Nila’s mouth fell onto the table. The same table I’d spread her over and driven my tongue deep inside.
Fuck, shouldn’t have thought about that.
My cock went from soft to hard in an instant. I shifted in my chair as memories of her blowing me in the forest came thick and fast. I’d come thick and fast. All down that beautiful throat.
I felt Cut watching me, the intensity of his gaze searing into my skin.
“What did you just say?” Nila whispered, her features strained.
Cut sat taller in his chair at the head of the table, steepling his hands in front of him. “Jethro’s right, Nila.”
Nila.
I hated that everyone called her Nila. They had no right to her first name. If and when anyone addressed her by it, it should be me.
Why don’t you then? She wants you to. She asked strongly enough in the woods.
I didn’t have an answer to that. And I didn’t have the guts to search for one.
Nila shook her head, looking at my father. “Is this another one of your mind games?”
Cut smiled reservedly. “No games. I told you, you’re a part of this family now. You’ll be treated kindly and respectfully. You will come to care for us, just like you care for your own flesh and blood.”
“Never,” she spat.
Cut chuckled. “Your mother said the same thing, but by the end, she willingly paid the last debt. A pet can only hate its owner for so long. But ply it with warmth, safety, kindness, and good food, and soon…you’ll have no choice but to let go of that hatred in your heart and embrace the life we’re giving you.”
“The life you mean to steal.”
He nodded. “The life we mean to steal. But also the life we will continue to nurture as long as we have your strict obedience.” His eyes landed on me. “Give me an update, Jet. How are things progressing? Have you followed my instructions?”
Not one.
Not a single fucking rule had I followed. And yet…what had happened in the woods after I’d hunted her down had taken something from her. We’d shared something. Something I never wanted to share with another human being, because it made me feel so damn weak.
Ignoring the question, I sat taller. “The First Debt will be paid this afternoon.”
Nila sucked in a breath. Her fear of the unknown did a much better job than I ever could.
Cut relaxed into his chair. “Good.”
A second passed.
Another ticked silently before Nila snapped, “Have you forgotten my promise so soon, Mr. Hawk?”
The table froze; men looked from the skinny seamstress to their leather-jacketed leader.
Cut tensed. “No, I haven’t forgotten.”
“I meant what I said,” Nila growled. “I will kill you. You can pretend you’re kind and keep me in good health, but I will never forget what you’ve done.”
I stood up, slapping my palms loudly on the table. “Ms. Weaver!”
Her head snapped in my direction, her dark eyes blazing. “Was I talking to you? You’re as bad as he is. I have a good mind to kill you, too.”
My heart raced, shedding the glacier in favour of excitement.
Excitement? How the hell did she confuse me and draw out such lubricous reactions? “Oh, you can try. We’ll see who wins. A seasoned hunter or a fumbling dressmaker? I know who I’d place money on.”
Nila shoved her chair back, standing in one swift move. She looked as if she would hurl herself over the table to slap me.
Cut shouted, “Out! All of you.”
Shit.
Tearing my eyes from the trembling, angry woman before me, I muttered, “Cut, let me—”
Punish her.
Fuck her.
Ruin her in my own way.
Anything to stop you from touching what’s mine.
My father pursed his lips, pointing at the doors. “Out. I won’t ask again.”
The Diamond brothers stood up, their chairs sliding over thick carpet, before disappearing out the door in creaking leather and boots.
Daniel, Kes, and I didn’t move.
Nila stood locked in place.
Cut raised his eyebrow. “I believe I just gave an order?”
“What? All of us?” Kestrel asked, disbelief in his voice.
Cut didn’t reply, only glowered until the power of his rank, and the fact he was not only our father but our president, overrode our rebellion.
My brothers stood.
I gritted my teeth as Kes placed a hand on Nila’s shoulder, sharing a look with her that made my stomach fucking shake off any pretence of ice and go nuclear with fury.
Nila smiled softly, standing and moving toward the exit.
