A Debt Owed(8)

“Okay …” Elijah mutters, standing beside my father. “Awkward.” He always watches as I’m about to get my ass handed to me. He never intervenes even though I often look him directly in the eyes. Just as I am now. All he does is turn around and walk off, not wanting to get in the middle of it. Typical.

Rolling my eyes, I kiss my father’s and his new wife’s cheeks. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, darling,” she says, making my skin crawl.

“What the hell were you doing there?” my father asks. “Chatting up that lowlife?”

“He’s not a lowlife, Father,” I say, making a face.

“His father’s a caterer. You have no business talking to a boy like that.”

I despise how judgmental my father can be sometimes. As if no one’s ever good enough for him. “I can talk to whoever I want.”

He grabs my wrist and forces me to come closer. “Charlotte, stop acting like a little brat.”

He’s making a scene now, and everybody’s watching. I’m being humiliated in front of all the guests.

“I’m not a brat! Stop calling me that.” I jerk free of his grip, and say, “I can do whatever I want. You can’t control me.”

Suddenly, he smacks me across the face. Right in front of everyone.

My face stings when tears roll down the red mark he left on my cheek.

“How dare you? You’re ruining this perfect wedding. Behave.”

“You hit me,” I mumble, touching my cheek.

“That’s what you get for acting out. You listen to me when I tell you not to talk to someone, Charlotte.” He points at my chest as if his finger adds extra weight to his words. It sure feels like it. “Don’t ever embarrass me like that again.”

My father and his new wife turn around and walk up to the guests. “Now, where’s the music? It’s time for our first dance.”

Everyone starts smiling again, and they all walk away toward the staged area while I’m left with my head hanging between my shoulders.

His embarrassment … that’s all that matters to him. His image. His pride.

And I tarnished that idea by even being remotely interested in someone who’s beneath us. Because that’s what he thinks when he looks at someone like Easton. Just a worker who should keep his mouth shut.

But that’s not what I see when I look at him right now. The pity and empathy he exudes from one look are enough to make me cry even harder. I don’t deserve any of that compassion or that sincerity that encompasses him.

And when he parts his lips to say something from across the terrain, I spin on my heels and run off.



Charlotte

Present



I once met a boy at a wedding party. It was a picturesque location with the prettiest of decorations, but under the pressure of money, it all fell flat … except for him. That boy who managed to lighten my mood even when I was feeling down because of my father’s choice to marry his shiny new plastic wife.

I never understood why I was so enamored with talking to that boy or why I was so attracted to him. Maybe I wished for my life to be as simple as his seemed to be. Maybe I wished for a father like his instead of mine, who would rather slap me and give me away than love me.

Or maybe I wished for that same boy to whisk me away into a prettier life.

But I never expected any of those wishes to come to fruition.

Now I’m stuck in a restaurant with that same boy who’s now a full-fledged man, complete with a chiseled body and a smirk that makes girls’ knees buckle.

It does nothing for me. Taken against my will, I was just a pawn in a grand scheme to destroy my father’s empire. And now he expects me to marry him too as a payment toward my father’s debt.

No freaking way.

I can’t believe I ever fawned over this guy or even liked him as a boy. Look at what he’s become. All rich men are the same. Once they have cash, they behave like animals, devouring anything they come across. And now it’s my turn.

I don’t intend to become his wife. But I can’t run away from him either because I don’t want to have the murder of my father on my conscience. My father may be a giant asshole, but he’s still my father, and I still care about him. Despite him treating me badly all my life, I don’t want him to die.

My father would never risk his life for money. Did my father go to him, or was it the other way around? Maybe Easton was after me all this time. “Tell me, honestly, did you give my father that loan just to get to me?”

The wicked grin that spreads on his face speaks volumes. “Not only a pretty fucking princess but a smart one too.”

My skin crawls. I don’t want to believe it, but I have to. All these years after the wedding, he was still obsessed with me. Why, I don’t know because we barely spoke and only on a handful of occasions. But my father forbade it in an instant, and that was that. But I guess Easton didn’t take it so well.

“So you wanted his business to fail. Did you set him up?”

“No, that was all on him,” he replies.

“How much did you offer him?” I ask, feeling resentful of the price tag on my head.

“Twenty million.”

My jaw drops, and I try my hardest not to let him see, but I’m already too late, judging from the devilish gleam in his eyes.