A Debt Owed: Chapter 4

I’ve thought of escaping. At every turn, every time I stepped out of a car, moved through a hallway, walked into a new door … I’ve thought about running away.

But then that image of my father’s dead body in a casket pops up, and I hesitate. And then the moment passes.

That’s how it’s been for the past few hours as I was escorted to the airstrip.

Within minutes, we’re in a private jet that lifts off and flies over the horizon. Everything happens faster than I can process. How did I let all of this happen?

Easton threatened my father’s life … but would he really do it? Would he honestly have my father killed just to prove his point? Who would be that cruel?

This man staring at me from his seat right across from me. This man keeping me as a hostage for his pleasure.

Why does he want me so badly? We barely know each other, and we’ve only seen each other a couple of times.

“What are you thinking about?” he suddenly asks, interrupting my train of thought.

I shift in my seat and take a deep breath. “What did I do to make you want me so badly? What’s so special about me?”

His index finger rests just below his lips, framing the smile that appears. “Everything.”

The smug look on his face makes me flush. I shouldn’t because it’s not right, but no one ever says these things straight to my face, and I don’t know what to do about it.

“You should feel flattered that I want you,” he adds.

But all it just makes me want to gag. My stomach twists as though someone’s wrapped a rope around me and pulls tighter and tighter until I can no longer breathe.

Suffocation. That’s how it feels … Like being confined to a chest by a man who only takes me out when it’s time for play.

A shiver rolls up and down my spine at the thought of what that playtime will be like. What does he plan on doing with me once we’re married? And when the time comes, will I be able to thwart him off?

I look out the window as we cross the ocean, and I mentally say goodbye to the country I used to call mine. It feels as though I’ll never set foot there again.

But I won’t let this man get to me because surely, this won’t last forever. One way or another, that debt will be repaid, and then I’ll be free. I won’t have to pay for my father’s reckless spending, right? He knows it wasn’t my fault, so I’m sure he’s working on a different solution as we speak.

“Are you daydreaming?” Easton asks.

I shift in my seat, trying to ignore him, but it’s hard with his penetrative stare constantly on my face.

“You know you can speak, right?” he says.

“I don’t see the need,” I reply, glancing at him for only a second, but it’s already too much because just the sight of his deep blue eyes has my body quaking.

God, why does he have this effect on me? I hate it.

“Of course, you do. I know you have questions,” he says, “but you’re too afraid to ask. I won’t bite, I promise … not hard anyway.” The smirk that follows heats me to my core.

“Is that what this is, why you chose me?” I ask, trying not to let my guard down. “So you could act out all your filthy fantasies on me?”

His thumb brushes along his lip softly. “Perhaps.” There’s a short pause. “But you know damn well why …”

“Enlighten me,” I say, tilting my head and pretending I don’t know.

I know he loaned my father money, but I don’t know how the two even came into contact, knowing where Easton came from. My father must’ve been impressed with his company.

But I can’t believe he’d offer up his daughter as a failsafe. Did my father know Easton wanted me all along, or did Easton suggest it?

Maybe my father never intended to pay back the loan in the first place, and this was all part of his plan to get rid of me. Or maybe Easton made sure my father could never pay it off so he could get his hands on me.

Damn … there’s so much I don’t know. I’m dying to ask my father, but there’s no way I’ll ever be able to contact him with Easton breathing down my neck. And not only that, but I doubt my father would answer my questions. His pride is too big for him to swallow and tell me the truth. If he had to choose between his pride or his life, he’d probably choose to die instead.

That’s how stubborn he is. But I’m not. I don’t want him to die. Despite our very rocky relationship, he’s still my father, and I care about him.

“Hmm …” Easton chuckles a little. I hate the sound. Hate it with every breath of my life. “I said I know you had questions. I never said I’d answer all of them.”

I sigh out loud. “Then why dangle the suggestion in front of me?”

“Because it’s fun to see you squirm,” he jests, shrugging as if it means nothing.

Fuck him. He’s making fun of me now.

“Ah, finally,” he says when a woman walks toward us while holding a tray with two champagne glasses. “Thank you.” He grabs two and places one on the table next to me, sliding it toward me.

“No, thanks,” I say without even acknowledging him or the drink.

“C’mon, I know you want to.”

“I’d prefer not to get intoxicated around dangerous men,” I say with a snide undertone. “Next thing you know, they’ll take you hostage and tie you to their bed.”

He snorts, and a lopsided grin spreads across his lips. “I love how filthy your mind is. That will come in handy when it’s time to get down and dirty.”

“Dream on,” I snap.

“Oh, I haven’t shown you how bad I can get, Charlotte … and I won’t just tie you up to my bed,” he says, leaning forward as if to instill fear into me just by coming closer. “I’ll make you beg for it until you scream my name from pure pleasure.”

