The Deal

7. Chloe

Chapter 7

Chloe

“ I s that a new fashion accessory?” Belinda, who handles the reception desk, asks as I pass through the accounting firm’s foyer, heading for the exit. “Very chic.”

“Ha ha! Very funny,” I retort, rolling my eyes.

It’s been a long day, but nothing unusual for me. My mornings start early—3 am, to be precise—Monday through Friday.

I clean a block of offices ten minutes from here. My first shift ends at seven. When I still had my car, I could catch an hour of sleep before heading to job number two—my regular nine-to-five. But this morning, instead of resting, I had to kill time at the McDonald’s down the road, nursing a cup of coffee I couldn’t afford, just waiting it out.

I used their bathroom to change into my office attire when it was time and headed here.

Thankfully, Frank, the security guard at the building where I clean, let me stash the mop and broom behind the control room door. However, the bucket was too bulky, so I had to bring it with me. At least it will be easier to get on the crowded bus in the evenings without those two things.

“Seriously, though, what’s with the bucket?” she pries .

I pause before I reach the door and turn to face her. I want to tell her to mind her business, but I don’t. I may see this woman every day when I’m here, but she knows nothing about me or my personal life. I prefer to keep to myself.

“My car broke down over the weekend, and I have a cleaning job in the mornings before coming here.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” she says, wincing slightly. “That must be an early start for you then.”

“I had to leave home at two to catch a bus.”

“No wonder you always look so tired.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you … you’re beautiful, Chloe, which I’m sure you already know. I have noticed that you yawn an awful lot when you arrive, and by the end of the day, you always look like you’re dragging your feet.”

This time, I wince. “I do?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” I’m always tired, but I didn’t realise it showed.

“Since you’re young … and so pretty, I just thought you were burning the candles on both ends. Living the high life with your friends or some equally gorgeous man.”

I almost want to laugh at her misguided perception of me. “Hardly,” I scoff.

“That’s a shame. Your youth won’t last forever, sweetie … trust me, I know. Maybe stop worrying about working so much and live a little.”

I force out a polite smile as I nod my head, turn, and continue to the door. If only it were that easy.

My little powwow with Belinda made me miss my bus. I had to wait another thirty-five minutes for the next one. Her words weighed heavily on me all the way home.

I’m only twenty-seven years old, but some days, I feel like I’m fifty-seven. I don’t have a lot to show for my adult years. Just countless blisters on my feet and callused hands, and probably a stomach ulcer or two from the constant worry.

I haven’t travelled anywhere since my mum left us. I no longer have friends because I don’t have the time to invest in them. I’ve never been in a serious relationship, and last time I checked, my bank account balance was a measly five dollars and nineteen cents.

Maybe it’s time to let go of the one piece of treasure I own … a beautiful diamond necklace and earring set. They are a family heirloom passed down from my grandmother to my mother. They are exquisite, and I remember thinking she looked like royalty every time she wore them.

I found the large, blue velvet box hidden in the top drawer of my dresser a few days after my mother split. There was a small folded piece of paper inside that said:

You’ll always be my little princess. When you wear these, think of me. I love you, never forget that.

Always and forever, Mum xx

I held onto that note for a long time but eventually threw it away. As the years passed and our situation worsened, my love and longing for her eventually turned into despair and, dare I say, hate.

I’m unsure why I never sold the jewellery when times got tough. There have been a gazillion moments when I could have used the money they would have brought me .

It was the only security I had left, and I think a part of me is holding onto my past … a life I miss.

Back then, my biggest worries were what to wear from my extensive wardrobe and what shoes would go with a particular outfit. How things have changed. Those days seem like a lifetime ago now.

When I arrive home, I place the bucket of cleaning products on the front porch and walk around the side of the house to climb through my bedroom window.

Once inside, I kick off my heels, dump my handbag and backpack containing the clothes I wore to my cleaning job this morning and go in search of my dad.

I’d love nothing more than to slide under the sheets and get a few hours of sleep, but I have a load of laundry to do, and dinner won’t cook itself.

I pad down the hallway towards the main room. The house is eerily quiet, so I assume he’s having an afternoon nap in his favourite recliner chair. I scrimped and saved and bought it for him for Christmas. It was second-hand but in excellent condition.

He never fully recovered from the severe beating he got from those thugs. Seeing what has become of him breaks my heart, and I wish I could do more. He’s aged so much over the past few years, and it’s just another worry to add to my ever-growing list.

I peep my head around the corner—just in case he is asleep—and do a double take when I see he’s kneeling on the floor beside his chair. It’s an unusual sight since he now walks with a cane, but that is not what has my heart dropping into the pit of my stomach … it’s the gun that is trained at the side of his head.

Oh, Daddy, what have you gone and down now?

