exchange for a loan.
âNo. You canât say that. You canât do this to me.â I shake him off and try to walk away.
Right then, the door to the establishment opens and in walks a handsome, suited-up man with wavy dark hair, a cleft chin ⦠and an insufferably arrogant grin on his face.
My eyes widen, and I begin to stutter. âEaston â¦â
Easton Van Buren ⦠once a simple waiter in my fatherâs restaurant with big dreams, heâs now a notorious business mogul who opens clubs all around the world. We first met at my fatherâs second wedding when we were still kids, and now we meet again ⦠at what seems to be mine.
âHello, Charlotte,â he muses, his voice still as salacious as I remember. âHow nice of you to be here too. Right on time.â
No, this canât be happening. Not here ⦠and not with him. Even though he sure looks like James freaking Bond when he walks and talks, I know he has an ulterior motive, and itâs anything but good.
He walks toward me and briefly grazes my arm, but the implications are huge.
âYou,â I mutter in complete shock. âWhy are you â¦?â
He licks his lips, and a wicked smile forms on his face. But those eyes ⦠those dazzling blue eyes only show contempt and vengeance.
âNo,â I mutter.
âYes,â he murmurs. âIâm the one who lent money to your father, and I want you as payment for that debt.â
For a few seconds, all I can do is stare. Then my palm instinctively comes up to slap him. However, he grabs my wrist before I can even come close.
âAh-ah, Charlotte. Thatâs not nice. Hasnât your father taught you manners?â
I spit in his face. âAsshole.â
He wipes off the spit with one hand. âNow, now ⦠it seems Iâll have to teach you to behave.â
My father clears his throat as if to grab his attention. âI take it youâll accept this agreement then?â
âOh, yes.â The way Easton says it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
âWhat?â I mutter. I canât believe this. He honestly sold me to a rich asshole just to get rid of his loan? âIâm not a bargaining chip!â I exclaim. âHow dare you?â
Easton grabs my chin, and says, âI dare because Iâve wanted nothing more than to own you, and now I do.â The smirk that follows makes me want to smack him, but I donât think heâd let me.
âIâm not an object. Iâm a person, and I donât fucking agree with any of this,â I hiss, glaring right back at him, so he knows I mean it.
âTsk ⦠weâll have to do something about that dirty mouth of yours,â he growls, licking his lips. âAnd I know just the thing.â
He grabs my wrist and drags me toward the door.
âLet go of me!â I yell, punching his arm, but heâs too strong for me.
âNo, Charlotte,â he says. âYouâre mine now to do with as I please.â
âAre you insane? Do you think youâll get away with this?â I stare him down. âYou donât scare me.â
My eyes widen as he lifts up his shirt to reveal a gun.
âDo I scare you now?â he murmurs.
When I nod, a grin spreads on his lips that remind me of the devil.
âGood,â he says. âNow ⦠donât make a scene, and do as I say, and no one will be harmed.â
âYouâre trying to sell me! Please, Father!â I call out as a final plea for help.
But my father ignores it. âCharlotte, do your duty to your family.â
I glance at the waitress, the only other person in this diner, but she completely ignores us. Easton probably paid her off to keep quiet.
âCharlotte â¦â Father adds. âDo this. For me. Please.â
That last word hits me hard, and I stop fighting Easton. My lungs suck the air in and out like no tomorrow as I gaze into my fatherâs sincere eyes. Heâs never begged me for anything. This is the first ⦠and probably the last time.
Easton leans toward me, whispering dark words into my ear. âYour father sold his soul to his company, and he paid the ultimate price.â
âWhat do you mean?â I mutter.
âThe only way to pay it off was with you ⦠Or with his life.â
My eyes widen as I face the guilt laced in my fatherâs eyes. Heâs never looked at me like that ⦠like he owes me his world. But he does. And now I have to pay with mine.
âNo,â I whisper, tears welling up in my eyes. âHis life or mine? No, I canât do this. Donât ask me to do this, please,â I beg my father, but he looks away in defeat.
My knees buckle, and I have to fight not to sink to the floor.
âLook at it this way,â Easton muses, holding me tight. âAt least now youâll both live, and you get to say you saved your fatherâs life.â
I shake my head. I canât believe Eastonâs doing this. How did such a sweet, innocent boy become such an evil man? âYouâre a monster.â
His tongue slips out to wet his picture-perfect lips. âDonât worry, Charlotte ⦠This monster will take good care of you.â He drags me out of the establishment. âNow letâs go home.â