A Debt Owed: Chapter 19

In the middle of the night, I wake up to something wrapped around my waist. My eyes are sticky from crying, and I can barely open them. I’m groggy as hell. Still, I manage to turn my head … and find Easton right next to me in my bed.

For a second, I’m frozen in place. My heart beats in my throat. He’s sound asleep and snoring just a bit with his hand tucked neatly underneath my belly. I’m breathless and so damn tired still … I just want to sleep, and if I speak, that means he’ll wake up.

Do I really want to, knowing he’s here hugging me instead of punishing me for trying to run?

His body feels warm and cozy against mine, and I can’t help but cuddle closer into his embrace as counterintuitive as it seems. Right now, I could use the company in whatever way I can get it. Even if he is my enemy, my captor … he’s also my husband, and nothing will ever change that.

And with that thought in mind, I fall back asleep into a dreamless sleep once again.

The sun breaking through the curtains wakes me up. A yawn escapes my mouth as I crack open my eyes, but it’s short-lived. There’s no arm around me, and nobody lying beside me. Easton’s gone as if he was never here in the first place.

But I couldn’t have imagined it because I clearly remember him being here. Why did he leave? Did he not intend to stay after all and got angry with himself when he found out he’d fallen asleep right beside me? Or am I overthinking this?

Suddenly, I notice a note on my nightstand. I pick it up and read.

I’ve placed a new bathrobe and a pair of slippers in your closet, along with some new dresses and other clothes. Breakfast is ready for you downstairs. – Jill

A smile forms on my lips. I can’t stay mad at her forever if she’s going to keep showering me with gifts all the time. No wonder Easton enjoys having her around so much.

I get out of bed and put on the new clothes Jill bought for me. After checking myself out in the mirror, I still see that same girl being held captive as a prize, and my smile dissipates. No matter how many times I try to look in the mirror, I see the same gloomy expression every day. No fake smile will erase what’s underneath.

I sigh and do my makeup before going downstairs. The scent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls and pancakes meets me halfway, and my mouth waters. Some of my favorite meals. Enticed, I go straight into the dining room. Easton’s probably there waiting for me.

He’s in his chair, but he’s not reading the paper or drinking a cup of coffee; his eyes are honed in on me. Normally, he points at a chair or narrows his eyes at me while waiting for me to sit down. This time, he scoots his chair back and approaches me.

I stay frozen in place as he pecks me on the cheeks, and says, “Good morning, Charlotte.”

“Morning,” I say with an awkward voice.

I don’t know how to respond. He’s never been that kind to me. He’s usually a grumpy bastard in the morning before he’s had his first coffee. Is this some sort of trap? Is he only doing this so he can get something else out of me? I should stay wary of him. Even with all the pleasantries, I can’t ever forget who he is.

He grabs my hand and leads me to a seat close to his. The table is already set, and by the time I sit down, the food arrives. There’s no time to ask for anything; the moment I think of it, it’s already been placed in front of me. But it doesn’t sit right with me. It’s almost as though he’s bribing my mood.

“I wanted to start with an apology,” Easton suddenly says.

Whoa. An apology? From him? That’s a first.

“What happened to you yesterday never should’ve happened,” he says.

My mind instantly flashes to the two men who grabbed me and tried to take me … and then got shot because of it. My fist instinctively balls. I wish I could’ve kicked that fucker in the nuts before he died.

“I promise you, you’ll be safe from now on. I will never hire people that incompetent again.”

That’s a bold statement. “How do you know it won’t happen again?” I ask.

“Well …” He clears his throat. “For starters, I’m going replace most of my staff with women. With the exception of a few men, such as Nick, who’s been a tremendous help to me all these years. But he won’t ever bother you, I can promise you that.”

“Right …” I mutter, narrowing my eyes. “What did you do to the other guy?”

“You don’t need to worry about them.” He smiles, but it makes an icy chill run down my spine. From the way he’s gazing at me, I’m pretty sure he killed the other one too … after torturing him for hours on end.

I swallow.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

He hasn’t shown any interest in my well-being since I’ve been here, so why now? He’s been nothing but a tormentor, yet every so often, he looks at me with completely different eyes. It’s as though he can’t make up his mind about what to do with me and what to think of me.

“I’m fine,” I reply with a shrug. “For as far as that’s possible, being a captive and all.”

