Paying His Debt Page 6

  “I told you it would be a mockery to the family if you brought a pity date,” my father said, only further digging my date. “No matter how well she scrubs up. People will laugh at us if they think we bring young girls who are indebted to the family to public events. Even worse—they’ll assume you’re whoring them out. That’s a bad image to have, Jack.”

  Beside me, Freya was trembling. My father was talking about her like she wasn’t even there. I stood in front of her, as if standing between her and my father could somehow protect her.

  “You’re out of line, dad,” I muttered, aware of the fact we were drawing attention to ourselves. “Who I choose to accompany me is up to—Freya? Freya!”

  But Freya had run off, jumping into the first available cab she could find. Her brother stood there staring at me, furious.

  “She said you didn’t do anything to her.”

  “I—I didn’t! We only—”

  “So why was she in your debt, then?”

  “Jack, just what is going on with you lately?” my father chimed in.

  “Both of you just shut up!” I roared, not caring about the party or the people watching at all. “Dad, I don’t give a damn what you think about Freya but I do care about what you say to her. If you can’t be respectful to the woman I love then you can forget about me ever speaking to you again.”

  “Jack—”

  “And screw taking over the family business,” I continued, loosening my bow-tie before throwing it into my pocket. “I don’t want people to fear me. I don’t want to chase people up for money without caring how or why they ended up in that situation.” I glanced at Tate. “I love your sister. That’s all you need to know. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

  I ran off to the sounds of both men shouting after me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my brother appear, along with his wife and little Rafe. He seemed frightened to have seen me shout at his grandfather. But I could apologize later.

  For now I had someone even more important to apologize to.

  Chapter Eleven

  Freya

  I was so stupid. So stupid.

  How could I have thought it didn’t matter whether Jackson actually had feelings for me or not? Of course it did. As soon as he had what he wanted—my brother’s money—then that was that. The debt was paid.

  He had no use for me now.

  And the way his father talked about me, like I wasn’t really a person, like I wasn’t worth his trouble, told me everything I needed to know about the Patera family.

  Everyone out with their family business was expendable. Pawns. Tools. I had been a means to an end for Jackson. A way to amuse himself and get laid at the drop of a hat. I imagined him laughing with his brother about silly little Freya Grace, willing to do just about anything to pay off her brother’s debt.

  And here was me lying to my brother about Jackson just to save him some face. I wanted him to know that I cared about him—that I didn’t consider the time I spent with him to really be blackmail. That I’d loved every second I’d spent with him.

  I was such a fool. I should have told Tate everything.

  When I reached my apartment I wasted no time in pouring myself a very large glass of wine, finding an online music playlist that appropriately reflected my mood, then glowered in front of my mirror as I drank.

  I barely recognized my reflection. Had I really gotten so dressed up for a man who’d been blackmailing me? Was my increase in self-esteem so connected to Jackson Patera that it would crumble now that he was out of the picture?

  I hoped not. For though he’d been using me, the way I felt about myself while spending time with Jackson was something I didn’t want to lose. I wanted to continue trying to be more confident. Less timid. More opinionated.

  Less lonely.

  When someone began banging on my door I jumped in surprise. I checked my cell phone; Tate had messaged me asking if I was okay, but hadn’t mentioned that he was coming round. I walked through from my bedroom to the front door and simply stood by it, wondering if it could possibly be—

  “Freya, it’s me!”

  Oh. It was.

  Jackson.

  I didn’t know what to do; it was clear he wasn’t going to leave until I spoke to him, though I didn’t want to see him. So I opened the door by a few inches, glaring at the man whose family had interfered with mine and Tate’s life.

  Jackson seemed relieved. “Freya, let me in.”

  “Hell no. What do you want?”

  “I just want to talk to you. I just want to explain.”

  “Explain what?” I asked testily. “How I’m just a ‘pity date’, or a whore? How your father was ashamed of me, despite the fact I’ve never—never—done anything in my life to be ashamed about apart from getting swept away be you?!”

  “Freya—”

  “You know what? I don’t have to listen to this. You got your money from Tate. Just leave me alone.”

  “Freya, don’t—don’t close the door!”

  Just like the first time he’d shown up at my apartment, Jackson slammed his arm between the door and its frame, preventing me from closing it.

  “Why should I let you in?” I screamed, louder than I’d ever been before. “You have your money, and you’ve successfully humiliated me in public. What more could you possibly want?”

  Jackson shook his head as if in disbelief. As if to say, how could she not know by now? But I knew plenty. I knew how the world worked—including the seedy underworld part I’d never wanted to experience.

  “I want you, Freya!” Jackson insisted, edging his way a little further into my apartment.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Bull shit! You wanted me to be at your beck and call—to risk my job to give you a fucking blow job outdoors and be available to sleep with you when it fit into your schedule. That’s not wanting me. That’s just wanting my body.”

  “Just…” Jackson sighed. “Freya, let me in. Please. Just let me explain. I’ve wanted you ever since I first saw you working at the kindergarten a year ago.”

  What?

