First Debt (Indebted #2)(61)

Kite007: What?

Taking a deep breath, I typed:

Needle&Thread: Would you kiss me first? Or is that against the rules?

A minute. Then two.

Kite007: I wouldn’t just kiss you. I would hold your cheeks and worship your mouth. I would devour your lips and make drunken love to your tongue. I would f*cking inhale you, so you would live forever in my lungs.

I couldn’t move.

Yet another difference between the Hawk brothers. One would kiss me, and one went out of his way to avoid it. One would adore me until the day of my death, and one would probably dance upon my grave because it meant his obligations were complete.

My heart crumbled into dust.

I couldn’t—I couldn’t do this anymore.

Turning my phone around, I undid the case, tore the battery out, and dumped the dismantled device into the drawer of the bedside table.

I didn’t care about replying.

I didn’t care if my silence hurt his feelings.

All I cared about was nursing the cyclonic pain inside me.

And trying to forget all about Jethro f*cking Hawk.



The next morning, I was showered and clothed in a black maxi dress with a sequined orchid on the chest and purple ballet slippers.

I needed some space and planned to go for a walk around the estate. I still hadn’t turned my phone on and had no desire to do so. It was still in pieces in the drawer. For now, I didn’t care about the outside world or even Kite’s reply.

I didn’t care.

It was liberating.

Sitting on the end of my bed, I quickly plaited my hair and draped the long rope over my shoulder.

My head wrenched up as the door to my room slammed open.

“What the—”

Jethro stood breathing hard in the doorway. My cold-hearted nemesis wore black jeans and a grey t-shirt—seriously, didn’t he own any other colours?

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was gravel and granite and ice.

I stood up, planting my hands on my hips. “Good morning to you, too. If you must know, master, it’s time for my walk. I’m a good little pet, you see. Making sure I have my daily exercise.”

I knew I played with fire, or ice as the case might be, but I really didn’t give a damn.

The previous night in his office had broken something inside me and Kes/Kite had finished me off with talks of wanting me.

I couldn’t decipher my panic last night when Kite said he would kiss me—my sudden terror hadn’t made sense. But now it did.

If I let myself fall into Kes’s/Kite’s trap of kindness, I would lose everything I’d fought to gain. And I wasn’t willing to give that up. I was selfish and liked this new Nila. And if that meant I had to keep my distance from kind-hearted people and only surround myself with bastards, then so be it.

Jethro would be the only one permitted to spike my heart and draw reluctant wetness. No one else.

“Careful, Ms. Weaver,” Jethro murmured. Stalking into the room, he kicked the door closed behind him.

His presence was a challenge, and I was prepared to meet it. Crossing the small distance between us, we met in the middle of the carpet; every muscle tense and ready to fight.

His nostrils flared, golden eyes delving deeply into mine. “I thought you’d be hiding under your bed after your debacle in my office.”

I shrugged. “Everyone has a limit, and I crossed mine. Unluckily for you, my limit has now increased, so don’t expect me to break again anytime soon.” I smiled, thinking of my reply to my father. I’d finally had the balls to tell him to leave me alone. Jethro would be no different.

I was prepared to unplug him, just like I’d unplugged my phone.

Taking another step, my fingertips landed on his chest, dipping coyly to his belt. His eyes flared, but he held his ground. “Thank you for pushing me, Jethro. Without you, I would still be terrified. But now I feel surprisingly…calm.”

A calm where I’d stopped fretting over the future. A calm where I was just as volatile and just as unhinged as they were.

“I can’t keep up with you.” His voice was dark with a trace of anger. He cocked his head, his salt-and-pepper hair catching the morning sun glinting through the window. “You’ve surprised me again, Ms. Weaver, and once again, I don’t like it.” He leaned forward, his lips so close to mine. “I’m beginning to wonder if everything I know about you is a lie.”

I stood firm. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

Why does this conversation sound like the one I had yesterday by phone?

He chuckled. “We Hawks have our ways. I know more than you think.”

His cryptic comment didn’t derail me. He’d read Kite’s messages. He knew everything about me that I’d meant for a perfect stranger.

I stared harder, trying to uncover his many, many layers. But it was pointless—like staring into a black lake with no reflection other than myself.

“Come. It’s time for Gemstone and breakfast.” He smiled coldly. “I have no doubt you’ll be starving after your…what was that? Would you prefer the word breakdown or hysterics?”

I straightened my shoulders. “Neither.”

“You have to pick one.”

“No, I don’t. If you want me to define it, I’ll call it my way of saying goodbye.”