“Not you, Ms. Weaver. You and I are going to have a little chat,” Cut said quietly.
Nila closed her eyes briefly, blocking her panic. When she opened them again, all that remained was reckless confidence.
I wanted to say something, but my tongue tied into a useless piece of meat.
“Out, Jethro. I won’t ask again.”
Nodding once at my father, I moved stiffly. Nila refused to meet my eyes as I stalked out of the room, following my two siblings.
The last thing I heard as the doors closed was my father’s voice. “Now that we’re alone, my dear, I have something I want to share with you.”
I COULDN’T MOVE.
My knees locked against buckling. My heart thundered from fighting with Jethro. I hated myself for missing him. The instant the door closed behind him, I couldn’t stop the overwhelming urge to follow.
It’s because you think you understand him enough to predict his next atrocity.
I supposed that was right. Locked in a room with the man who killed my mother was a lot worse than being with the son I began to see as more than just a cold piece of ice.
“Sit, Nila.” Mr. Hawk smiled from the head of the table. I was grateful he didn’t come toward me or request that I go to him. But it did nothing to stop fear, repulsion, and rage from saturating my heart.
Pouring himself some orange juice from the carafe beside him, he muttered, “You have such a low opinion of us.”
Slowly, I sank back into my chair. Gripping the lip of the table, I forced myself to stay calm and ready to fight. “What do you expect? You stole me then let your men lick me.”
“Did they hurt you?”
His question hung heavy between us.
I wanted to lie and say yes they’d hurt me. Mentally scarred me. But that wouldn’t be the truth. If anything, they’d been the first step into finally embracing the strength I’d always been afraid of. Hurt me? Yes, they’d transformed me into a stranger.
I tilted my chin, looking down my nose. “It was wrong.”
“Was it? You seemed to find it pleasurable.”
I refused to let my cheeks pink.
“To give an unwilling woman to a room of men is wrong. Gross. Against the law.”
He chuckled, sounding way too much like his son. “Let me lay this out for you, seeing as Jethro currently seems to be struggling with following orders and discipline.” He placed his elbows on the table. “Obey, and you will have free reign of my home, go where you please, direct my staff as you see fit, and truly become one of us. I don’t have the time nor the inclination to keep you trapped in a tower with only the occasional scraps to keep you alive. That, my dear, in my experience doesn’t make a good pet, nor does it make a willing Weaver to pay back the debts owed.”
There was so much information in that small speech, I grasped at each word with eager fingers.
Jethro struggled with discipline?
Free reign?
Willing?
I wanted answers to all my questions, but I focused on the one I needed most. Twisting the truth a little, I asked, “Why do you say that about Jethro? He’s been nothing but freezing cold since we met.”
Mr. Hawk smiled. “Yes, he’s been doing well with that. I’m rather proud of him.”
My heart seized. What did that mean?
He added, “You seem to think these debts will be monstrous. Shall I put your mind at rest, so you may relax and enjoy our hospitality?”
There’s nothing you can say to make me relax while under your heinous roof.
“No. I’ll never enjoy anything you offer me.”
He scowled. “The First Debt will be the easiest. The simplest extraction of payment for something your ancestors did. The next will be slightly more taxing and so on and so forth, until all debts are accounted for.”
I know that, arsehole. Your son told me.
Smirking, he added, “The timeframe for each debt will be decided by Jethro and myself, depending on your acceptance of your new life. And rewards will be given when you fully cooperate.” Taking a sip of juice, he finished, “Don’t worry about your future; we have it completely under control.”
Ugh, I couldn’t stand his egotistical attitude. “You do realise none of this is legal. The Human Rights Act abolished selling people into slavery. You can’t keep me forever.”
Mr. Hawk went deathly still. “I see you’ve been researching while cooped up in your room.” Wiping his mouth, he muttered, “No amount of laws or rules will save you, Ms. Weaver. The debts between our two families trump all that.”
