Debt Inheritance

Six hundred years?

“But…”

Jethro sniffed, his temper building like a ghost around us. “Stop crying. The images portray the truth. It proves you did what you did and no one can be angry or distrustful.”

“What did I do?”

“Ah, Ms. Weaver, don’t let shock steal your intelligence. You. Left. Voluntarily.” He waved at the photo. “This confirms it.”

“But I didn’t,” I whimpered. “I didn’t leave—”

Jethro tensed. “Don’t forget so soon what I taught you. You are the sacrifice and you…” His eyes dared me to finish his sentence, to admit to everything I’d done by protecting my family. His fingers twitched between his legs, looking like he wanted to strike.

I’d never been good at confrontation—not that my father yelled often or Vaughn and I argued. I’d grown up with no need to fight. I knew how precious my family was. My mother left, proving just how heartless someone could be if they didn’t hold onto love. So I’d held on with both hands, feet, every part of me. Only to have it torn away so easily.

You’d rather they lived and never saw them again than die because of you.

Hanging my head, I murmured, “A sacrifice comes of their own free will, therefore I left voluntarily.”

Jethro nodded, patting my thigh like the pet he thought I was. Covering the photos with his large hand, he pressed down until my elbows gave out and I lowered them. “Good girl. Keep behaving and the next part won’t be too hard to bear.”

Another rush of tears suffocated me, but I swallowed them back. He’d told me to stop crying. So I would.

Jethro stood, reaching down to scoop up the awful photos and duffel bag of belongings. “Come. We have to go.” He didn’t offer me his hand to climb to my feet.

The simple act of raising myself from cold concrete to freezing air taxed my already fractured world. Rolling vertigo pitched my balance, sending me reeling backward. My arms shot out, searching for something to grab hold of.

With drunken eyes, I begged Jethro to catch me, but he just stood there. Silent. Exasperated. He let me trip and fall.

I cried out as I collapsed on the ground. My fingernails dug into the rough flooring, holding on while the parking garage danced around like a nightmarish carrousel. Pain radiated from my hipbone, but it was nothing compared to the overwhelming nausea.

Stress.

It wouldn’t be Jethro who ended up killing me, but the inability to deal with a gauntlet of emotions.

Closing my eyes, I repeated Vaughn’s silly nursery rhyme. Find an anchor. Hold on tight. Do this and you’ll be alright.

“Get up, goddammit. Stop acting the victim.” A pinching hand grabbed under my arm, jerking me to my feet.

I doubled over, holding my stomach as another wave of sickness threatened to evict the only food I’d had today—a luncheon prior to the rehearsal of the runway show.

“You’re useless.”

When the debilitating wave left, I glared up. “I’m not useless. I can’t control it.” Breathing hard, I begged, “Please, let me talk to my brother. Let me tell him—”

“Tell him what? That you’re being taken against your will?” Jethro chuckled. “By the look on your face you seem to think I’ll forbid you having any outside communication—cut you off from everything you hold dear.” Letting me go, he scooped my heavy hair from my neck, giving me a reprieve from the sticky heat of not feeling well. “Contrary to what you think, I have no desire to dictate what you can and can’t do.”

Twisting my hair, tugging lightly, he added, “This may surprise you, seeing as you have such a low opinion of me, but you can go online, keep your mobile—even continue to work if you wish. I told you before—this is not a kidnapping. It’s a debt. And until you understand the full complications of the debt, I suggest you keep what’s happening to yourself.”

I couldn’t understand. I was being stolen, yet was allowed access to avenues that could bring me safety. It didn’t make sense.

“You’ve made a decision to come with me, and it’s irreversible. You can’t change your mind, and you can’t change the payments required, so why make others worry on your behalf?” His eyes glinted. “I suggest you become good at pretending if you wish to maintain the pretence of freedom. I won’t stop you from creating extra worry and strain for yourself.” Bowing over me, he smiled. “It only makes my job easier.”

Grabbing the black rope he’d made from my hair, I stepped away from him. “You’re insane.”

He gave me a sideways look, rummaging in the duffel to grab a handful of clothes. Closing the distance between us, he shoved the balled items into my stomach.

Oxygen exploded from my lungs from the force.

Jethro pulsed with anger. “That’s twice you’ve questioned my mental state, Ms. Weaver. Do. Not. Do. It. Again.” Running a hand through his hair, he growled, “Now get dressed. Time to go home.”

I COULDN’T DO it.

It was like looking after a needy, sickly, disobedient child. Bryan Hawk, my father and orchestrator of this mess, assured me it would be a simple matter of a few threats and blackmail.

She’ll come easy if you threaten the ones she loves.

Bullshit.

The so-called inexperienced dressmaker had her own agenda. Beneath the chaste little girl, lurked a devious woman who was so tangled and confused she was fucking dangerous.

Dangerous because she was unpredictable. Unpredictable because she didn’t know herself.

I was clueless on how to control her. I didn’t understand her.

For instance, what the fuck happened at the coffee shop? She’d gravitated toward me. She’d licked my thumb like she imagined it was my dick. She’d surprised me. And I didn’t do well with surprises.

My structured world—my rules and agendas—were not something that had room for twists and turns. Unless I was the one creating them. And I definitely didn’t have time for my cock to twitch and show an interest in the woman I meant to torture and defile.

I would get hard when she was alone on my estate and her screams echoed in the woods. I would come with her gagged and subdued and hating me with the intensity of her forefathers.

Her pain was my reward. The fact she got me hard by being shy but so bloody tempting was completely unpermitted.