I swallow away the lump in my throat and cross my legs because it suddenly feels like I have no panties on even though I do. “That’ll never happen.”

“Of course, it will,” he answers. “Once you’re my wife, it’ll happen every … single … day.”

My legs clench together at the thought, my heart beating in my throat. I have to stop letting him get to me so much because he’s nothing but an evil bastard. I have to get rid of that image in my mind of that young boy who was once so nice to me. Where has that boy gone?

“And here I was, thinking you were such a nice guy way back when we first met. Guess I was wrong,” I say, holding my head up high.

“People change, Charlotte. You, of all people, should know that.” He raises his brow.

“I thought you were a better man,” I murmur.

His laughter dies off painfully slow. “So did I … once,” he muses.

“Let me guess, you blame me?” I raise a brow.

His eyes become thin slits. “Yes … and you know damn well why.”

Easton

7 Years Ago

“So you mix the two fluids, and then you add the dry ingredients. Got it?” my father says as he makes a smooth puree. I never understood any of this cooking stuff, and I’ve always been horrible in the kitchen, but I wanna learn. My father’s a great cook, and I envy his ability to quickly adapt. Whenever I’m behind a stove, I just burn everything. But I wanna make him happy.

I’m more adept at serving customers, and I think my father knows that because he always puts me on the waiter jobs whenever we work together. When the people who hire him approve, of course. Many people hire him because they all want to make use of his great cooking skills.

Me, I’m just glad I finished high school, but I have no clue what the hell I wanna do. My father keeps saying I should take over his business, and I suppose he’s right. It’d be a waste to let all his hard work slip when he retires. He built his business from the ground up over the years, and I’m proud of that. I’m just not sure if this is my thing.

“Do you get it or not?” he asks again.

Pulled from my train of thought, I mutter, “Ah, yeah, of course, I get it.”

“Tsk. Stop lying, Easton. You always do that.” He sighs. “Go serve them this.”

He puts three glasses filled with puree on a tray and shoos me out of the kitchen. He only works part-time for this restaurant, but it’s already pulled in some peculiar customers. Mostly rich people yearning to try out my father’s creations. He’s like a magician with food while I’m … just me. All I’m good at is flipping bottles and making some cool-looking drinks. But those things don’t make you money. You can’t build a career on drinks. Right?

I need to get my shit together and focus on what’s important; learning the best of my father’s skills so I can apply them when he retires and I take over his business. Working hard is the key.

With the tray in my hand and a clean cloth in the other, I march out the door and put on my best smile. However, the moment I notice who our guests are, my smile immediately disappears.

It’s her… that girl from that over-the-top wedding years ago.

Charlotte Davis.

I’d recognize her anywhere.

She has such distinct green eyes and a smile that anyone would be envious of. Not to mention the pink hair, which is hard to miss. As is her long, white dress … and tits that are tightly strapped inside.

Fuck. She grew up fast.

I still try to give her a courteous smile and let her know I recognize her, but she won’t even spare me one glance. All she does is stare out the window and ignore everyone around her. Fucking rude … but I guess that’s how these rich folks are.

“Compliments of the house,” I mutter as I set the tiny glasses in front of them.

She still won’t acknowledge me. It’s as if I don’t even exist. Has she forgotten about me already? Or is this because of her father?

I clearly remember the way he treated her at his wedding, how he slapped her in front of everyone and let her cry all by herself. When she ran off to the bathroom, I wanted to follow her, but then it hit me that the only reason it happened was because she’d talked to me.

Maybe that’s why she’s ignoring me on purpose right now. She doesn’t wanna get hurt again.

“Thanks, boy,” her father says. He sips the juice from the glass. “Delicious. As always.” He takes in a deep breath as if he’s savoring it. “Boy, call out the chef, will you? I need to speak with him.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I would, but he’s busy making dinner. Our guests will be here any moment.”

“Are you sure you want to take a real opportunity away from your father?” he says, lifting a brow. “I’m sure your father won’t be happy with you making that decision.”

I don’t like the way he’s looking at me, nor his tone. But I sigh and do what he wants because that’s my job. “I’ll go get him right away, sir.”

I turn around and walk back to the kitchen. My father immediately bombards me with questions. “And? What did they say? Did they enjoy it? What did his face look like?”

“He loved it. Said it was delicious. He looked like he was savoring the taste,” I reply, trying to forget the fact that she’s out there too. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Oh?” My father places his hand on his chest. “I’m flattered. Can you take over back here for a sec?”

“Sure,” I say as he walks out. I swallow away the lump in my throat and stare at the food. Then I open the door a little bit and peek through the opening. I know it’s wrong to listen to their conversation, but my curiosity gets the best of me.

