Chapter 11 Elodie
Elodie
Ihate coming here.
The street outside Marcus’ building is all cracked pavement, overflowing trash cans, and the sickly buzz of a dying neon sign across the road. It’s the kind of neighborhood people with choices don’t wander into after dark.
It’s barely seven but late enough to be wary.
The building itself looks decent with fresh paint, a clean glass door, and a polished brass plaque that just says Bellview Offices.
It looks like this is where you come to talk about tax returns and contracts, not debts that can get you killed. If you didn’t know better, you might think it was harmless.
But everyone with half a brain in this part of town knows better.
And if you don’t, the two bouncer-looking guys in black suits flanking the main door are a dead giveaway.
They know I’m here to see Marcus, so they let me through without question. I don’t even need to say anything.
I go through the door and climb the narrow stairwell, my heart pounding harder with every step. The overhead lights flicker, humming like they’re as nervous as I am.
Marcus—that asshole—never got back to me.
No message. No call. Nothing.
It’s scary enough to come here, but his silence made it so much harder. Skylar wanted to come with me, but I didn’t want them to see her face.
It was probably stupid. I knew I was being watched, and I’ve been at her apartment for the last few days. They would have definitely seen her.
I guess I just didn’t want her directly involved.
I promised to call her as soon as I’m out of here.
My only solace is having the money.
True to their word, the club deposited sixty thousand dollars in my account before I woke this morning.
Seeing all that money in my account was more than a burden lifted from my shoulders.
And of course, I thought of the man who made it possible.
Dorian.
I haven’t stopped thinking about him. Not even for a moment. My mind has been riddled with thoughts of him and that damn kiss.
Thinking about either of those things won’t do me any good, but I seem to be spiraling down a path to destruction. Why put the brakes on now?
I probably won’t see Dorian again.
The plan is to give Marcus fifty thousand dollars and keep ten in reserve. That would allow me to leave the coffeehouse. The coffeehouse was the only place I’d be likely to run into Dorian since I hardly go into the city. When I do, it’s for shopping. And even that’s rare.
Maybe not seeing him won’t be a bad thing.
He helped me, and he didn’t have to. Yes, he bought me, so there’s that, but someone else could have owned me, and I’m sure they wouldn’t have asked for a kiss.
So, I’ll take this experience as my goodbye. A parting gift.
He might not have helped my family in the past, but he helped me now when I needed it most.
I reach the third floor, where Marcus’ office is based, and pray to whoever is listening that this meeting goes well.
I know Marcus is here, or the men wouldn’t have let me in.
What mood will he be in?
And why in hell didn’t he get back to me?
I understand I missed the deadline. But in my messages, I made him aware that I’d be making up for it with a lump sum payment.
I’m hoping he will be open to reducing the monthly payments to something more manageable.
I turn the corner and see that his office door is open and the scar-faced man is standing in the doorway.
I almost stop but keep going, eager to get this over with.
He smiles when he sees me. “Evening, Miss Harper.”
I say nothing. I just walk past him into the office.
Marcus is standing by the window.
He’s a burly man with a thick tattooed neck, meaty shoulders stuffed into a leather jacket, and a jaw shadowed with permanent stubble. One look at him, and you know straightaway he’s not a businessman. He’s the debt collector who learned early that fear pays better than interest ever could.
The sight of him sends a shiver through me, but I find my strength.
Never look weak in front of these people. Never.
“Good evening, Marcus.” I commend myself for the firmness in my voice.
Marcus smiles. “To you, too, Elodie Harper.”
He has the same South Boston accent as the scar-faced man, but his is thicker.
“I apologize for the late payment,” I begin.
I hate apologizing for something I’ve already explained, but over the last twenty-four hours, my messages to him have been nothing but apology.
It should be enough, but doing it one more time won’t hurt.
You can’t stick to normal rules of society with people like this.
Marcus straightens and walks around his desk. He stops in front of it and lowers himself onto the edge.
“So, tell me, Miss Harper,” he says, folding his hands loosely, “just how much are you going to pay me tonight?”
I draw in a measured breath. “Fifty thousand.”
His eyes widen slightly. I take that to mean he’s surprised. That’s a good thing.
At least, it should be.
My optimism dies fast when his face hardens.
“Fifty thousand,” he repeats slowly, like he’s tasting the number. “That’s… impressive for a little schoolteacher.” His mouth curves, but it’s not a smile. “You must’ve worked very hard for that money.”
“I did,” I say quietly. “I was hoping we could talk about restructuring the monthly payments. I don’t think my friend is coming back, so this loan is left to me. I don’t want to fall behind again. I—”
He clicks his tongue, cutting me off. “See, that’s where you and I have a problem, sweetheart.”
“What sort of problem?” I bite down on my back teeth to keep them from chattering.
Marcus leans forward, forearms braced on his thighs, his gaze pinning me in place. The lazy friendliness drops from his face, and I finally see the man people whisper about.
“You’re talking like this is still the old agreement,” he mutters. “The one with cute little monthly installments and grace periods.” He tilts his head. “But you missed your deadline. You broke the terms.”
