A Debt Owed (The Debt Duet 1)

As he plants his hand on the wall above me, attempting to kiss me again, I kick him in the shin. He jumps around in pain, clutching his foot while I march off.

“Wait,” he growls.

“No,” I spit. “I didn’t choose any of this. I didn’t choose you. I didn’t choose us. That was my father’s doing.” Tears well up in my eyes. “All of you men are the same. I’m just a puppet for their own pleasure.”

He stumbles toward me, but I hold up my hand. Stopping in his tracks, he acts as if he’s suddenly seen the light and knows when to call it quits.

So I add the finishing blow. “You’re no better than my father.”

The veins in his face protrude as he grinds his teeth and narrows his eyes, visibly upset. Nothing in this world is worse than the man I call my father, and he knows this. He knows it’s the worst insult a man could ever hear. One I’m more than willing to throw at him to make him see the direness of the situation he put me in. How much of a bad man he really is.

And with my head held high, I strut out of the room, pulling the knot on my bathrobe tight once again.

Easton

I should go after her and force her to stay and listen, but I don’t. I’m nailed to the ground, frozen by her words. By the time I’ve come to my senses, she’s long gone. Back to her room, I presume. All alone and probably crying too. Fuck.

Grabbing the nearest lamp I can find, I chuck it at the door, breaking it into pieces.

“Fuck!” I yell so loud that it feels as though the veins in my neck may pop.

I am not her father, and I will never be her fucking father. Can’t she see? I’m trying to be nice, trying to be the man she wants, the only man she could ever need. Yet all she sees is this horrible demon that took her from her nest.

What more can I do to make her accept me as her husband? Showering her with gifts obviously won’t work, and she refuses to acknowledge the growing effect my kisses and touch have on her body.

Still, she fights me at every turn, and it’s infuriating. It’s as if she knows nothing else but strife. As if she lives for it and it turns her on. Maybe it does … or maybe it’s her only means to gain back the control she lost.

Whatever the case, I must manage it like I always do. I must subdue her and put an end to this struggle once and for all. But how?

I run my fingers through my hair as Jill comes into the room, and asks, “Are you okay, sir?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” I say.

“Do you want me to clean this up?” She points at the broken lamp. I’d already forgotten about it.

“Sure, yes,” I say, waving it off. “Just throw it away.” I don’t have time to think about random objects in my house breaking or not.

Jill starts picking up the pieces, careful not to make a sound. I stare at my bookshelves, wondering where I went wrong with Charlotte.

“Are you sure … you don’t want to talk?” Jill asks hesitantly, pausing between her words.

I tilt my head and sigh before I look at her. “I don’t think I’m the one who needs to talk.”

Her brows draw together. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“Charlotte,” I say, adding a tentative smile. “Go see if she’s okay.”

She nods and gets rid of the broken pieces as though she doesn’t want me to see them. When she gets back, I say, “Jill, don’t let her leave this house.”

“I promise,” she says, nodding with thin lips.

I know Jill doesn’t agree with my decision or what I’m doing, but she knows it’s not her place to voice her opinion. Jill knows she owes me that.

She gives me an unsettled smile before leaving me alone in my own brooding misery. I grab a glass and pour in some gin, staring at the label on the back as I chug it down in one go. I’ll probably finish this entire bottle before the day is over.

Charlotte

I search through my room, throwing everything out of the closet, the drawers, and the bathroom, leaving nothing unscathed. I need to find something—a key, a knife, a tool, anything—to break out of this goddamn prison. I don’t care what it takes. I need to get away from this man before … before … I do something I’ll forever regret.

He keeps pushing and pushing, coming closer and closer, and I can’t handle it anymore. I can’t take how badly my body wants to give in when my mind says no. It’s wrong. He’s my captor, someone who keeps me as a prize he took from his enemy. I’m nothing but a toy to him.