“I want you to work for me.”

“Wait, really?”

“Really. I’ll give you your own restaurant. Head chef. Full time. Name your price.”

Wow. This guy’s offering my father his dream job. But I’m not sure I’m happy about that. The last time we met him, he didn’t exactly make a great impression. All he’s got going for him is that he has multiple restaurants and hotels across the world under his name, or so I’ve heard. I don’t doubt my father’s happy about this opportunity, but I just hope her father doesn’t abuse mine.

When my father comes back, he seems over the moon. However, the moment he looks at me, his smile vanishes. “What is it?” I ask.

“He offered me a job, but he wants me to do everything without you.”

“Why? What did I do?” I frown, offended that he’s singling me out.

“Well, since his daughter will be around too, and she often comes to the restaurants he owns, he doesn’t want her to interact with you.”

“You mean he’s afraid I’ll try to flirt with her?” I say through gritted teeth.

“Well, he didn’t put it like that, but—”

“Don’t even try to explain it,” I say, holding up my hand. “And you’re okay with this? Me losing my part-time job?”

“Well, there’s plenty of other work you could do,” he says, trying to grab me, but I immediately pull away.

“I liked this. I liked working with you,” I say. “I can talk to him. Maybe he’ll change his mind.”

“No, wait!” my father yells as I march out the door.

He’s too late to stop me. I’m already by their table before he’s even clutched the door. I don’t care if he watches.

“Why do you want me gone?” I ask Davis bluntly.

He looks up with an arrogant smirk on his face. “Excuse me, who are you?”

“I’m his son,” I say, clenching my fists together. “Why can’t I continue working with my father?”

Davis just laughs at me.

I grind my teeth. “What’s so funny?”

With a condescending look on his face, he says, “The fact that you think what you do is work.”

Fuck him and the fucking horse he thinks he rode in on. It takes all my patience right now not to sucker-punch this fucker out of the restaurant.

“My father and I are a team. We’ve always worked together.”

His face darkens. “And now that’s going to change.”

“What’s your problem?” I ask, cocking my head.

“My problem is you trying to talk it up with my daughter,” he hisses.

Wait … Charlotte’s the reason I’m getting fired? I make a face. “You think I’m going to flirt with her?”

The sudden mention of the word her has caught her attention. She briefly glances my way, and at that moment of pure hatred, our eyes connect. But I don’t see the same happy, smart girl I once saw. All I see is gloom and the wish for things to end quickly. As if she pities me.

And it only makes me want to grab their glasses and smash them to the ground.

I’m not the one who needs pity. She is.

But she immediately looks away and stares out the window as if I’ve ceased to exist. As if we never even talked at her father’s wedding and she doesn’t remember me. But I know she does. I could see it in her eyes.

“I know you remember me,” I say. When she still doesn’t speak, I yell, “Look at me!”

I want her to know that I won’t let her forget me. That her father used her to explain the fact I’m losing my job.

Suddenly, her father grabs my wrist, and growls, “Listen to me, you little …” He clears his throat to prevent himself from saying something I’m sure was going to be nasty. “Don’t you fucking look or talk to my daughter like that. You will never, ever be good enough for my daughter. You hear me?”

“Father,” Charlotte mutters, her eyes widened.

I jerk myself free from his grip. “I never said I wanted—”

“I’m not blind, kid. I know you want her; I saw it with my own eyes. I’ve known ever since you two had that little chat at my wedding.” He points at me with his crooked finger as if it’s a gun. “And I’ll die before I let that happen.”

I swallow, trying to make sense of his words. Is this a threat or a dare? I can’t tell.

“Don’t think you ever had a chance to begin with, boy,” he adds.

I don’t believe him.

“Father!” Charlotte looks mortified. “Please!”

He completely ignores her. “You’re just a common busboy. A waiter who’ll serve our drinks and that’s it. You won’t amount to anything more, and she will never, ever talk to you again. You hear me?”

My nostrils flare as I glance at both her and her father, but he’s the only one who will look me directly in the eyes. It’s as though she’s too afraid to even try. She’s still ignoring me, still pretending I don’t exist, and that fucking hurts.

I don’t say another word as I grab the two glasses and take them with me back to the kitchen. I won’t give him the satisfaction of my response. I won’t let them witness my full-blown rage.

Both of them will get their comeuppance one day. I’ll make sure of it. And when the time comes, I’ll dance on her father’s fucking grave.

A stupid smirk spreads across my lips. One day, she will belong to me. Whatever it takes. I won’t stop until she’s mine completely.

And I’ll make him witness me kissing her, marrying her … fucking her.

Just so that bastard can see how wrong he was about me.