  It felt like it took an age, since my brain seemed to have stopped working. My arms were slack. I couldn’t think. Numbly moved away from the door to let Jackson in. He inclined his head in thanks, then perched atop the armrest of my ancient sofa.

  I stayed standing, glass of wine in hand.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, for the first time since Jackson showed up feeling a crack in my resolve.

  Jackson reached out for me but I stayed well away. His expression was pained, but then he sighed, and clasped his hands in his lap. He kept his brown eyes on me though, pleading for me to believe him.

  “The first time I saw you was during Rafe’s first week at kindergarten. I…was blown away. The way you bonded with him so quickly, and convinced him to join in with the other kids to play. He was so shy before—though nobody would ever realize that now.”

  He paused, looking out of the window for a moment before returning his gaze to me. “I fell for you immediately. You were so great with the kids but clearly didn’t enjoy speaking to the parents if you weren’t familiar with them. It was obvious you were scared of me and my brother, so I tried to find excuses to talk to you. ‘If only she’d speak to me once then she’d know I’m not a bad guy,’ I thought. But that only scared you further.”

  Jackson chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “You were so dense. So. Dense. I was checking you out all the time. Why else do you think my brother let me pick up his son so often? He knew I was mad about you.”

  I didn’t really know what to say. So Jackson Patera had a crush on me for a year. So what? He still blackmailed me.

  I put down my wine glass and crossed my arms. “You could have told Louisa or someone else I worked with that you liked me. I’d have believed them if they told me you merely wanted to talk because you were interested in me. Why is this the first time I’m hearing this?”

  Jackson shrugged emphatically. “I honestly don’t k
now. You were so shy, Freya. Would you really have let me talk to you if I’d passed on the message that I liked you through a third party? I somehow doubt it. You’d seen me come and go from the kindergarten for a year. I wasn’t a stranger, and yet still you avoided me.”

  “Because you’re a Patera! Your family are scary. And rude, and insulting, and—”

  “They’re not all like that,” Jackson cut in, grimacing. “Just my dad. He’s very much an old-fashioned gangster. But I’m not like that. You must know I’m not like that.”

  “You used my brother’s situation to force me to go out with you!” I exclaimed, appalled at his lie. “Tell me how that’s not ‘gangster’, Jackson. You could have asked me out. You could have done anything. But instead you used your family name and influence to make me do something I didn’t want to do.”

  “…didn’t you?”

  It was so quiet that I barely heard the words.

  Then Jackson spoke louder. “And I don’t mean that in any way to diminish what I did to you. It was despicable. I’m so sorry. I took advantage of a situation I should never have used for personal gain. But…Freya…you didn’t seem all that repulsed by the idea.”

  “Well, compared to prostitution it was significantly more desirable,” I quipped, rolling my eyes.

  “Freya—”

  “Look, I get what you’re saying. I was…interested in your proposition,” I admitted without looking at him. “I was a twenty-three your old virgin, after all. But…”

  “But?”

  I took a step or two towards Jackson. Did he really care for me, like he said? Had he been interested in me for so long? Was it really not a lie?

  “Jackson, I…really like you. All this time I was falling for you, not knowing if I was merely a plaything for you to pass the time. And then your father said all that at the party, and now you’re saying you liked me all along? Are you for real? Or are you trying to get out of owning up to your own asshole behavior by passing off the last two weeks as something genuine?”

  “I love you.”

  “You—what?”

  My eyes darted up to Jackson’s. He was staring at me intently; this time when he reached a hand out to take mine I didn’t recoil.

  “I love you, Freya Grace. I really do. I took you to my father’s ball tonight in the hopes that I might be able to convince you that my feelings were genuine. That I wanted to be seen at high-flying, expensive events with you. And…”

  “And?” I barely got out. My brain was hazy and frantic at the same time. Or maybe that was my heart. Was this really happening? Was Jackson Patera—the Jackson Patera—honestly confessing his love for me?

  He smiled a little sadly. “And I told my father I had no plans to take over the family business. I’m done with it all—the fact your brother was conned into spending all that money at one of casinos only solidified that fact. I can’t keep extorting and intimidating people all my life. I’m tired of it. All I want is to go to the beach with you—to stay in and eat Chinese spare ribs with you, to fall in the sea laughing with you, to act like an idiot on a jungle gym with you. I just want you, Freya.”

  My lips were on his before I could think straight. And I didn’t want to think straight. Jackson was telling the truth, and though it might have been a terrible idea to fall into bed with a gangster, I couldn’t bring myself to want anything else.

  “I want you, too, Jackson.”

  His eyes widened. “You do?”

  “Why else would I have avoided telling my brother you were extorting me?”

  He made a face. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

  “No, but I had to do it for me,” I replied, running a hand through Jackson’s hair to pull him in even closer to my lips. “I didn’t want to waste time explaining to Tate why it was perfectly okay that I’d fallen in love with Jackson Patera.”

  He chuckled. “A terrible choice in partners, all things considered.”