Only in your sick, twisted mind.
Changing the subject, I crossed my arms and snapped, “Jethro already told me how the debts would be laid out. Tell me something new.”
Mr. Hawk froze. “He did what?”
Oh, God. Jethro’s weakness around me was to my advantage. Why did I say that? Why tip off his tyrannical father to his son’s hidden softness?
Backtracking, I muttered, “He told me while dragging me back after hunting me down.” Holding up my scratched arms from tree branches, I hoped the evidence of being mistreated at Jethro's hands would mollify him. “He hunted me with the same dogs he made me sleep with. You should be proud of your son, sir. He’s a monster.”
A monster with a heart buried deep beneath that snow you make him embrace.
Mr. Hawk smiled coldly. “I’m rather surprised and impressed by his initiative. That wasn’t discussed, nor part of the planned activities, but perhaps I underestimated him.”
Standing, he threw his napkin from his lap onto the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m late to another meeting. I’m sure Jethro will come collect you.”
Bowing, as if I were the Lady of the Manor all set for a day of cross-stitch and sedate relaxation, he pressed his fingertips to his mouth and blew a gentle kiss. “Good day, Ms. Weaver.”
My ingrained manners almost repeated the polite parting; I bit my tongue.
Don’t you dare. He’s the devil, not some kind-hearted father figure.
Keeping my lips glued together, I remained silent.
Mr. Hawk passed my chair, stopping briefly to run his hand through my ponytail.
I shivered as the soft tug of his fingers whispered through the black strands.
“Such a pretty thing. I can see I’ll have to step up my lessons with my son to ensure you both behave.”
My heart lurched, speeding around my chest.
What the hell did that mean?
Staying stiff and unyielding, I didn’t mutter a sound as he tugged once on my ponytail, then disappeared from the room.
I was left alone in the cavernous space with the beady eyes of past Hawks watching my every move. The glittering chandeliers above twinkled with sunlight spilling in from leadlight windows.
Little rainbows danced across my knuckles, reminding me of the design that’d come to me when I stood naked and about to run for my life. Fractals from the diamond collar around my neck had inspired rather than repulsed.
That seemed like an age ago.
My old life had faded so fast; it seemed almost dreamlike. Had I really been heralded as the next star of London couture?
It seemed surreal and something I didn’t even crave. I hated the limelight. So how did I think I could walk headfirst into a career where I would forever have to sell myself in order to peddle my creations? I would no longer be holed up in a room full of calico and satin with assistants. I would be the face of Nila—my brand.
The show in Milan had taken every reserve I had. And that had been the first one.
I would never have survived.
Yet another part of my life where the Hawks had meddled and granted me a reprieve. I hated that they’d shown me a different way of existing—one I was better suited to than my own heritage.
The longer I sat there, the more my mind skipped from subject to subject. My fingers itched to text my brother and Kite, but bloody Jethro had my phone.
I have to get it back.
I didn’t know what I waited for. Someone to come and claim me? Jethro to ensnare me and cart me off to do whatever horrible things he planned next? But no one came to fetch me or demand I follow.
Staff, a mixture of men and women in smart black and white uniforms, entered the room to clear away breakfast.
They smiled kindly, going about their business as if life was normal. Completely fucking normal.
I deliberated staying in the dining room where it was moderately peaceful with the bustle of staff and gentle clinking of crockery, but I couldn’t look at the table without flushing and suffering a dreadfully unwanted spasm of lust at the memory of Jethro’s tongue.
My skin crawled to think that I found comfort in the very same room men had stripped me bare—not just my body, but my sanity, too—and delivered me into this new fate.
I have to leave.
Standing, I stumbled forward as the room went blank.
I groaned as I clutched frantically at the table, only just managing to stay on my feet as a heavy black wave of vertigo stole my vision and hijacked my limbs.
“Miss, are you okay?” a sweet maid asked. I couldn’t see her as my vision remained blocked.