My father’s head is bowed. He looks so defeated, which has my heart constricting in my chest. He’s done something to warrant this—this isn’t my first rodeo—but I understand his addiction is an illness. He can’t help who he has become.

Neither he nor the suit-wearing thug with a gun have noticed me yet. I fall back behind the wall, shielding myself from their view. My mind is racing as I try to think of a plan.

Do I slink back to my room and call the cops? That could get messy. Or do I intervene before things get out of hand and try to strike another deal? How I’m going to afford that, I have no clue. I’m still paying off his last debt.

This man looks much more sophisticated than the last two who came here to collect money from my dad. Would he even consider a payment plan? Or will he cut his losses, put a bullet through both of our heads and call it a day?

That thought sends a shiver shooting down my spine.

Neither of us has a life … the only thing we have to live for is each other. I owe my father so much. He could’ve easily abandoned me like my mother did, but he never faltered despite how low he got. The roles may be reversed now, with me looking after him, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I square my shoulders and raise my chin as I step out from behind the wall.

“Who are you? And what are you doing in my house?” I say, with more bravado than I’m feeling on the inside.

My attention remains trained on my father’s assailant, and the moment his gaze snaps to me, and our eyes lock, all the air leaves my body.

It’s him.

My world seems to tilt on its axis as neither of us breaks our stare.

“Well, well, well,” he says, and that deep, sexy baritone voice of his has my skin pebbling with goose bumps. “We meet again, Miss Carmichael. ”

How does he know my name?

His dark eyes narrow slightly as if reading my mind. His following words only confirm it. “At least I’ll know your name when we part this time, Chloe.”

He can put that on my gravestone after he shoots me.

I remain speechless for a moment, trying to formulate a reply. “What do you want? And why are you pointing a gun at my dad’s head?”

“I had a nice little chat with your father in your absence. I’m guessing he neglected to tell you that he owes my family a lot of money?”

“Is that true, Daddy?”

“Princess,” he replies, his voice tight as he swallows. He doesn’t need to say anything else; I can hear it in the pitch. “You promised me you would change … that we wouldn’t have to go through this again.”

“I’m sorry,” is his only reply as his gaze moves back to the floor.

The shame is radiating off him, and as upset as I am that he’s just made our lives incredibly harder, I can’t help but feel sorry for him.

I will back my tears as my eyes flicker back to the gun-wielding douchebag. I can’t believe I slept with him.

“How much?” I ask.

“Gathering by”—his hand holding the gun moves around the space as he speaks—“this squalor you call a home, I doubt you could afford to repay even a fraction of what he owes.”

His words have me gasping. “Squalor!” I screech. “How dare you!”

Yes, this house is a dump and probably needs to be condemned, but I take offence to his words. Our furniture may be mismatched and minimal, but I keep the inside clean and tidy .

“I’m just calling it how I see it, Tesoro .”

How dare he. My hands move to my hips. “I am not your sweetheart, and I swear on everything holy, if you weren’t holding a gun to my father’s head right now, you’d have no teeth left in that filthy, smug mouth of yours.”

I hear somebody laugh from the other side of the room, and when I turn my head, I see another suit-clad twat, casually lounging back on the sofa with his arms folded behind his head and an ankle resting on his knee.

Shit, there are two of them.

I mildly entertained the idea of overpowering him if I got the chance. That’s not going to happen if he’s got backup.

“Antonio,” the dick snaps. “Go wait in the car.”

“Fuck,” the other guy mumbles under his breath as he stands and straightens his suit jacket. “Things were just starting to get interesting.”

I glance out the window and see the black limousine parked across the road and a few houses down. I didn’t even notice that when I got home. My suspicions would’ve been instantly aroused if I did.

This isn’t the type of neighbourhood where you find fancy cars. Unless they are stolen, of course.

“Now!” he bellows. And his sudden, unexpected outburst makes me flinch.

I can tell by the authority in his voice and the way twat number two jumps into action by doing as he’s told, that I’m left dealing with the ringmaster of this circus. It doesn’t stop him from giving me a cheeky wink as he passes, though.

Once the three of us are alone, he lowers his gun and turns his attention back to me.

“As I was saying earlier … your father and I have had a nice little chat, and since it’s obvious that you don’t have the means to repay his debt, I’m prepared to make a deal. ”

If he insults my home again, I will remove my high heel and ram the spiky bit in his eyeball. I wiggle my toes in preparation, only to realise I’m barefoot. Damn it.

I decide to lead with sarcasm instead. “How kind of you,” I quip.

“If you value your father’s life” he retorts, scowling, “I’d lose that attitude quicksmart. I’m not known for my patience.”

“Or your humility, I gather.” This time, I catch the faintest lift at the corners of his mouth. “How much is the debt?”

“Over half a million.”

I gasp. “Dollars?” I screech.

