First Debt (Indebted #2)(24)

In a way, we were both controlled—her by love, me by…

Clenching my jaw, I shook my head. Get out. You found that silence. Time to find it again. The cameras are rolling, the puppeteers are tugging, and it’s show-time.

Stalking past the corridor that led to the bachelor wing—my bachelor wing—I kept tugging my unwilling Weaver toward the first part of the debt.

I was lucky that so much of the house was segmented just for my use. My brothers shared with the Diamonds. Their quarters far exceeded any other compound, but they still had strict rules to follow.

My stomach tensed, thinking of last night’s business. We always conducted the bulk of our work at night. Ten of us had fulfilled the brief, and I’d cranked up my newest Harley that’d arrived from Milan, thanks to Flaw, and thundered through the darkness to ensure a new diamond shipment made it intact to the cutters and dealers.

Diamond smuggling was f*cking dangerous. Not only was the law out to prosecute, but every sticky-fingered arsehole wanted a piece. Diamonds were the easiest, most convenient way to move wealth—small but worth a fortune. The Black Diamonds had formed, not for the love of riding and a brotherhood of like-minded bikers, but purely to kick the shit out of anyone who managed to get close enough to rob us.

Before, we’d moved merchandise with armoured vans and suits in broad daylight. But vans were such easy targets—so damn obvious.

So, we’d evolved.

Ten bikers…six with diamond cargo, four without. We rode in formation with guns armed and ready to defend. Police scanners kept us off roads where roadblocks were prevalent, and our fierce notoriety steadily grew.

Robberies were still attempted—shit, they always would be. Opportunists would give anything to intercept even a small shipment. Who wouldn’t for an easy catchment of over three million pounds’ worth of stones?

But we never chose the same route twice, we never let thieves walk away with their lives, and we earned the reputation of ruthless murderers.

After dealing with Nila and the mess she caused inside me, I’d craved an ambush. I’d wanted some motherf*ckers to pounce, so I could give myself to mayhem and teach them a lesson. I’d wanted a fight.

But the night remained silent apart from our grumbling machines, and the delivery went smoothly.

By the time I crawled into bed at four a.m., I suffered a knot of tension in my gut and no amount of fantasising about f*cking Nila could stop it. I’d laid in bed going over what happened in the forest. I gripped my cock and imagined sliding inside her and showing her once and for f*cking all she couldn’t win—no matter that she had. I’d never had an orgasm so intense, so draining. Her mouth had been alchemy. The release she’d given left me silent inside…but different to the icy silence I’d been taught to wield.

I’d been sated enough to permit my barriers to drop, to relax for the first time in my life.

And I wanted to hurt her for making me feel that. To glimpse an alternative to the one I’d been taught. But no matter how much I wanted to teach her a lesson, I also wanted to drive her insane with pleasure, so she felt what I did.

“I can walk on my own, you know.” Nila tugged her wrist, trying to free herself from my grip.

Our feet—mine in dress shoes, hers in flip-flops—whispered down the plush red-carpeted corridor. “I like knowing you have no choice but to follow my every footstep, Ms. Weaver.”

She growled under her breath.

Turning a corner, I took her down a different route. I had no reason other than to confuse her. She would have no idea where we were going until the final second.

“Wow.” Nila lagged behind, her eyes fixated on the perimeter and the huge wall hangings. The beautiful tapestries hung from brass rods two stories high. Depictions of hunting mythical creatures—blood spurting from unicorns and griffons impaled on spikes—were the cheery décor.

“Who did all these? Was it your ancestors?”

I chuckled. “You think we’re skilled at arts and crafts?” Shaking my head, I said, “We aren’t weavers or sewers. We have much more important things to do.”

“Like hunt?”

I nodded. “Amongst other pastimes.”

“So who did them?”

I scowled. “Why do you think there has to be a link between something appealing to the eye and history? Diamonds buy a lot of things, Ms. Weaver. There comes a time when wealth transforms, and purchasing works of art is one of them.”

She shuddered, looking away.

Why the f*ck did she shudder? It was the way of the world. Everybody knew that the rich grew richer, and the poor sold their souls for a piece of it.

Silence fell awkwardly between us as we traversed the distance to the other wing of the house. I’d spent an entire lifetime in this monolithic prison and still managed to get lost.

Turning the last corner, Nila slammed to a halt.

My lips twitched at the corners. “Recognise something?”

Her dark eyes widened with horror. “You can’t take me in there.”

“I can and I will.”

Before us rested the huge double doors of the dining room.

Nila squirmed in my hold. “You said I was to pay the First Debt. I’ve already paid the one where your foul associates licked me. You can’t mean to repeat it.”

I growled, “What time is it?”