A Debt Owed: Chapter 7

Present

My excitement intensified the moment we landed. Not just because we’re back in the country where I live, where I know the people better, and where I feel at home, but also because I couldn’t wait to see her face once she realized there was no fucking way she’d ever be able to talk to anyone—not the cops, not any other flyers, and not any personnel. Too bad for her, she still had hopes that’d be the case.

Those hopes got crushed the second my limo met us on the airstrip to pick us up right when we walked off the jet. The look in her eyes was magnificent. The despair grew with time and turned her into a dark, shivering mess. Like a ghost floating through the air, she settled into her seat. I didn’t even have to force her. She went inside my mansion without a fight, which was a nice surprise.

It’s always incredibly fascinating to watch people disintegrate in front of me. I can’t ever get enough. Maybe that makes me a sadistic asshole, but I don’t give a damn. I love it. It gets me going, making me want to put my hands all over her and show her who’s boss.

She hasn’t ever been around an actual man, and that’s about to change. I know she can feel it. The air in this car is thick with unspoken words and desire. I can almost taste her submission. It won’t be long until she fully commits … I’m sure of it.

And then I’ll make her my wife.

She might think I’m only in it for the short term, but I want her for the long run. I want her body and soul. And I want her by her own choice. I want her to submit out of her own free will.

I want her spreading her legs, waiting for my finger. I want her on her knees begging for my cock. And I want her to willfully put my ring on her own damn finger, knowing it’s forever.

It’s not just about owning her. I’ve already accomplished that by purchasing her from her father in exchange for a simple loan. No, I want her to crumple and admit defeat. She might not realize this now, but she will in due time.

I clear my throat when we drive through the gates of my home, and she shifts in her seat. She seems anxious, sweat drops gleaming on her forehead as she stares out the back window at the closing gates.

She may be scoping her surroundings, trying to find a way out, but there is none. I have plenty of guards to keep her from escaping should she try. Not to mention the fact that my house is locked down 24/7 unless I’m there.

She’s going to be a pretty princess in a pretty castle, just like she always dreamed of.

“We’re here,” I say as the limo stops in front of the door. Seeing my house is refreshing. I’m so glad I moved back to this country. It was my home for so many years, and it never felt right in America. Despite being born there, this is where I belong.

Charlotte sucks in a breath but doesn’t say a word. The scowl on her face speaks volumes, though.

I get out of the car and walk to the other side to open her door and hold my hand out courteously. Instead, she gets out without even touching me, passing me on high heels and narrowly missing a puddle. Adventurous girl, that’s for sure.

She walks up the steps and inside the door that’s already opened for her by one of my butlers. She wanders into the main hall, then looks around without moving an inch.

I place a hand on her shoulder. Her muscles tense, and a grin spreads on my lips in response.

“Do you like it here?” I ask.

She licks her lips briefly, and says, “When will you let me go?”

This again?

“Never,” I reply, narrowing my eyes. “Why do you keep asking?”

She looks me straight in the eyes as she answers. “I won’t ever stop asking.”

My throat tightens, and I swallow in response. I didn’t expect her to say that. She’s not dumb; she already knows the answer. The only reason she will ask me again and again … is to confront me with my choice. To make me see the devil I’ve become.

But I don’t care. I came to that same conclusion long ago when I decided to go through with this.

“When did you turn into such a monster?” she asks.

The question is like a stab to the heart with a butcher’s knife. As if she doesn’t know the answer to that full well … that she’s the reason I am the way I am today. Simple cause and effect, and her denying me even a simple smile set into motion a chain of events that can’t ever be undone.

“The moment you ignored me. You listened to him instead of your heart. That was enough for me,” I growl.

Her parted lips close.

The doors close behind us, leaving a deafening silence in their wake.

“You know how violent my father is. You saw it with your own eyes,” she says, pain stinging her voice. “I had no choice but to ignore you.”

“You could’ve stood your ground. You know as well as I do this is your fault. All of this is your doing.”

“No, you’re lying to yourself. And you let yourself become a monster,” she hisses.

“Your father hated my guts, and you let him control you,” I retort.

“He tries to control everyone,” she says. “That doesn’t make this okay. Why do you want to ruin us so badly?”

“I will do everything I can to destroy the Davis name,” I growl. “Because of your father, my father is now dead.”

“What?” Her eyes widen. “Your father?” She shakes her head. “No, that’s not possible. My father wouldn’t murder—”

My blood boils. “Your father worked mine to death.”

“That wasn’t his—”

“Yes, it was!” Anger seeps through my veins, and I explode. “Your father wanted my father to succumb to the stress as payback for me trying to get close to you. Because of you … my father is dead.”

Easton

1 Year Ago

After the falling out I had at the restaurant with that pompous asshole Davis, I didn’t want to stand between my father and his biggest job ever. I wanted him to succeed, even if it was without me, so I stopped working for him and settled on getting my own shit sorted.

I opened my own high-end club for singles, and after gathering some investors, I managed to open a couple more over the years. I even paid all of them off within no time. I never expected my business would skyrocket this fast, but I guess people enjoy the unique cocktails we serve and the luxurious atmosphere at the locations.

The more clubs I open all around the world, the more the opportunity arises to spend and earn big money, which is what I wanted all along … To grow my business into an empire and outsmart that son of a bitch Davis. One day, I will be richer than he is, and then I’ll buy out all of his businesses and make him pay. I’ll ruin him until he has nothing left to spit on. And then we’ll see who has the last laugh.

But first, it’s time to see how my father’s doing. I haven’t seen him in a month, and he’s been quiet during our phone conversations lately, so I decided to drop by his house tonight.

The only thing he told me was that Davis put so much pressure on him to perform that he wasn’t even allowed to stay home sick. I hate that prick like nobody else, but my father never listened to him when I told him he needed to quit while he still could. Now, Davis holds his paycheck over his head … and he works like a goddamn hostage.

The thought makes my fists clench as I ring the doorbell a couple of times.

No one comes to the door. “Father?” I bang on the wood a couple of times but still no answer. “Father?” He’s always home at this hour. I don’t wanna go straight to my last resort, but it seems I have no choice.

My father gave me a spare key to his apartment a few months back in case I needed to drop by for something like supplies or to help him out sometimes. Guess now’s the time to use it.

I fish the key from my pocket and jam it into the keyhole, twisting it until the door unlocks. I open it wide and call out for my father again.

But as I step inside and take a look around, I freeze, and the key drops from my hand. He’s lying on the floor completely lifeless.

“Father!” I rush toward him and go down to my knees in front of his body, shaking him vigorously. I place my index finger against his neck and check for a pulse. Nothing.

Placing my hands on top of his chest, I immediately start compressions. After countless times, I blow air into his mouth while holding his nose. But nothing I do seems to get him to breathe again.

I don’t know how long I continue or how much time passes before I call an ambulance. Before they tell me that I did my best, but that there is no saving him. He died from a heart attack caused by too much stress. He’d been working so hard lately, and it’d been the death of him.

In the hospital waiting room, my hands feel cold and my heart empty, devoid of any emotion. All I can do is stare into oblivion as I realize my father’s been taken away from me.

Too soon.