Chapter Nila
Nila
I FOUND TEX in the lounge, nursing a brandy and looking as if he hadn’t showered in days. He didn’t look up as I perched on the arm of his favourite chair.
Something had changed between us. We no longer had a close bond—it was taut, strained—full of accusations and denials.
I missed him.
I feared for him.
But I didn’t have the strength to bring up what I truly wanted to know. So, I sat there, rubbing his forearm with my tattooed fingertips, hoping he knew that I forgave him. He might be my elder, but he wasn’t faultless. He needed to let his guilt go before it killed him.
Without looking into my eyes, he spoke. His voice was cracked and brittle, his brandy glass long since dry.
“She told me to hide you.”
I knew instantly he spoke of my mother.
“I had plans. I’d booked flights for all of us. I had a whole new life arranged in America. There was no way I was going to let those bastards have two of my girls. I would’ve died to protect you, Threads. You have to believe me.”
My father’s head bowed as the weight of wrong decisions pushed him deeper into his chair.
“The night before we were due to leave, I had a visitor. He showed me...things—” He swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to remember.
“He made me believe that no matter where I took you, no matter how well I hid you, they would find you. And if they did, the debts would be twice the repayment. Twice the pain. He made me a promise that if I let his firstborn take you easily, that you would be given a good life. A life that might go on for years.”
A tear rolled down his cheek. He clutched my hand so hard blood ceased to flow. “By God, I believed him, Nila. He had too much...too many things to prove he spoke the truth. I couldn’t refuse. I couldn’t subject you to that. The things they’ve done—”
Taking a deep breath, he stuttered, “So I cancelled our new life and remained, knowing that one day you would be taken from me.” A horrible sob escaped him.
“I’m so sorry, little one. I only did what I hoped was right.
I chose the lesser evil, do you see? I chose the one with a longer timeframe so I could get you free. ”
He looked up, his black eyes watering and bloodshot. “I couldn’t save your mother, but I’m going to save you. I will. I swear it.”
His confession wrenched silent tears of my own. I kissed the top of his head, granting absolution. “I trust you, Dad.”
He collapsed in on himself. I didn’t have the strength to ask him what I desperately wanted to know.
Where did he think my mother was buried all this time?
And what did Cut show him to leave his wife in the hands of monsters?
“Miss?”
The dream shattered.
Not that it was a dream, but a memory. The one time Tex spoke honestly while I’d been back home. He’d then wiped it from his history by drinking so much, he didn’t remember the next morning.
“You awake, Miss?”
I stretched, wincing at the crick in my spine. “Yes. Yes, I’m awake.”
How long did I nap for?
My phone rested on the floor and a damp patch where I’d drooled on the silk loveseat hinted at a while.
I shivered, rubbing my arms to ward off the chill. The archaic central heating in this place was intermittent at best. Scrambling to my feet, I eyed up the marble fireplace. Cold ash and black soot looked back. I’d set it last night, but I sucked at making a decent heat-delivering flame.
Picking up my phone, I checked the inbox.
Nothing.
I’d hoped after my message, Jethro would’ve replied or at least come to see me. I needed him again. I needed him every damn day. The lust in my blood never ceased.
The maid bustled about, picking up scraps of material and tossing them into the wicker basket where my cut-offs ended up. “You have an hour, Miss. Time to get ready.”
“An hour?” I rubbed my eyes, chasing off the cloudiness from my nap. “For what?”
The maid with her brown ponytail and pink lips never stopped tidying. “Wasn’t told. I only know you have to get ready.”
My heart unfurled. Could it be Jethro’s way of asking me to prepare for a long overdue conversation?
Could he be taking me on the date he promised the night of the Second Debt?
I hugged myself at the thought. Finally. After weeks apart, we could finally connect and be true. Like we should’ve done at the start.
He’d admitted we were on the same team, yet he’d avoided me ever since.
Teams have to stick together, Kite.
He’d been raised with siblings but always so alone. However, he wasn’t alone any longer.
He has me.
“Tell, Mr. Hawk, I won’t need an hour.”
Without waiting for her reply, I charged into the bathroom.
* * * * *
Fifty-one minutes later, I stepped from the misty steam back into my bedroom.
I’d never been so diligent in my appearance before. I’d used the expensive soaps and lotions stocked in the bathroom. I’d showered, shaved—ensured my legs were silky smooth, and the hair between my legs manicured into a perfect strip hiding just a little but not a lot.
I wanted to be perfect for him.
