A Debt Owed (A Dark Billionaire Romance) (The Debt Duet Book 1)
A Debt Owed: Chapter 22

“What the …?” I murmur, but my voice is stolen halfway through.

Banners with bold text about some grand re-opening along with my brother’s name are slapped onto every decoration adorning the building.

My throat turns dry as a bone.

Easton’s hand wraps around my shoulders, pulling me close to him and forcing me to walk when he does. “C’mon. Let’s go inside. I’m dying to show you.”

Show me … my father’s renewed and renovated restaurant, now under my brother’s wing. And to show me off to them as a submissive, controllable, happy wife.

What. A. Lie.

All this time, I thought he was taking me out to dinner or to some fancy museum. But he had this planned all along. I feel cheated, used … betrayed. As though he dangled a carrot in front of me and then ate it too, all while gazing at me.

He’s cruel and unforgiving, and walking next to him up the stairs to the five-star restaurant feels like a joke. The idea of stomping on his feet and running off briefly flutters into my mind, but then I spot two guards walking behind us, who apparently drove along with us all the way to this place, and I change my mind.

We walk inside, into what’s now on of my brother’s hotel-restaurants, and I don’t even recognize the place. A chic black and white design with lots of contrast—opposite of the warm colors my father often preferred—replace the old, overdone red and gold interior.

But I guess this is the price he had to pay to keep everything running. Not only did he need to sacrifice me for the money but he also had to change his entire business into something that didn’t remotely feel like anything he’d create. Suits him well for trying to trade me. I hope the whole endeavor sinks into the ground.

Just as I hope Easton falls into a pile of shit on the way out of this restaurant should we ever leave this place. I’m pissed and at a loss for words as we stroll into the restaurant like all the other regular couples sipping drinks at the bar and chatting with each other. As if this is the normal thing to do for a rich, upper-class husband and wife. A husband who bought his wife from the very man he’s now walking up to with a big smile on his face.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Davis,” Easton says with a certain sneer.

When my father turns around to face us, I’m mortified. In an instant, our eyes connect, and the contentment evaporates from his face, making place for a grim scowl. Then he looks at Easton.

“Easton,” he mumbles.

Easton holds out his hand, and my father takes it, only to be roughed up visibly. It’s as though the two compete for who has the toughest handshake, and neither of them wants to give in.

“Didn’t know you’d be coming too,” my father says when they settle on a truce.

Easton cracks a vicious smile. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to miss the grand re-opening of my latest investment here in the Netherlands … with my latest prize.” He pulls me toward him for a forced hug, squeezing my ass while my father watches.

I want to spit in his face.

“Hmm, I see you two are getting along quite well,” my father muses.

That’s the first thing he says? No apology for selling me to this man as some kind of sacrificial lamb for his own sins? No sorry for not even contacting me and asking how I’ve been all this time?

Both their faces should be spat on.

“She’s adjusting well in my mansion. Very easygoing and frisky, if I might say so myself,” Easton retorts, and my cheeks light up like a cigarette’s bud at the sight of my father’s enlarged pupils.

His heart probably jumped through hoops there. And it’s all because of Easton’s lying ass. He should be ashamed of himself, but the moment I part my lips, Easton immediately holds up his finger right in front of my face.

“No need, Charlotte. You know how that would look on your father, right?” He glances at me from the sidelines, but it’s enough to shut me up before I even begin talking. The glimmer in his eyes predicts thunder as though he’s warning me not to step across the boundaries he’s laying out right now.

None of this was for me. This outing wasn’t for my enjoyment. I wasn’t even the reason he wanted to be here. This was all because of my father and the re-opening of this restaurant. He wants to flaunt me to my family as some goddamn trophy wife. And I went along with it like a fool.

Sighing, I turn my head and gaze at all the people talking amongst one another. They’re blissfully unaware of what’s happened here, of all the reasons why this restaurant underwent a makeover and changed its name. Why I’m even here … as a groomed kitty cat on a leash.

“Charlotte, why don’t you go to the bar? Have a drink and enjoy yourself,” Easton says, and he leans in to press a soft but forceful kiss on my cheeks as though to show to my father I’ve adjusted to the situation. As though I’ve truly become the wife Easton’s always wished for, and my father should be jealous of him.

Fuck him and fuck my father for believing his lies.

I’m not okay, and I will never pretend to be.

So I shrug Easton off and walk away without even acknowledging what either of them said. I never greeted my father, but I don’t care anymore. He can drop dead for all I care. He didn’t even ask if I was okay. All he cared about was what Easton said; as if it completely tilts him off his axis that he’s here. Not me, his daughter, but Easton.

I sit on a stool at the bar and order a tequila on the rocks from the bartender. I’ll need a drink or two to get through this. The question is, do I want to?

