First Debt (Indebted #2)(55)

At the time, I’d drafted it purely to keep myself busy while staying my distance. But I think I always knew in my heart I would make her sign.

After all, it would ensure Nila would stay mine, even if she fell for my brother. Even if Kes won.

A binding agreement.

Something that trumped even the Debt Inheritance.

An agreement my father would disintegrate if he ever found out.



My study.

My sanctuary.

The one place no one else was permitted to go.

What are you doing bringing her in here?

I hadn’t thought this through. But I couldn’t turn back now.

Unlocking the thick carved door, I pushed Nila through the entrance. Once inside, I locked it, letting her drift forward on her own accord. Her eyes moved around the space quickly, expertly going to the exits of bathroom, balcony sash window, and the doorway in which we’d come.

Poor girl.

She’d changed so much already. A true survivalist. A puritan who only wanted to live.

But you’ll die. Just like the rest of them.

I searched for the cold smugness drilled into me by my father. I was supposed to enjoy this—to love the hunt and dispatching of Weavers.

It was a family hobby. A trade passed down, linking our forefathers and ensuring our lineage had common ground.

So why did the thought of beheading her twist my gut?

Why did the very notion of watching her f*ck my brother churn my heart in a blender?

My entire body rebelled at the thought of an axe detaching her long black hair, slicing through the vulnerable cord of muscle, shutting her dark eyes forever.

My cock twitched as she spun to face me, her hands flying to her hips. She seemed out of place in the rotund room with its six windows, lush Chinese sewn carpet, and treasure trove of small lead figurines from Indian and Cowboy child play-sets.

The wealth of history and monetary value of the things in this room would make a museum weep.

“What are we doing in here?”

I stalked to my desk. Unlocking a secret drawer beneath the jumble of stationery, I pulled forth a drafted document that no one else knew about but me. There were no cameras in this room. No one spying on what I was about to do.

Just us.

Only we would know what we’d done.

“Come here,” I said, snapping my fingers.

Nila narrowed her eyes. “You do that often.”

“Do what?”

She snapped her fingers. “Summon me like your pet; like your dogs.”

I placed both hands flat on the desk. “You are my pet. I thought we’d discussed that.”

She stomped forward, a conundrum of bright temper in the drab world of my study. Her sandaled feet padded on the thick carpet, planting herself in front of my desk. Her head tilted, long hair cascading over her shoulder, completely free and glossy as the midnight sky. “Funny, I thought we’d established I was something more.”

My back stiffened. “Since when?”

Her lips stretched, baring her teeth in an evil little grin. “Since I made you come. Since you showed me you were human. Since you ran from me for the past fortnight, all because you’re not dealing with whatever is going on between us.”

She moved closer.

I stood ramrod straight, clenching every muscle against her advance.

“Tell me, Jethro Hawk. Would a pet be able to suck you? Would a pet swallow your cum? Would a pet pleasure you?” Her voice dropped to a seduction. “Would a pet admit to missing its owner, because it’d become addicted to the desire it felt in its master’s presence?”

My mind exploded.

I swallowed hard, hating the swirl of lust and temper that had no right to build. I’d barricaded emotions from my life, so why did the mere hint of an argument with Nila completely undo everything I’d tried so hard to fix?

I couldn’t breathe.

Needing a distraction, I pulled her phone that I’d confiscated from my pocket and held it up.

Instantly, her mouth fell open. Greed and excitement glowed on her face. “You still have it.”

“Of course, I still have it.” Swiping my finger over the screen, I muttered, “There are some extremely interesting messages on here.”

Nila froze. Her cheeks lost all colour. “I told you that I’d been in touch with my brother. I told you he knew.”

I nodded. “You did.”

She tried to hide her nervousness but didn’t succeed. “So what’s interesting? I told you the truth.”

What was interesting?

How about the f*cking messages reeking of smut and combustible need? I’d spent many an evening sorting through the unsent drafts to Kite007. She’d deleted more messages than she’d actually sent, hiding so much.

By reading the messages she didn’t want seen, I saw right into her soul. I finally got a clue of who Nila Weaver was. And she was no longer the heartbreakingly timid woman who’d been a plaything for her brother and a slave for her father.

She was so, so much more.

Every draft she’d typed but never sent rested in her phone like a perfect calendar of her growth from na?ve daughter to fierce opponent.

Every single message she’d typed to him—to the man she knew as Kite—further showed the truth of who she really was.

Her emails had been nothing but work related.