A Debt Owed (The Debt Duet 1)

Oh, Charlotte … you’re too sweet and gullible. That old rat has used you, and now he’s thrown you to the wolves, and you still care about him. It’s admirable … but stupid.

“Is that it? That’s what you’re going to dangle over my head?” she asks, resentment showing in her eyes.

Yes. Yes, I fucking am. Because my father died for hers. And I will hold the Davis family accountable.

“If you give me no choice, then I will.” I add a smile to be nice because I honestly want to be. Sometimes I can be. But not right now because she needs to learn her place first.

“Great,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Look at it this way … you get to save a life,” I say.

“By sacrificing my own,” she replies through gritted teeth.

“I promise you I’ll make it worthwhile. You’ll like it so much you won’t ever want to leave.” Oh, how I’ll make it worth her while.

“You’re sick,” she snarls, turning her head away.

“Maybe or maybe I’m just infatuated with you,” I say. Though she is right … on some levels, I can be a sick, twisted bastard. “But it’s not me who caused this; it’s you.”

“How? What did I do to deserve this?”

“You know what you did,” I growl. “Now eat your lobster.”

After I raise my brow, she reluctantly cuts off a piece and stuffs it into her mouth. It takes her a while to swallow, but I watch her every movement and relish the moment she does. It makes me think of all the dirty things I’ll make her do when we’re alone.

“Why did my father need your money? He could’ve picked anyone who didn’t have such an outrageous counteroffer,” she suddenly says. “Why you?”

I look up, confused. “He didn’t tell you?”

Her nostrils flare as if she’s angry with me for her father not talking to her. But that’s never been different, and she’s ignorant if she can’t see that. “No,” she replies. “He never included me in his decision-making about the company.”

I finish the last bit of my lobster, and say, “The other investors all lost their money. Your father’s company went bankrupt.”

Her eyes widen. “Bankrupt?”

I’m guessing he never told her that either. “His wife stole everything. But I want assurance that I get my investment back.”

“So I’m the bond …” she says, gazing at her lobster as if it’s staring straight back at her.

“Yes, Charlotte. But I never wanted anything else but you.”

“As what? A wife?” she jests as she stabs a piece of lobster with her fork and swallows it down.

But this is no laughing matter. I’m serious. Dead serious. And when she realizes I’m not laughing with her, her pupils dilate, and her face turns completely white.

After she swallows, I reply, “Yes. You’ll become my wife.”

Chapter 3

Charlotte

9 Years Ago

I’ve never been to a wedding before, but if they’re all as pretty as my father’s, I’d attend them all. I’m not sure people would allow me to come, though, since I’m not their kid, but if I smiled real cute, I probably could.

Most stuff I get away with. My father’s usually too busy with work or one of his girlfriends to even notice I exist. Right now, it’s his soon-to-be wife. She brought her own maids of honor, so I wasn’t needed. Not that I care. I’d much rather sit here in the audience than be over there in the limelight next to my brother, Elijah, who’s beaming as the best man. He likes that the suit gets him a lot of attention, but I’m the opposite of that. I’d much rather be on my own, though that’s impossible attending a wedding of this magnitude.

It’s over the top. Father flew us all out to the Netherlands just to have the wedding here in Amsterdam. It’s his favorite city, so that was all the reason he needed. He had all the Dutch folk set everything up for the ceremony while he sat back in his mansion in the United States. When we flew here just a few days ago, everything was ready to go. I’m surprised he didn’t plan his honeymoon here in the Netherlands too. I mean, all that grass and the houses here are beautiful, but their language is so hard to understand, and it’s always raining in this flat land. I don’t get why my father loves it here so much.

I don’t get a lot of things my father does. Like this lady, for example … she’s not at all his type. Way too uptight with too much plastic surgery—not to mention, she wasn’t here when he built his business from the ground up. She’s probably after his money but try telling him that.

Sighing, I look away, and my eyes fixate on a boy standing beside another adult man near the exit. They’re watching the spectacle, just as I should be, but I’m far more interested in what they’re doing here. Are they friends of my father’s? Or do they work for the wedding coordinator?