Debt Inheritance

He did as I asked, giving me space. The crowd stayed behind their small barricade letting me suck in much needed oxygen. My phone buzzed again and this time…I couldn’t ignore it.

Pulling it from my ruffled, feathered cleavage, I unlocked the screen and indulged.

Kite007: Haven’t had a message from you in a couple of days. If you don’t send one immediately, I might have to track down your name and location and come and spank you.

My stomach flipped at the threat. He’d never insinuated a meeting…not after my bungle of asking him out and his blatant refusal.

Kite007: Still no reply. If threats of physical harm won’t make you respond, perhaps the mental visualisation of me stroking myself while reading some of your old messages will persuade you to.

My core clenched. He’d pleasured himself while thinking of me? A stranger touching himself shouldn’t give me such a thrill.

Kite007: My Naughty Nun, I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’ve disgraced myself by coming all over my hand at the thought of you naked and smeared in chocolate. Hope you’re happy.

“What are you reading?” Vaughn peered over my shoulder.

My cheeks flamed and I wiped the screen of evidence that despite his and my father’s best intentions, I’d managed to find a man interested in talking sex with me. I couldn’t wait to be in private to respond. Kite seemed more…open. Maybe we could talk about real things and not just dirt.

“Nothing.”

Vaughn scowled, then a large grin brightened his face. “Guess how many orders?”

My brain couldn’t switch from wanting desperately to respond to Kite to normal conversation. “Orders?”

He threw his hands up. “Seriously! Your collection. Sometimes I worry about you, Threads.” Still grinning, he added, “Your Fire and Coal collection has orders from all major retail chains in Europe and America, and the couture line is currently in a bidding war for exclusivity between a London boutique and Paris.” He bounced with happiness—infecting me with energy. “I told you this was your break. You’ve cemented your name. Nila will be worn by celebrities around the world at their red-carpet premieres.”

He lowered his voice. “You’re your own, sister. You’re more than just a Weaver. You’re you, and I’m so damn proud of what you’ve achieved.” Twin intuition had always been strong—showing just how much he understood without me ever having to voice it.

Tears sprang to my eyes. Vaughn didn’t get sentimental often, so his praise was a well-placed dagger in my self-control. This time I couldn’t stop the smile breaking through my defences or my heart glowing with accomplishment. “Thank you, V. That means—”

“Nila.”

I spun around to face my father. Instead of the grin and look of love I expected, he stood cold and fierce. My stomach tensed, sensing something was wrong. So, so wrong. It was the same look he got whenever he thought of Mum. The same look I’d grown accustomed to hating and running from.

“Dad…what—” He wasn’t alone. My eyes trailed from my father’s pressed tux toward the tall, svelte man beside him.

Holy hell, who on earth...

Thoughts died like windless kites, littering my mind with silent dumbness. He was a stranger. But I felt as if I’d seen him before. He was a mystery. But I sensed I already knew everything about him. Two extremes…two confusions.

“Nila, I want to introduce you to someone.” My father’s jaw ticked, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists. “This is Jethro Hawk. He’s a big fan of your work and would like to take you out tonight to celebrate your success.”

I wanted to rub my eyes and have my hearing checked. Since the day of my birth, my father had never introduced me to a man. Never. And he’d never lied so obviously. This man wasn’t a fan of my work—although he did have incredible fashion sense. He had to be a male model with his height, envious cheekbones, and perfectly styled salt-and-pepper hair. His white skin was flawless—no wrinkles or blemishes. He looked ageless, but I guessed he was late twenties, early thirties despite his greying hair speaking of wisdom far beyond his years.

His hands were concealed in pockets of a dark charcoal suit with a cream shirt open at the throat and a diamond pin piercing his jacket lapel.

“Tex, what are you—” Vaughn’s voice was quiet but possessive. Eyeing up Jethro, he stayed polite by offering his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Hawk. I appreciate your interest in my sister’s talent, but my father has it wrong. Tonight she is unavailable due to a family commitment.”

I would’ve smiled if my stomach wasn’t knotted as the two men assessed each other.

Jethro slowly took my brother’s hand, shaking once. “Pleasure, I’m sure. And I, in turn, can appreciate your interest in keeping your prior agreement with your sister, but alas. Your generous father has allowed me the enjoyment of ruining your plans and stealing her away.” His voice whispered through my gown, sending goosebumps down my spine. His accent was English, same as mine, but slightly more clipped. He sounded posh but rogue at the same time. Refined but uncouth.

My brother wasn’t impressed. His forehead furrowed.

“I hope that isn’t going to be an issue, Mr. Weaver. I’ve heard a lot about you and your family and would hate to upset you.” Mr. Hawk’s eyes landed on mine, capturing me in a cage of golden irises and effortless power. “However, I’ve heard the most about your sister. And I have no doubt it will be a pleasure knowing her.”

I gulped. No one had spoken to me like that—especially in front of my father. Who was this man? Why did his very existence fill me with hot and cold and awareness and fear?

“Listen here,” my father blustered. I tensed, ready for the outrage I knew he was capable of, but his lips snapped closed and the fire in his gaze didn’t erupt. Swallowing hard, he finished, “I presume my obligations are complete?”

Jethro nodded, a lock of hair brushing his forehead. “You presume correctly.”

Fear evolved to panic. Obligations? My God, is my father in some sort of trouble? I clutched his sleeve. “Dad. The show’s over. Let’s go for that drink.” I glanced at Vaughn, cursing my fluttering heart and the mix-match of emotions colliding inside.

My father pulled me close, pressing a single kiss on my cheek. “I love you, Nila, but I’ve kept you to myself for long enough. Mr. Hawk has asked if he can take you out tonight. I agreed. Vaughn and I can wait till another time.”