A Debt Owed (The Debt Duet 1)

I swallow away the lump in my throat. “It’s fine.”

“You don’t like them?” he asks, swiping aside my hair as he watches me through the mirror. “There are plenty of other earrings to choose from once these have healed. I can arrange for Jill to bring them over so you can choose. Would you have preferred pearls?”

“No. This is fine,” I lie. I don’t want to spend any more time on this. I don’t want to be happy, and I don’t want to make him happy either.

“Good.” He squeezes my shoulder. “I want you to be happy.”

That’s not true, and he knows that, but he doesn’t care. He wants to think I’m happy so he can live with what he’s doing to me, but I won’t ever forgive him.

He leans forward and kisses me on the cheeks again, adding, “Soon, you’ll be mine alone just as you were meant to be from the start. And then you’ll beg me to take your cherry, princess.”

My eyes widen as he leaves me and closes the door behind him, his last words repeating in my head.

Cherry … my virginity.

Something I’d completely forgotten about because I never dated guys. I was too busy working to make a living, and I was afraid my father would find out and hurt them, so I never even tried.

And now my first time ever having sex will be with my captor.

Fuck.

Chapter 12

Charlotte

I can barely breathe.

Not just because my corset is on so tight so they can hoist me into the wedding dress he selected for me … but also because I’m terrified. Terrified of the sparkling studs on my chest, the high-heeled peep toe pumps on my feet, the tiny silver tiara on my head, and the veil that hangs low over my curled hair.

These past few days have felt like a blur. I’m shaking as I stare at myself in the mirror, at that woman I’ve been forced to become. A woman who’s about to marry her biggest enemy. A man who took her as a prize.

Princess … he uses the name as an insult, but that same princess stares right back at me through this mirror. A princess who doesn’t belong in these shoes or these clothes, yet she has no choice in the matter. She’s getting married to the devil as payment for her father’s debt.

It’s hard to sigh when you don’t have any room to breathe, and someone is pulling and tugging on your bodice, trying to fit you into the outfit they made from scratch by hand. I don’t blame Jill for trying; she had to make it work within a few days. That’s all the time he gave her … all the time he gave me.

I should be protesting, screaming my lungs out, and punching my way through the door to get out. Instead, I’m just standing here staring at myself while I get dressed up as a dolly once again. If I fought Jill, he’d probably punish her instead of me and then force me to watch to make me feel guilty.

And I don’t wanna go through that again. I already apologized once the last time I acted out. I won’t let him humiliate me a second time. Right now, I’m letting it all happen, just like the tears that are a blink away from tumbling over my cheeks.

“Look at you!” she says when she’s finished. She’s radiating. “God, you look so beautiful.”

I give her a fake smile. “Thanks.”

“Well, go on, spin for me,” she says, clapping her hands like a little girl.

I tap my feet and do what she asks, never taking my eyes off the woman in the mirror who I don’t even recognize anymore.

“Perfect! What do you think?” she asks. “Do you think it’s too much?”

“No … I like it,” I lie. I can’t bear to hurt her feelings again the way I did last time. I may be a princess, but this princess has morals too. Hurting someone twice in a row isn’t something I stand for, even if she knows what she’s doing isn’t right.

She smiles, tears appearing in her eyes before she grabs my bouquet for me, and says, “Here. Hold it.” Before I can reply, she shoves it into my hands and snaps a shot with a Polaroid, waving the photo in front of me. “Look at you. So pretty,” she murmurs as we both stare at the shot. But all I see is a pretty girl trying to hide her misery.

“Oh, look at the time!” she exclaims, glancing at the clock before snatching the photo from my hand and tucking it into her pocket. “We need to get you ready to go.”

By go, she means walk down the aisle.

Have a ring put on my finger.

Get married.

The thought makes my heart drop, and my stomach feels as if it’s doing a corkscrew.