“Yes, dollars.”

“Daddy, how could you?” He blows out a long breath, but I get no explanation. My eyes dart back to our captor. “Who in their right mind would even lend someone that kind of money without collateral? He has nothing to offer you.”

“His collateral was his life. He knew that going in.”

“He’s right, I did,” my father adds.

I shake my head in disbelief. He’s done some stupid things over the years, but this would hands down be his worst.

“I’m gathering you don’t have that kind of money lying around, do you?”

The jewels.

“Actually,” I say, holding up a finger. “Hold that thought.”

When I turn to leave the room, he’s hot on my heels. “Where are you going?”

“I have to get something.”

“What?” he asks. He’s so close I can feel his warm breath skate across my skin.

Is he leaving my dad alone in the front room? I roll my lips to hide my smile—such an amateur move.

If I stall long enough, hopefully, my father will have the sense to make his escape. It’s not like he can run, but he may have enough time to leave the house and go to one of the neighbours.

Scurrying down the hallway towards my bedroom, I notice the back door is still ajar. That’s obviously how they got in since the front door wasn’t an option.

If my dad weren’t so maimed by his injuries, I’d get him to climb through the window like I do, so I could permanently nail that door closed as well.

When I enter my bedroom, I pause in the centre. Like the rest of the house, it’s nothing flashy, but I’ve made it my own over time. It holds no resemblance to the princess room I had when I was younger. My walk-in wardrobe was more expansive than this entire space.

It’s not the wealth or grandeur of my old life that I miss. The real measure of wealth is what you have left once it’s all gone, which, for me, is my dad. That’s if he doesn’t end up with a bullet in his head by the time the day is through.

That thought has me glancing over my shoulder and narrowing my eyes. Our captor is standing in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space and casting a shadow that makes the room feel smaller.

I don’t want him in here. This is my sanctuary, the place where I can hide away from the world and just be me for a moment. But if I want to give my father enough time to escape, I don’t have a choice.

“Is this where you sleep?” he asks. It’s just a simple question, and thankfully—for his sake—I don’t detect any judgement in his voice.

“Yes. Don’t get any ideas, hotshot. I’m not looking for a redo. I’ve been there and done that, and it was nothing to write home about. Besides, I don’t sleep with gun-toting thugs.”

He barks out a laugh. “Your first sentence contradicts the second since we’ve already been together.”

“Which is something I’ll forever regret,” I retort.

“Liar,” he says as his lips thin.

“It’s the truth,” I reply, raising my chin slightly. “Fortunately, it was pretty … forgettable, so it’s not something I’ll be reminded of moving forward.”

His smug grin is back, and I’m tempted to slap it right off his handsome face, but I don’t want to push my luck. He’s got some nerve.

“There was nothing forgettable about the time we shared, Chloe,” he growls. “Or the multitude of orgasms I gave you.”

I hate that I like how my name sounds when it passes his lips.

I lift one shoulder, feigning indifference. “I faked them … every single one,” I lie. What I’m really doing is stalling. I can’t tell if my father has slipped past yet because this guy’s hulk of a body is blocking my line of sight.

“Get what you need,” he snaps. “I have places to be and things to do.”

“Oh, so we’re not the only people you plan on popping off today? Are you on a killing spree? I never picked you for a mass murderer.”

His brown eyes darken further—if that’s even possible. He takes a step towards me, and those pesky little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. When he raises the gun in his hand, my breath hitches in the back of my throat. Shit. I’ve pushed him too far.

“One,” he breathes, and my eyes widen. By the time he says, “Two,” I’ve already sprung into action and dragged my bed away from the wall .

Falling to my knees, I slide the boxes I strategically placed there, in an attempt to hide this spot from my father, out of the way. I never told him about the jewels my mother left for me. It would’ve been a temptation too great if he’d known of their existence. Having these always gave me some comfort.

Things have been pretty dire for a while, but I’ve always managed to scrape by one way or another. Now, I feel sick to my stomach, knowing I’m about to lose my safety net … my last link to my past.

When I lift the loose floorboard, my heart sinks. The blue velvet box is gone. I swear I feel all the blood drain from my face as I turn my head and glance up at my captor.

“It’s not here,” I whisper.

“What’s not there?” he asks.

“The jewels.” I hate that my voice cracks when I say that. I don’t like showing weaknesses … especially to someone like him. “They’re gone.”

“You think I’m stupid enough to believe you had jewels hidden away when you live a life of poverty?”

“I haven’t always been dirt-poor, arsehole. I once lived a life as opulent as the one you do.”

“I highly doubt that. Now get up,” he sneers, leaning down to wrap his hand around my forearm, yanking me to my feet. His grip is tight but not enough to leave a mark. “You’ve wasted enough of my time.”

“You took them, didn’t you?”