I look around the room for a moment. There are three potential exits, and only two guards following me. Sure, they’re not right beside me, but they’re creeping around the room, keeping their eyes on me. Easton must’ve paid them well, too, in case I attempt to escape.

The bartender hands me my drink, and I take a big sip. The burn feels nice going down my throat, and the sharpness takes the edge off things. I wonder how many it’d take for me to get drunk. I’ve never had nearly enough to get there, but tonight, I might.

As I chug down my drink, someone slides onto the stool beside me and stares at me awkwardly. A familiar smile from when I was still a youngster makes me melancholic.

“Hey, sis.”

“Elijah,” I mutter, putting down my glass.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, confused.

“You didn’t see? My name’s outside on the board.” He chuckles as if it’s no big deal even though it is.

“No, I mean, why are you here … at the bar? Aren’t you supposed to be entertaining guests?”

“Yeah, but I figured I’d take a break and talk to my sister for once,” he says.

I make a face and nod a couple of times before taking another sip.

“How are you holding up?” he asks after an awkward silence.

“How am I holding up?” I gaze at him for a second to see if he’s joking, but he seems dead serious. “Well, let’s see, I’m being held against my will in a mansion that’s more like a prison, I was forced to marry someone I don’t love, and now I’m at a place where freedom is flaunted in my face, but I’m not allowed to have it.” I cock my head and make a face. “How are you doing?”

A smile forms on his face, but it disappears in the blink of an eye. “That sounds … rough.”

I snort and take another sip of my drink. “That’s not even the half of it.”

He grabs my hand. “Look, I just wanted to say sorry.”

“Why?” I raise a brow. “You didn’t do shit.” I mean it when I say that. He didn’t cause this, but he also did nothing to stop it from happening either. He just sat there at my wedding and pretended nothing was wrong.

“Did you know Father exchanged me for money? The same money that bought your prized position as CEO?” I ask through gritted teeth.

His lip twitches as he swallows. “Yes, but—”

I hold my hand up right in front of his face. “I don’t wanna hear it.” And I take the last sip of my drink. Fuck. I’m gonna need to order a new one. There’s no way I’ve had enough alcohol to make it through this event.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” he says. “I didn’t know what to do. It didn’t matter what I said; Father didn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop.”

“You could’ve not accepted the position,” I retort.

“And then what? You’d still be in Mr. Van Buren’s hands,” he replies. “Besides, this was planned months ago. You know that.”

“You could’ve still refused. At least you would’ve been an actual brother for once,” I hiss back, and I signal the bartender. “Another tequila, please.”

“Are you here just to drink?” he asks.

“I’m forced to be here, so I might as well drink until I don’t remember any of it.”

He frowns. “Forced?”

“I don’t get a say in anything as a wife to that devil,” I say, swallowing away all the other words I want to spout about him.

He gulps. “So it wasn’t your idea to come here then?”

I make a face. “No, why would it be? Do you think I enjoy seeing people have fun because of my misery?”

His eyes narrow. “But how did Van Buren know about this event?”

“You’re joking, right?” I laugh. “You’re the one who’s hosting this party with Father. You invited him.”

“We didn’t,” he answers.

I pause and lower my drink for a moment. “But how did he …?”

“I don’t know, but I promise you, it didn’t come from us,” he says.

If my father and brother didn’t invite Easton, then who did? How did he know they were hosting this party at this restaurant? How did he replace out that my brother’s CEO appointment was today?

“It wasn’t in the newspaper?” I ask.

“No. It’s all hush-hush. Private invitation only.”

I stare at my drink, clenching the glass, but the longer I stare, the more diluted everything seems. I feel lightheaded, sickly even, but not because of the alcohol …

Easton knew this event was happening for some reason, and the fact I can’t figure out why makes me queasy.

“We did send you an invite,” Elijah adds.

I gaze at him while lurking over my glass. “Where?”

“Your email. I thought you may still read it while being … there. You know.”

He can’t even say it out loud because, deep down, he knows it’s wrong. And still, he won’t act.

“You’re a lousy brother, you know that?” I say, taking a sip of my freshly made drink.

He sucks on his top lip. “I try my best.”

I snort and shake my head. “Typical. You were always Father’s favorite.”

“Someone had to be,” he says. “I’m sorry, Charlotte, but you know how Father is. It was his way or the highway.”

“Exactly why I’m in this situation as a mail-order bride.” I stare off at the wall in front of me that has racks filled with bottles of liquor on them, and I wonder which one I’m going to take next.

“Hey, you could’ve just … let him and his business sink, you know,” Elijah says.

“And then what?” I eye him. “You wouldn’t have had your shot at being CEO, and Father would be dead.”

“Dead?” Elijah looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind.

“Oh, he hasn’t told you?” I muse, sipping my drink. “Father couldn’t repay the debt he owed Easton, so it was me or his life. And he chose me.” I put my drink down. “Now you know.”