“Good,” he says, ignoring the second half of my statement. “I want you to feel safe in this house.”

I shouldn’t ever feel safe around him … but strangely, I do. He shot that guy for me. Any threat to me is a threat to him, which makes him the safest person in the world to be around.

Yet the violence still makes me cringe.

“You shot him,” I say.

“Yes, so?” he replies. “I did it to save you.”

It’s like he’s trying to use the situation to flatter me. “You did it to save your property,” I retort.

He cocks his head. “That hurts, but I guess I deserve it.” He clears his throat. “At least you’re safe and alive, and that’s all that matters.”

I frown. “When did you …?”

“What? Learn to shoot?” he fills in for me.

“It looked like you’d done it before,” I say.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t,” he answers.

Well, that’s a truth, for once. His eyes boring into mine say it all.

“I took some shooting lessons when I was still a youngster,” he explains.

I narrow my eyes. That can’t be all of it. You don’t roll into killing someone that easily. “But you have killed someone before.”

He taps his fingers together and sighs out loud. “Perhaps …”

“Tell me,” I say.

He licks his top lip, and says, “It’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is.” I want to know what makes him tick.

He sighs again. “I … had to build my clubs from the ground up. That required some sacrifices.”

“For other people, you mean,” I say.

He bites his lip. I’m testing his limits, and we both know it. “If you want to put it that way, yes.”

I grimace. “You killed people for financial gain?”

“I killed them because they deserved to die. Most of them were greedy bastards who only cared about money to invest in their golden toilets and sports cars. After they invested in my clubs, I told them I wanted to give forty percent of the profits to charity, and they all turned up their noses and laughed at me. They even declared me a fool.”

Forty percent? Wow. He didn’t tell me this. I’m impressed … and confused by my own reaction. He just admitted to killing people to advance his business, yet I’m not even mad.

“Most of them were coke addicted whore-bangers whose sole purpose in life was sucking out the soul of other people. I’m not sorry I killed them.”

My eyes widen. “All of them? All of your investors?”

“No, just the ones who were too greedy,” he says, leaning back into his chair. “But it was convenient. I could use their money without having to give them anything in return.” A wicked grin spreads on his lips. “Except death …”

My stomach twists. “Why does it all sound so easy when you say it? You talk about death as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.”

“It is when you’ve seen it as many times as I have,” he says, tilting his head down. “Close up, it looks like their glazed eyes are wide open as if their souls are stuck between here and the nether.”

“You’re sick,” I say.

“I didn’t choose to be this way, Charlotte,” he says.

“Yes, you did. You could’ve let them live,” I say.

“Bad things happen to bad people,” he explains. “Or would you have wanted me to let that man who tried to use you live as well?” He raises a brow.

I swallow away the lump in my throat. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that man dead. But I couldn’t stomach the thought, let alone do it myself.

“Admit it,” he says. “You’re secretly grateful that I took care of him. It puts your mind at ease doesn’t it?”

Why does he read me with such ease?

“I do the dirty work other people don’t want to do. Only hard work gets you where you want to be. If that means killing a few people, then so be it.”

“But is it worth it?” I ask.

There’s a pause before he answers. “Not one of those fuckers who died would ever give as much to charity as I did. I’ve taken their wealth and turned it into more wealth, then hand it over to those who deserve it. I’d say I’m doing the right thing, yeah.”

He thinks he is … but I can tell his soul is burning away like a candle losing its wax, and without fuel, that flame is going to die out.

I shake my head. “You’re ruining yourself, Easton.”

His nostrils twitch. “I’m done with this conversation.”

Right … Of course, he is. When it gets too hot under his feet, he avoids the questions once again. It’s like he doesn’t even want to face the person he’s become.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks, grabbing a cinnamon roll and his coffee, totally glazing over the topic.

But there’s no point trying to make him talk about who he is. If he refuses to speak, it won’t get me anywhere, and the more I ask, the more annoyed he gets. So I have no choice but to go with the flow and let him lead.

I sigh out loud. “Yes … you?” I ask, cocking my head as I tug the plate filled with pancakes closer to me and cut into them.

“Fabulous,” he muses, a lopsided grin appearing on his face.

Of course, he did. He was snuggling me, which is what he wanted all along; to pretend we’re one happily married couple. But I won’t fall for it.