  I raised an eyebrow, sliding onto Jackson’s lap as I said, “I suppose only time will tell me that—”

  “Freya, are you okay? You didn’t answer your phone!”

  The two of us looked at the door, then burst into a fit of laughter.

  “Of course we’ve been interrupted,” Jackson remarked, before standing and picking me up to hold me close to his chest. “We’re always interrupted.”

  I kissed his nose. “Let’s not respond this time, then.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Jackson grinned, before carrying me through to my bedroom.

  For the first time in my life upon hearing someone knocking, I didn’t open the door.

  I didn’t feel in the least bit bad about it.

  THE END

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  Read on for a sample of Submission and the Billionaire

  Chapter One

  Cassie

  “Cassie, bring those papers right over to Mr. Sanderson for us if you can!”

  “Cassie, can you take this up to the fifth floor? Janine insists you’re the only one who actually knows what you’re talking about when you go over the reports with her.”

  “Cassie, are you staying in the office for lunch again? You’re going to waste away before my eyes!”

  I never thought I’d find myself working for a recruitment company at the age of nineteen, two weeks’ shy of my twentieth birthday. It certainly wasn’t the career aspiration that I’d had at five, or ten, or fifteen. Or, hell, even last month. But money was money and, unfortunately, this job paid it.

  College didn’t.

  I’d worked my ass off through high school to get into college. I’d saved up every last cent from my part time jobs—a nice, normal job at my local diner, and a decidedly not-so-nice one at a shady little bar where the manager definitely knew I was underage and simply didn’t care. So long as my dresses were low cut enough to reel in tips from the drunk old men who frequented the establishment he didn’t give a damn that I was only seventeen.

  But I put up with it, because going to college and obtaining a degree in the sciences was my dream. Organic chemistry, maybe. Or molecular biology. I hadn’t really defined my major yet when I excitedly started my first semester, but that was part of the appeal.

  And then my parents shattered everything.

  With one fell swoop of gambling debts every dollar I’d ever saved was spent. They didn’t even ask me before they used my money, and even then my savings barely scratched the surface of how much they owed.

  I didn’t want to drop out of college. Really, I didn’t. But with no savings and no way to afford another place to live, I had no choice but to leave after my first year, stay at home with the very people who were ruining my life, and get a job.

  So here I was, two weeks into an assistant floor manager position at Rush Recruitment that, providing my parents didn’t accrue more debt, would pay off everything they owed within a year…just so long as I never went out, bought new clothes, splashed out on expensive food, or basically had a life whatsoever.

  It’s just a year, Cassandra Davis. One year, and then you’re gone. One year, and then you’ll have paid your useless parents back for the terrible job they did raising you.

  One year never felt so long.

  Someone abruptly bumped into me, causing me to drop a stack of files I was carrying to the records room. The noise they made as they hit the floor caught everyone’s attention; I cringed despite the fact I’d technically done nothing wrong.

  Except drift off to think of better times when I’m back at college and not working like a slave for my parents.

  “Ah, sorry Cassie!” the person who bumped into me—I was fairly sure his name was John—exclaimed as he helped me pick up the scattered files.

  “It’s okay,” I smiled, reaching past him to find a file that had skittered under the table. When John stiffened I hated that I knew why.
>
  He was looking at my ass, or the way my boobs hung heavy from my chest as I stretched a little further to snatch the final file from the floor. I couldn’t help it that I was curvy—my mom was built the same way—but it made me self-conscious as hell. Anything a girl with a normal figure wore to look professional ended up making me look like I was auditioning for the part of a sexy secretary in a porno. Even wearing a nondescript black pencil dress didn’t hide my figure.

  When John realized I knew he was looking at me inappropriately he staggered to his feet, apologizing once more before rushing off. The way he hunched over himself told me he was definitely hiding a hard-on.

  It was funny; because of my old job at the dive bar I had no problem with such things. The guys there were awful, obnoxious perverts who made sexual passes at me most evenings. It didn’t faze me anymore; I was numb to it.

  I could almost laugh at the irony of it all. Cassie Davis, nineteen-year-old virgin who was already completely over sex. Clearly I’d hit my peak and missed it.

  “You missed a file…Cassie,” a low, unfamiliar voice murmured.

  I turned. The man standing in front of me wasn’t someone I recognized. He looked to be about ten years old than me, if I were to guess, with perfectly groomed brown hair and green eyes that I knew my ex-roommate from college would have melted over. I noticed some of the female employees pop their heads up from their desks to steal glances of him—clearly he was popular. He smiled broadly as he proffered the file he’d picked up, perfect teeth gleaming.

  Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he can’t be an asshole, I thought. God, my time in that stupid dive bar really had jaded me.

  “Thanks,” I said, hesitantly taking the file from him. “I haven’t seen you around before. How do you know my name?”

  “I was on holiday, but Fred Johnson told me we had a new girl in.”

  I bristled at being called a girl in the workplace, though I held my tongue. “So are you one of the floor managers?” I asked. He didn’t look like he worked on the phones.

  The man laughed. “You could say that. I’m Liam. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”