Elijah stares in disbelief, his mouth wide open. “Father exchanged you to save his own life?” His face turns a little bit red, and he adjusts his tie and clears his throat. “Why did you accept it?”

“What else was I supposed to do? Let him die?” I know I sound like a bitch, but he’s making me wanna pull my hair out.

“Well … yeah,” he says, shrugging, and I laugh.

“Typical,” I say, shaking my head again. “No wonder he made you CEO. You’re as heartless as he is.”

He nods a couple of times and sighs. “I guess I deserve that.”

“You do, yeah,” I reply cynically.

“Look.” He places a hand on my arm. “I wanna help you. Tell me what I can do.”

“What can you do, Elijah? If I don’t stay with Easton, he’ll have Father murdered.”

“Why do you care so much?” he asks.

“He’s our father; how could I not?”

He sucks on his bottom lip again almost as if he can’t believe what I’m saying. Maybe I have more of our mother inside me than I thought. I don’t remember much about her, but I do remember she was always kind to people. And she genuinely loved and cared for us, unlike our father. Too bad I didn’t get a lot of time with her. Cancer’s a bitch.

“Well, whatever the case, if you need my help for whatever reason”—Elijah leans forward and winks—“you know you can always come to me, right?”

I soak up his words and cock my head at him. “You think I can get out of that house? That I have access to a phone, the internet, basic things?” I laugh. “You really have no idea, do you?”

He looks befuddled.

“I’m a prisoner, Elijah. I’m not free to do whatever I want. I have no way of contacting anyone on the outside world,” I say, clenching my drink as though it’s my lifeline. “In fact, this is the first time I’ve been outside the property’s fences since we got married.”

He grimaces. “Does he hurt you?”

“No … not physically,” I say.

Elijah squeezes my arm. “Tell me.”

“It’s …” How can I tell him? How can I explain to my brother what it’s like to be a woman? To be wanted for your body but not your brain? To be used like a sex doll and thrown aside like an old toy?

I can’t. Not when my father’s life and Elijah’s position as CEO are at stake. Despite the fact that my father doesn’t give a damn about me … I can’t let him die. That’s not who I am.

“It’s nothing,” I say.

“You’re lying. I know when you’re lying, Charlotte. You did it all the time when we were young.”

“You don’t understand,” I snap. “I never had anyone before. He’s my first. My first ever … the man who’s keeping me as a pet.” Tears well up in my eyes, and I fight to keep them at bay.

Elijah grabs a few strands of my hair and tucks them behind my ear, and his gentle touch has a single tear rolling down my cheek, which I wipe away with the back of my hand.

“You’re right, I don’t. But I know you’re strong, and you can do anything you set your mind to.”

His words feel rehearsed, just as I’ve come to expect from the man who has to follow in my father’s footsteps. It’s only natural for them to feel less and less over time. After all, emotions only hold you back and keep you from true power.

I turn my head and close my eyes, breathing out a sigh.

“It was nice speaking with you, Elijah,” I say. “Go entertain your guests.”

He nods. I’m sure he understands there’s nothing more we can do for each other. No one can destroy Easton’s desire to claim me as his own, not even my brother. And as long as Easton remains their biggest investor, there’s no way Elijah would risk hurting or even killing him. Sacrificing his spot as CEO to save me from this life is too much to ask of him.

Even though he’s my brother, even though people always say family goes above all else … my family values money above all else, and nothing will ever change that.

“In any case, I’m going to investigate how Easton knew about this event. Maybe he’s been digging into our family business,” Elijah mutters.

He gets off his stool, but before he goes, he orders another drink for me and scoots it over to me. Then he says, “Make sure you enjoy this … as long as it lasts.” He adds a tentative smile before leaving me behind at the bar. The smile on his face grows when he spots familiar people, probably others our father introduced him to for the sake of the company. Everything is for the sake of the company and our legacy as a family, including his fake smile that appears and vanishes as quickly as his heart does.

As I grab the glass and stare at the contents, I notice the camera hanging in the back of the room. It immediately reminds me of all the cameras in Easton’s house, and how he’s always aware of where I am. And it makes me question … where else does he watch people? How do I know it’s contained to his house only? What if …

The glass in my hand topples over, and I stare in disbelief at the alcohol pouring over the bar. The bartender jumps into action, wiping it all up.

“Sorry,” I mutter, frozen in place.

“It’s fine,” he replies, swiftly cleaning the bar and leaving it as shiny as it was before I knocked over my glass.

I didn’t mean to, but something made me snap. A memory of a night from before I was married when I was still in my own bed in my own home …

And found the main door unlocked the morning after I woke up even though I was a thousand percent sure I locked myself inside.

Fear ripples across my back.

What if it was him?