“Your make-believe jewels? I’m many things, Tesoro , but I’m no thief.”

My eyes lock with his. “You’re a despicable human being is what you are. I can’t believe I let you put your dick in me.”

“You and I both know you loved it,” he says as he tugs me out of the room .

“I hated every second of it … I hate you!”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You weren’t this mouthy the other night. Maybe I should stick my dick between your lips to shut you up.”

“You’re a pig.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Your mother must be so proud.”

“My mother is dead,” he deadpans.

Before I can formulate a reply, we reach the front room, and he gives me a slight shove in the direction of my father as he lets me go.

Arsehole.

I focus my attention on my dad—the damn fool—who is still in the same position we left him in. I just gave him the perfect opportunity to get the hell out of here, and I can’t believe he didn’t take it.

“Did you take my jewels?” I ask, my stupid voice cracking again. I’m pretty sure I already know the answer, but I need to ask it nonetheless.

“I’m sorry, Chloe-bear.”

“How could you?”

“I’m a sick man …”

“You have done some pretty shitty things in the past, but this …”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me. I deserve that … for this and everything I’ve put you through over the years.”

When he covers his face with his hands and begins to weep, it breaks my heart. He lost way more than I did when my mother left. He lost the love of his life, his career … his dignity.

I kneel in front of him, and when I see the tears cascading down his cheeks, the ones I’ve been struggling to hold back rise to the surface. “I don’t hate you, Dad. ”

“You should.”

“You’re my father; unlike her , you never abandoned me when you so easily could have.”

“You needed me.”

“Until I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry for being such a fuck up.”

“You struggled to cope after Mum took off. I get it. But those jewels were all we had left.”

“In a way, you lost both parents when your mother left. I should’ve been the one to take care of you, not the other way around. I’m sorry I couldn’t be that person for you.”

I reach for his aging hand and fold it in mine. I’m so angry at him, but now is not the time for tough love. “Don’t apologise. It’s not necessary. I just did what needed to be done.”

“You deserved so much better than what you got.”

“I had you, Daddy. That’s all I needed. All I’ll ever need.”

“Chloe,” he says, squeezing my hand. “I’m going to take the deal.”

I look at him, confused. “What deal?”

“Your father and I came to an agreement before you got here.”

“What kind of agreement?”

“His life spared in exchange for you.”

“You’re going to kill me instead?”

“No, I’m taking you. You will be collateral for his debt.”

“Taking me where?”

“Home.”

“This is my home … I’m not going anywhere with you,” I shriek.

“Have it your way then.” He raises his hand and pushes the gun into the side of my father’s head.

“What?” I screech, jumping to my feet. “No! ”

I reach for the gun, but his free hand captures my arm before making contact. “It’s your choice, Chloe. You either agree to come with me willingly, or you’ll be forced to watch me put a bullet between your father’s eyes.”

“You’ll never get away with this.”

“I’ve gotten away with worse.”

“Why does that not surprise me.”

“You’ll have the life you deserve with Alexander … the one I couldn’t give you,” my father chimes in.

His name is Alexander.

“How can you even say that, Daddy? This man is a thug. He’s willing to put a bullet in you.”

“It’s nothing I don’t deserve.”

“Can’t we work something else out?” I plead, locking eyes with Alexander. “A payment plan … anything.”

“I don’t want your money, Chloe.”

“What do you want then?” I ask hesitantly.

“You.”

I gulp air into my lungs, faltering at his response. The heat in his eyes is reminiscent of how he looked at me the night we hooked up, but I push aside the shiver that prickles my skin and refocus on my dad.

“I don’t want to go with him … or leave you. How will you survive without me?”

“The way I see it, you don’t have a choice,” Alexander grumbles.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” I snap.

“Do you want your father’s blood on your hands?”

“You are the one with the gun who is threatening lives, so I hardly see how the blood will be on my hands.”

“You’ll be just as much at fault as I will if you choose the alternative.”

“How did you come to that conclusion, Einstein?”

“Because only you have the power to stop this. ”

“Don’t worry about me, princess,” my father says, reaching for my hand and giving it a light squeeze. “Take the deal; I’ll be fine.”

My father is a stubborn man—it’s where I get that trait from—so I already know there’s no changing his mind. My fate is sealed, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

I either leave with the devil himself or seal my father’s fate. There’s no way I’m going to agree to the latter. I couldn’t live with myself if I did. My dad may have messed with the wrong type of people, but losing his life over money, no matter what the amount, is extreme. It’s mob mentality.

Accepting there is no way out of this, I square my shoulders and swipe the back of my hand across my face.

“I still don’t hate you, Daddy,” I say, shaking my hand from his grip and retreating a step, followed closely by another. “I am disappointed in you, though, because you just became the person you swore you’d never be.”