I fully intended to seduce him and force Jethro to admit who he was, what it meant, and to finally accept that I wanted him—faceted flaws and all.
To ensure I looked the best I could, I’d straightened my glossy hair and shaded my eyes with a mixture of blacks and pewters. My lips however were left virginally pink with just a swipe of clear lip balm.
I wanted Jethro to drop to his knees the moment he saw me. I wanted him panting and so rock-hard, he forgot to be gentle and slammed me against the wall in his rush to take.
I was already wet imagining everything we’d do.
The maid had disappeared, leaving me free to strut around naked if I wished. Instead, I clutched a towel around me and made my way to the imposing carved wardrobe. Swinging open the doors, I inspected my choices.
I’d made a few dresses while here, but nothing screamed first date with the man I would spend the rest of my life with.
However long that might be.
A tentative knock came.
“Come in.” I tightened my knotted towel, deciding on a fuchsia pink wraparound dress that would set off my tanned skin.
“Ah, Miss. You don’t need to choose. Your outfit has been arranged.”
I spun around. Jethro picked out a dress for me?
I tripped a little bit more in love. “Really?”
Keeping her eyes downcast, the maid came toward me holding a large zipped clothing bag. “This is the chosen outfit.”
My heart did an excited two-step, dying to see what Jethro had chosen. It was romantic. Sweet, in a way. And also telling of his preferences—a glimpse into his inner desires. I shadowed her as she placed the garment on my bed and unzipped it.
“Once dressed, your presence is required in the gaming hall.”
I can’t see.
I moved around her, eagerness making me rude. She hadn’t pushed aside the bag, still hiding the contents. I reached to move it, but she said, “Did you hear me? You’re to go to the gaming hall.”
My heartbeat switched to a sombre thud-thud. Jethro wanted our first date on Hawksridge land? Surely, there were more enjoyable places than a stuffy cigar-fumigated den?
“Did he say why?”
She shook her head. “No, sorry.”
And why would he? Jethro was kind and gentle beneath layers of complexities, but he was still a rich, powerful man, and she was but a lowly servant. Such things wouldn’t be shared.
“You’re running out of time. I was told to help you dress.” Frowning a little, she pushed aside the bag and withdrew a simple cheesecloth shirt and...breaches.
The sombre thud-thud turned to a more panicky drum. My eyes swooped up to hers. “He said I had to wear this?”
Is Jethro into weird kink that completely escaped my notice? Whenever we slept together, I got a feeling that missionary and the more conventional methods weren’t entirely his taste. He held something back—but this?
What on earth is erotic about breaches?
She shook her head. “Nothing, ma’am. All I know is I’m supposed to help you dress and get you there within the hour.” She reached for my towel.
I backpedalled. “No...that won’t be necessary. I can dress myself.”
Please...
A silent beg began in my soul, gathering volume with every breath.
Please...
The beg became a prayer, tiptoeing through awful conclusions.
Please don’t let this be what I think it is...
The maid nodded. “Okay. I’ll just wait outside.” She headed for the door, but turned around. “Oh, I almost forgot. There were two instructions. No bra or knickers and tie your hair up.”
Oh, my God.
My heart slammed to a stop.
Please. Please, don’t let this be...
My beg was no longer a scared prayer but a raucous in every limb.
“Why?” I choked, suffocating on knowledge.
The maid shrugged. “Again, Miss. I wasn’t told. But they do expect your presence quickly so...” She nodded at the items. “Best to hurry.”
She stepped from the room, shutting the door behind her.
They.
Not him.
They.
The pain came from nowhere. A crippling ripping tearing deep inside. It felt as if my body tried to evict my soul—every cell shredding with agony. A silent scream billowed, succumbing to the horrific knowledge, battering me with violence—almost as if I could commit suicide just from fear.
Run, Nila.
Climb out the window and run.
I folded in half, clutching my heaving midriff.
Vertigo swooped like bats of hell, flapping in my hair and screeching in my ears.
I toppled to my knees, not stopping my cantilevered descent until my forehead touched the carpet.
I stayed that way—with my arms locked around me in a useless embrace and my head at the foot of some deity who refused to save me.
It might not be what you think.
It might not be the Third Debt.
A sob crawled up my throat.
Lying to another was doable. Lying to myself was impossible.
Trembling, I sat up and grabbed the clothes from the bed. They slid from the sheets, scattering on the floor. The material was scratchy, rudimentary.
The urge to bolt grew ever more incessant.
Don’t let them do this.