A Debt Owed(17)

It was so easy to get into her apartment.

Once she ran off, I had her followed, and when I knew where she lived, all I had to do was look under the potted plant for a spare key. Stupid girl … doesn’t she realize that’s how dirty men like me get inside her home?

Hearing her breathe softly into her pillow as she sleeps the night away entices me. Her chest rises and falls with each breath she takes, and her eyes flutter in her REM sleep. Is she dreaming of me and our chance encounter? Or is she dreaming of a way to escape the nightmare that encompasses her entire life?

I inch closer, lured in by her magnificent scent. I want to raise the sheets, grab her, and take her away right now.

But I have to hold myself back. It would definitely ruin the plan I have in mind.

So I step back again, each time a little farther, savoring every inch of her as a snapshot that I’ll keep in my mind for my own pleasure.

Oh, filthy little bird, with your strawberry lips and fairy-like pink hair … you will be mine.

Soon.





Chapter 7





Easton

Present



My excitement intensified the moment we landed. Not just because we’re back in the country where I live, where I know the people better, and where I feel at home, but also because I couldn’t wait to see her face once she realized there was no fucking way she’d ever be able to talk to anyone—not the cops, not any other flyers, and not any personnel. Too bad for her, she still had hopes that’d be the case.

Those hopes got crushed the second my limo met us on the airstrip to pick us up right when we walked off the jet. The look in her eyes was magnificent. The despair grew with time and turned her into a dark, shivering mess. Like a ghost floating through the air, she settled into her seat. I didn’t even have to force her. She went inside my mansion without a fight, which was a nice surprise.

It’s always incredibly fascinating to watch people disintegrate in front of me. I can’t ever get enough. Maybe that makes me a sadistic asshole, but I don’t give a damn. I love it. It gets me going, making me want to put my hands all over her and show her who’s boss.

She hasn’t ever been around an actual man, and that’s about to change. I know she can feel it. The air in this car is thick with unspoken words and desire. I can almost taste her submission. It won’t be long until she fully commits … I’m sure of it.

And then I’ll make her my wife.

She might think I’m only in it for the short term, but I want her for the long run. I want her body and soul. And I want her by her own choice. I want her to submit out of her own free will.

I want her spreading her legs, waiting for my finger. I want her on her knees begging for my cock. And I want her to willfully put my ring on her own damn finger, knowing it’s forever.

It’s not just about owning her. I’ve already accomplished that by purchasing her from her father in exchange for a simple loan. No, I want her to crumple and admit defeat. She might not realize this now, but she will in due time.

I clear my throat when we drive through the gates of my home, and she shifts in her seat. She seems anxious, sweat drops gleaming on her forehead as she stares out the back window at the closing gates.

She may be scoping her surroundings, trying to find a way out, but there is none. I have plenty of guards to keep her from escaping should she try. Not to mention the fact that my house is locked down 24/7 unless I’m there.

She’s going to be a pretty princess in a pretty castle, just like she always dreamed of.

“We’re here,” I say as the limo stops in front of the door. Seeing my house is refreshing. I’m so glad I moved back to this country. It was my home for so many years, and it never felt right in America. Despite being born there, this is where I belong.

Charlotte sucks in a breath but doesn’t say a word. The scowl on her face speaks volumes, though.

I get out of the car and walk to the other side to open her door and hold my hand out courteously. Instead, she gets out without even touching me, passing me on high heels and narrowly missing a puddle. Adventurous girl, that’s for sure.

She walks up the steps and inside the door that’s already opened for her by one of my butlers. She wanders into the main hall, then looks around without moving an inch.

I place a hand on her shoulder. Her muscles tense, and a grin spreads on my lips in response.

“Do you like it here?” I ask.

She licks her lips briefly, and says, “When will you let me go?”

This again?

“Never,” I reply, narrowing my eyes. “Why do you keep asking?”

She looks me straight in the eyes as she answers. “I won’t ever stop asking.”

My throat tightens, and I swallow in response. I didn’t expect her to say that. She’s not dumb; she already knows the answer. The only reason she will ask me again and again … is to confront me with my choice. To make me see the devil I’ve become.

But I don’t care. I came to that same conclusion long ago when I decided to go through with this.

“When did you turn into such a monster?” she asks.

The question is like a stab to the heart with a butcher’s knife. As if she doesn’t know the answer to that full well … that she’s the reason I am the way I am today. Simple cause and effect, and her denying me even a simple smile set into motion a chain of events that can’t ever be undone.