A Debt Owed (The Debt Duet 1)

“Sit. Down,” he growls, practically stabbing me with his eyes.

“No!” I throw my napkin onto the table. “It’s not happening.”

“It is, and you will attend these Meet & Greets.”

“Meet & Greets?” I scoff. “So now you’ve already given them a name? Organized a date?” I shake my head. “I can’t believe this. After all this time and all this effort I went through to show interest, to be invested … this is what I get? A father who wants to sell me to the highest bidder?”

“You’ll get to know them properly before the time is due for you to pick.”

“I won’t let you auction off my fucking heart!” I yell.

“Charlotte! Manners!” he yells back.

“I don’t care about manners! You don’t even care about me!” I look at Elijah and beg him with my eyes to do something, but he doesn’t even say a word. He’s retracted himself from the conversation just to make it easier on himself … but not on me. Doesn’t anyone care?

“Elijah … please,” I ask, but he just looks at me with these apologetic eyes that do nothing for me.

“I’m sorry, sis,” he mutters.

“Oh, fuck you all!” I explode.

“Charlotte!” my father yells as I march past him.

“No, I don’t give a damn anymore,” I hiss, walking straight to the door.

“Stop right there, young lady!” I can hear his footsteps behind me. “How dare you insult me like this? You’re my fucking daughter!”

“Yes, Father,” I say, spinning on my heels to give him one last piece of my mind. “I’m your daughter. Your daughter. A girl you should cherish. Instead, you’ve given me nothing but pain. And now you want to give me away,” I reply. “How dare you.”

“It’s already been arranged,” he says as I turn around again.

“I don’t care. I’m not going to be there, so good luck,” I say, sticking my middle finger up in the air.

“Charlotte! Come back here!” he yells as I stomp out the door and slam it shut behind me.

I don’t give a damn what he says or if he even follows me outside. I’m not about to sacrifice my life so he can have his. No way. He may be my father, but he’s not responsible for my life any longer. I will make it on my own, and I will not let anyone dictate my life for me.

Charlotte

Present

This flight is taking forever.

Easton takes a sip of his champagne. “We’ll arrive soon. I’m sure you’ll love my home.”

“I doubt that,” I reply with a condescending tone. I want him to know I’m upset. Who even does this and gets away with it? People are still dictating my life, and there’s nothing I can do to change it.

“You will,” he says with a deadly stare. “Whether you want to or not.”

“Gee, how nice to be invited into someone’s home under the guise of a threat.”

“You’re not invited as a visitor, Charlotte,” he says, placing his glass on the table. “You’re my captive.”

Finally, he says the words. The actual goddamn truth … that I’m a prisoner of a devilish man with sinister goals.

“I’m glad you admit that you took me against my will. It’ll make it easier to explain to the cops once we land,” I quip.

A dark smile mars his face. “It’s amusing that you think you’ll actually have a chance to speak to anyone except me.” The tip of his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and for some reason, it has every drop of my attention. “Make no mistake, Charlotte, I won’t let anyone come close enough to touch you. You’re mine and mine alone for the rest of your life. And if you even dare to try to talk to someone, you’re responsible for your father’s life and what happens to it.”

His dark, gleaming eyes tell me this isn’t an empty threat. He means it.

My nostrils flare as I suck in a deep breath. In a fit of rage, I grab my champagne glass and throw the contents all over his nice black suit. “Asshole,” I curse under my breath.

“Really, Charlotte? Did you have to do that?” he murmurs, wiping himself down with a napkin. “Don’t answer. You’ll only make a bigger mess for yourself, and I assure you that’s the opposite of what you want.” He narrows his eyes at me, and the smile disappears from his face completely. “Because you know you’ll be punished for this, don’t you?”

The implications of what he said send a chill run down my spine.

“Do you like seeing me in agony?” I ask, biting the inside of my cheeks. “Do you get off on hurting me?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to, Charlotte. It’s unbecoming of you, and you know better than to waste my time,” he says arrogantly, tucking the napkin into the bin below the table.