My fingers tighten around the strap of my bag. “I told you I’d be late. I told you I’d come today with as much as I could.”
“And I let you keep your life.” The mildness in his tone twists my insides. “That was me being generous.”
A cold knot forms in my stomach. “Marcus… this is fifty thousand dollars.”
“Yes.” His eyes flatten. “And now that you’re in default, that’s not a payment, Elodie. That’s a down payment.”
The floor tilts beneath my feet. “A… down payment on what?”
His smile returns, slow and shark-like. “On the full amount of the original two hundred thousand. I want the full balance all in one lump sum.”
For a second, I honestly think I mishear him.
“The… full amount?” My voice scrapes out of my throat. “But what about all the payments that were already made?”
“Written off as penalty payments.”
“But that’s not fair.” I can barely get the words out. “I’ve worked so hard to pay you back. This loan isn’t even mine to pay.”
“Sorry, doll, I’m the one who gets to decide fairness here. And I’m choosing not to do business with you anymore. Therefore, I want everything now.”
God, this can’t be happening. “Everything?”
He tilts his head, studying me like I’m exceptionally slow. “That’s what ‘one lump sum’ means, sweetheart.”
“But that wasn’t our agreement.” My fingers curl into my palms so hard my nails bite skin. “We agreed monthly payments. I’ve been paying monthly.”
“We had an agreement,” he corrects, voice going flat. “Then you were late. Twice. When you don’t show up when you’re supposed to, terms change.”
He taps the ledger with one thick finger, each tap a little gunshot in the quiet room. “Clock resets. Penalties stack.” He smiles again, all teeth.
“I can’t get that kind of money all at once. You know I can’t.”
“That sounds like a you problem.” Marcus sounds almost bored. “I’m telling you what I want.”
“Marcus, there’s no way—” My voice breaks on the last word.
He stands, and the door behind me shuts. Scarface gets closer, so the two men block me in.
Ice sluices through my veins, and I feel trapped again. I think fast about how I can get myself out of this.
“What if I can get you sixty thousand?”
Marcus leans in, strong cologne and stale cigar smoke rolling off him. “Take your phone out.”
“My phone?”
“You’re going to transfer sixty thousand into my account right now.”
With shaking hands, I take my phone out of my bag. I’m not even worried about looking weak anymore. I find my bank app, and within a minute, I have the money—all of it—wired to Marcus’ account, leaving me with the measly ten bucks I previously had.
I show him the screen displaying the transaction, and he nods, but the flinty look in his eyes tells me he’s just getting started.
“Now it’s time to show you what happens when you cross Marcus Reiner.”
His words barely register before his arm swings.
The back of his hand connects with my cheek in a crack that explodes inside my skull.
I scream.
White light bursts behind my eyes. Fire streaks across my face, sharp and blinding, and my head whips to the side so hard my neck screams.
The room shifts. My ears ring. For a heartbeat, I’m not sure where the floor is, then my knees give out and it rushes up to meet me. I hit the carpet on my hands first, then my hip, breath tearing out of my lungs as the sting in my cheek blooms into a throbbing, molten ache.
Scarface grabs me. Panic grips me, and I try to wriggle out of his grasp. But he’s too strong.
It takes nothing for him to pin me down.
“Please, no.” The plea shudders out of me before I can stop it.
While Marcus looms over me, Scarface gazes at me as if considering a selection of dessert.
“She said please. Why don’t you answer?” Marcus taunts.
Scarface lands a punch in the middle of my face, and I swear I black out for a few seconds. I feel like I’ve been shoved into a vacuum of pain, disconnected from my body yet still there.
“Now, here’s how this is gonna go.” Marcus plants a heavy boot on my stomach and glares down at me. “You have twenty-four hours to give me my money. Don’t even think about running. If you do, I will find you and kill you and your little friend you’ve been staying with… Skylar.”
Ice crawls through my veins at the sound of Skylar’s name.
“Please, no. Leave her out of this.”
His boot digs in, and air whooshes out of me in a broken gasp.
Marcus’ smile hardens into something deadly. “Then you better get creative, Elodie Harper. If I don’t have my money in twenty-four hours, you’ll see what happens when I really get angry. Get out of here.”
The instant Scarface loosens his hold on my arms, I scramble to my feet, then run out of the office, tears streaming down my cheeks. The sound of their taunting laughter follows me, but I keep going, fear driving me forward.
Blood drips from my nose and the top of my lip, and my eye is swelling. Swelling so big my vision blurs.
But still, I keep going.
I run straight outside, past the guards at the door and the people in the street, who cast curious glances at me.
I don’t stop until I reach my car.
Pain rips through my body, but I jump in and drive.
I need a hundred and forty thousand dollars by tomorrow night, or I’m dead.
And they know about Skylar.
Damn it, I got her in trouble, too. All because of Clara.
No… this is my fault.
I was the one who got myself into this mess when I made the mistake of trusting Clara.
Me.
Now look at the mess I’ve gotten myself into.
There’s only one thing I can think of to fix this—one person who can save me.
And it’s not Jack.
I take a sharp right and head to Vale Global.