Charlotte
I stare at Deion’s phone, my hands shaking. This isn’t right. My father intervened, and it was all a trap. I should’ve known.
Shit. I have to get rid of this phone before they find my location.
I rush to the kitchen while ripping apart the phone bit by bit until I find the chip, which I shatter and chuck in the trash.
“Hey! Stop!” Deion calls out, chasing me. One look at his broken phone is all that’s needed for him to yell, “What did you do that for?”
“I’m … sorry,” I say, swallowing. I know it isn’t right, but I had no other choice. If my father finds me—finds us—he’ll not only take me back to Easton, but he’ll kill Deion and Ashanti too. It would bring him shame to know they’re still alive and that his precious daughter spent time with what he’d call lowlifes. And I’d do anything to keep them from harm. Deion and his little girl don’t deserve any of his wrath.
“I can explain,” I say.
He puts his hands against his side, tapping his foot. “You’d better.”
I lick my lips, staring at his feet for a while. How do I explain this without sounding like a total idiot? “They can’t track a phone this way.”
“Track?” He makes a face and laughs, but the sarcastic smile on his face disappears like snow in the sun. “Wait, you can’t be serious, right?”
I hesitate to answer. “Actually …”
He throws a glance to the living room, probably to make sure Ashanti isn’t listening or watching us. “Who’s tracking you?” he asks with a soft voice. “Your family? The Davis family?”
“Um …” I don’t know how to explain this even though I said I would try. How do you even begin with a story like this? “It’s complicated.”
He cocks his head and sighs, then sits down at the kitchen table. “Sit.” He points at a seat, and I feel obliged to do as he asks.
“My father sold me to a man named Easton Van Buren in exchange for a loan.”
“Hold on, did you just say sold?” Deion leans in as if he didn’t hear me right.
“Yes. It’s the truth. His business, Davis Holding, was on the brink of bankruptcy. No one would loan him a cent … except for Easton.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “And he wanted you in exchange?”
I nod. “I know it sounds outlandish, but it really happened. And now they’re looking for me.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “But how? And why? I mean, who would get away with that?”
“Money buys a lot of things, Deion,” I explain. “And money makes people do bad things.”
He sniffs, and says, “It’s a lot to take in.”
“I know. It’s why I didn’t tell you,” I say. I’m too ashamed to look at him because to do so is to admit that I went along with it. That I allowed them to sell me and use me however they saw fit.
“But what does my phone have to do with that?” he asks.
“My father only tricked me into calling my brother so he could find out the phone number I used and use it to track me down,” I say, swallowing away the lump in my throat. “If he can return me to Easton, the debt will remain paid. Otherwise, Easton would probably have him killed.”
“Whoa.” Deion sucks in a deep breath.
“I know. It’s why I went along with it.”
“Yet … you’re here,” he says, his brows furrowing.
“I couldn’t play pretend-wife anymore. I was trapped in that house, caged like a bird. I needed freedom,” I say as I look him in the eyes. I want him to see the real me and the pain that hides behind these eyes. “When I had the chance, I fled. And then you found me …”
He nods a few times, and it’s silent for a moment. “That’s way worse than just a tough situation,” he jests, a lopsided smile appearing on his face. “You’re in deep shit.”
I smile back. “Tell me about it.”
It’s silent for a few seconds before he opens his mouth again. “So, what now?”
“Now …” I sigh. “I don’t know, but I don’t think I can stay.”
“Why not?” he asks, and my heart palpitates.
“I don’t want to put you or your daughter in any danger.”
“Pfft.” He waves it off. “As if this is the first time some asshole tried to own a woman. You’re not the first girl in trouble, and you won’t be the last. I can handle it.”
I lick my lips. “What do you mean?”
“I mean …” He grabs my hand, and for the first time in forever, I don’t want to pull mine back. “You can stay here if you like.”
“But—”
“I’m not gonna put a girl in need on the streets, Charlotte. That’s not my style.”
I jump up from the seat and hug him tight. Only when the scent of his cologne enters my nostrils again do I realize what I’m doing, and I quickly pull back. His face is red, and mine probably is too. Shit. That was embarrassing.