Third Debt (Indebted #4)(33)

I smiled smugly, stroking my collar as if it no longer heralded my death sentence but linked me to a man who belonged to me.

“No, I haven’t seen it.”

“Would you mind if you read some of it aloud, Ms. Weaver? Elaborate on a few key points?” George pointed at a Post-it note sticking from the pages. “I’ve bookmarked it for you.”

Flipping the magazine open, I gasped as the same model from the front smouldered in a centrefold. She wore a dress very similar to the feathered couture I paraded at the Milan show.

The title blazed in diamonds:

‘The Truth Behind the Weavers as told by Daphne Simons, Employee at Weaver Enterprises.’

“Do you know that employee?” Sylvie asked.

I looked up, shaking my head. “No. We hire too many people to know them all.”

The room turned silent as I skimmed the ridiculous article.

Nila Weaver, the daughter of the conglomerate company Weaver Enterprises has recently been spotted back in London after a stint outside the limelight. Gossip has spread over the past few weeks that her family are victims of an age-old dispute that defies all logic and rationality. A world where promises are kept and oaths are never broken. Her brother, Vaughn Weaver, recently broke his silence when his efforts to have his sister returned went unheeded.

Turning the tables on the leaked photographs depicting Ms. Weaver with a young man unknown at the time, and the rumour that she’d had a mental breakdown and run off with her mystery lover, the world was shocked to discover the man in the photographs wasn’t her lover, but her kidnapper.

How could they print such heresy?

Upon Nila Weaver’s return to London High Society, she’s been repeatedly asked to tell her story, but has remained silent on the matter. However, here at Elle, we have an exclusive interview with one of her employees.

Elle: Thank you for meeting with us, Daphne. Care to tell us what you know?

Daphne: Well, all I know is she returned to work last month. She’s always been rather quiet. Too work focused and always stumbling into things. But now, she’s even worse.

Elle: You mentioned she seems different? Can you elaborate?

Daphne: It’s common knowledge about the collar. She never takes it off. She’s constantly touching it. The staff room is a buzz with conspiracies that she suffers that problem when a captive falls for her kidnapper…you know what I mean?

Elle: You’re saying she’s in love with the man who collared her?

Daphne: Yep. For sure. My theory is the debt stuff is just a cover up. I reckon she’s into that freaky business…you know like S&M? Not to mention the diamond collar is an obvious ode to belonging to a master when in those types of relationships. She’s changed.

Elle: How do you mean?

Daphne: Well… she used to be sweet, shy. It’s a family company, so we see the Weavers interact a lot. But now she’s shut down around her brother. Her love for the industry has gone.

Elle: And you believe this is due to a Sadomasochistic relationship?

Daphne: I believe she’s changed too much to fit in anymore. Mark my words. She won’t be in London long.

And there you have it; our very own textile heiress has returned bearing a collar, bruises, and a history of intolerable cruelty. I suppose we won’t get answers or know the full story until justice has been served.

“So, tell us,” George said. “Is any of that true? Are you in an S&M relationship?”

Jethro sat taller, chuckling under his breath. “You honestly expect us to answer questions about our sex life?”

Sylvie laughed. “Sorry if it sounds like we’re prying, but our readers love to know that stuff.”

Stroking my collar, I smiled coyly. “All your readers need to know is Jethro completes me both in and out of the bedroom.”

George laughed, slapping his thigh. “Now, that’s a politically correct reply, if I ever heard one.”

Jethro reclined, spreading his arm over the back of the loveseat. “The rumours about death and debts are complete lies. However, some parts are indeed true.”

I didn’t know how he did it, but in a few short sentences, he’d enraptured George and Sylvie.

“Oh, how so?”

“People no longer accept the idea of arranged marriages. They like to think we’re all free to do what we like, when we like, but realistically, we are all still governed by class, income, our family tree.” He ran a hand through his hair. “My family has known the Weavers for six hundred years. We’ve effectively grown up together, crossing paths and healing feuds, and ultimately agreeing to come together to form a strong alliance.”

George frowned. “So you’re saying this so-called Debt Inheritance is what? A marriage contract?”

Jethro shook his head. “Not quite. It’s an agreement of debts between two houses that strive to support each other with payments in different forms throughout the years.”

I blinked stupidly, unable to believe the way Jethro spun three weeks of rumours. It made people seem ridiculous—clutching at straws and jumping onto a witch-hunt they knew nothing about.

He sounded so reasonable, so justifiable.

His speech was too perfect not to be scripted…perhaps by Bonnie.

Bonnie.

Did she tell Jethro to come and collect me, or was she against this development? After all, she’d kicked me out. She was the one who wanted me gone.