“You weren’t in my bed this morning.” My bluntness almost made him spit out his coffee. “Care to explain?”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” he replies, putting down his cup. “But I’ll indulge you. I had important business to attend to. That was all.”

“Right.” I take a bite of my pancakes. Their deliciousness almost throws me off, but I force myself to swallow. “But that doesn’t explain why you were in my bed in the first place.”

He stuffs his mouth full of the cinnamon roll, and there’s a pause while he chews and swallows. “You were crying in your sleep last night.”

I raise a brow. “So you came to console me?” What a peculiar thing to do for a man like him. Maybe I misjudged him … or he has ulterior motives. Whatever the case, he must’ve felt something for him to lie next to me in the middle of the night and fall asleep.

Still, he refuses to even look at me as he’s chomping away at his breakfast, sipping his coffee between bites like nothing’s going on. He’s hiding behind his food, and I don’t like it one bit.

“Tell me,” I say, slamming my fork down.

This catches his attention. “I didn’t know you cared so much about what I feel for you.”

The way he hones in on me with those piercing eyes makes me weak. If I wasn’t sitting right now, my legs would tremble underneath me. And I hate it. I hate that he makes me feel this way with just one look.

“I just want to know if there’s something human inside you after all,” I quip.

“Of course. But you don’t want to see it,” he retorts.

We stare each other down. “I don’t believe it. And I don’t believe for a second that business was the reason you left.”

He takes an apple and cuts it into small pieces. “You wanna know what I believe? I believe you’re upset I left you alone in your bed.”

“Nonsense,” I hiss, gobbling down my pancakes.

He smirks while chewing on a piece of apple. “Then why do you care so much?”

“Because you’ve never slept a night in my bed,” I reply. “And I think it was an accident.” He snorts, but I continue. “I don’t think you ever intended to stay, and that you were shocked to find yourself lying in my bed when you woke up this morning. So you fled.”

I grab a banana and lean back in my chair while peeling it. His eyes follow the banana as it goes into my mouth, and I take the opportunity to push it down as far as I can manage and then take a bite. I marvel at the slight twinge of pain on his face.

Yes, I went there, and I don’t regret it one bit. For once, he’s on the defense. Good.

“So … what business did you have to attend to that was so urgent?” I say with a mocking voice while still pretending this banana is a dick. “Were you trying to trick someone else into getting a loan from you so you could force them to give you their loved ones too?”

He swallows, visibly agitated at the sight of me savagely eating this banana. Or maybe he’s just angry I was easily able to pinpoint where the problem lies.

“As I said before, it’s none of your business.” He sighs out loud. “But if you must know, I do more than give money to bastards who don’t deserve it. I also give money to people who truly need it. I love charities.”

Oh, I remember him saying that once, but I don’t, for one second, believe he cares.

“Why couldn’t you just have loaned my father the money without demanding such an egregious favor in return?” I ask. “You could’ve made do with the money back plus interest.”

He grabs a peach and leans back just like me. “Because you and your father needed to be taught a lesson.” He brings the peach to his mouth and starts sucking on it. Hard.

And for some reason, it makes my pussy clench.

Fuck.

“I hate you,” I say through gritted teeth.

“No, you don’t. In fact, you’re starting to like me,” he says, licking the peach in an obscene way. Afterward, he takes a bite and swallows. “You only say that you hate me because you’re stuck in this house.” He takes another bite. “But maybe I’ll let you off the property.”

Now that’s music to my ears. He’s certainly got my attention there.

“If?” I add, wondering what the caveat is. Because let’s face it, there must be one.

A devilish smirk appears on his face. “Lift your dress.”

I frown. “What is this … some kind of test?”

He cocks his head. “Perhaps.”

Oh … those games he plays are infuriating. But I’ll play along, for now. If this means I’ll get out of the house, then maybe lifting my dress isn’t so bad. With my index finger and thumb, I raise the fabric until my knees are visible.

“Higher,” he says, and I raise it even more. “Higher …” he says again.

I don’t stop until he tells me to, which he only does once I’ve exposed my panties. “Stop.”

There’s a certain gleam in his eyes.

“Got your fix?” I say.

“Not quite,” he muses, licking his lips as he sits back in his chair. “Play with yourself.”