Debt Inheritance
Page 21

Mr. Hawk shook his head. “That son of mine hasn’t explained anything has he.” Twisting in the seat, he glanced at Jethro. “What exactly have you been doing? You know information is what grants us control. We’re the ones in the right. How can she hope to accept her situation if you keep her in the dark?”
Jethro clenched his jaw but remained silent.
Rolling his eyes, Mr. Hawk faced me again and smiled. “I’ll give you a brief history lesson, then you must begin your duties.” Reaching up, he tugged the maid’s cap on my head.
Every inch of me crawled, but I didn’t move away. I was hungry for knowledge. Starving to know just how they continued to control my family with no fear of police interference or retribution.
Mr. Hawk reclined, his thumb drawing small circles on my upper thigh. “It all began with one man, who you’ll find out about in a little bit. He had children, gracing them all with the Weaver name. Now, from that day on, the power of the family name travelled with the firstborn girl. No matter if she married, divorced, or suddenly wanted to change her name to something whimsical, she wasn’t permitted. Whoever she married, it was a condition that the man change his name so that their offspring always bore the Weaver name and continued the line of succession of the debt.”
Why did they do it? Why keep a name that only brought misery? My mind hurt trying to understand the Hawk’s power.
“You, I believe, are the seventh woman to be taken. And the claiming can happen anywhere between the ages of eighteen and twenty-six.”
“You have rules on ruining someone’s life?”
His forehead furrowed. “What do you think we’re doing, Nila? Everything we’re doing is following a strict set of rules—laid out in utmost simplicity and must be followed.”
“If you’re following rules, then follow the rules of today’s society. You think I accept what you’re telling me? That all of this is legal?” I spat the last word. “You think its common place to threaten my family, steal me away, and imprison me with a collar of diamonds that won’t come off until I die? You’re completely insane. And wrong. And—”
“No one—especially a Weaver—has the right to speak to me like that.” Mr. Hawk’s fingernails bit into my thigh. “What part are you not understanding, girl? We haven’t threatened your family—they are under observeillance to ensure their best behaviour. We didn’t steal you away—you came voluntarily, remember? And as for the collar—you should be proud to wear it. It’s the most treasured piece in the Hawks antiquities.”
I bit my lip as his fingernails pierced harder.
His voice dropped the scholarly softness, sliding into strictness. “I see you need more concrete evidence. Fine. The diamonds you wear are worth millions. The diamonds we’ve sourced have been used to trade, buy services, bribe officials, own prime ministers, even control diplomats and royalty. No one is above the allure of a flawless diamond, Ms. Weaver. Everyone has a price. Lucky for us, we can afford any price.”
His tone sharpened. “Does that answer your rude question?”
What response could I give? There was nothing I could say or do to ignore my entire situation. They might have some misplaced belief that they were in the right—but that didn’t matter. Because they owned the very people I would need to save me.
My shoulders dipped; I sighed.
Mr. Hawk grinned. “Glad you’re coming to your senses, girl. Don’t under estimate us, Nila Weaver. We’ve had the law on our side for hundreds of years. We still have the law on our side and that won’t change. You are nothing more than a single woman who left the world’s spotlight because she fell in love. You are already consumed and forgotten.”
His fingernails stopped slicing my leg; he patted me gently. “I apologise that my son didn’t inform you of this. It’s his job to be implicitly open with you. To ensure you accept your new standing quickly.” He threw a glare at Jethro behind us.
Jethro locked his jaw, his eyes unreadable.
Mr. Hawk bounced me on his knee. “Now, no more questions. Serve my Diamond brothers and earn your right to more information.”
My heart shot up my throat. “Serve them how?”
Mr. Hawk shook his head. “Ah, I just told you, no more questions. I have no doubt Jethro would’ve been rather firm on that instruction. Silence is the key to pleasing us.” He pinched my lips together. “Don’t say a word until we permit it, and you’ll be rewarded.”
I’m to be a blow-up doll with no voice or soul?
Looking down, I fought against the urge to tear my face from his grip.
He didn’t let me go. And I couldn’t keep fighting the urge. So I did the only thing I could. Slowly, I nodded, losing another battle against the trickling tears cascading silently down my cheeks. They continued their unhindered sad journey down my neck, through the collar, to my naked nipples below.
The sun glinted through the window, blinding me for a second on the diamond pin in Jethro’s shirt. His eyes were tight and narrowed, glaring at the room of leather-jacketed men; his face resolute and frozen.
Freeing me, Mr. Hawk ordered, “Lean forward, and retrieve the first bit of parchment.”
I sat unmoving. I didn’t want to wriggle on his lap. I didn’t want to give any reason for things to grow or hands to grope.
Jethro lashed out from behind, catching me by surprise. He didn’t hit me, but grabbed my diamond collar and snapped a leash to the back. Tugging the restraint, he muttered, “Lesson one. You’ll do as your told the second you’re told it. Otherwise, you’ll choke until you do.”
He moved to the back of the chair, leaving my line of sight. The moment he was gone, the pressure on the collar increased, digging into my larynx, cutting off my air supply.
Just let him strangle you.
It would be easier.
But as my body crushed against Mr. Hawk from the pressure, and the natural instinct to fight took over, I knew I couldn’t be so weak. There was no point in being stupid. If I was plane-wrecked in a jungle, I would obey the law of the wild—doing absolutely anything to survive.
Wasn’t this the same thing?
I was in a den of beasts and they were trying to help me by teaching me their law. If I obeyed, I would live. Entirely simple. Stupidly simple.
No sound, Nila. Not one word. Switch off. Retreat into that spot inside and get through this.
I could do it by adapting, by learning. I refused to be hurt for punishments I could avoid.
Jethro sensed my acquiescence at the same time as his father. I didn't know what gave me away—the slouching of my shoulders, the soft puff of sadness? Regardless, they knew I wouldn’t fight. They’d won.
Jethro released the pressure on my throat, removing the leash and dangling it over the back of the chair as he moved back to his position. Mr. Hawk angled my face, pressing a wet kiss on my cheek. “Good girl. You’re learning.”
I didn’t even flinch. I was as cold as his son.
Embrace it.
Locking eyes with Jethro, I kept myself anchored while his father’s hand slipped inside the stupid pinafore and found my breast.
Jethro gritted his teeth, but never stopped glaring into my blank gaze.
I tensed, willing every molecule to stay frigid and unattached. There was freedom in drifting—as I’d learned in the kennel—and I let my mind go.
I would be Jethro and remain stone cold on the outside. But inside I would be Kite and cut the strings of my soul—soaring where they’d never touch me.
No matter what they did.
My head bowed as Mr. Hawk pressed up, grinding a hard cock against my naked arse. “Read the parchment.”
My hair fell in a thick black curtain, obscuring half of the men who watched with eager eyes. They weren’t panting, but they reminded me of hungry dogs just waiting for permission to attack and kill.
My hands didn’t shake as I reached for the parchment. I lowered my eyes to read. I was silently amazed at how collected and aloof I seemed. Shocked that I’d so easily turned off. What did that say about me? I’d just learned about my mother. Spent the night with a pack of dogs. Am I really that adaptable? Or was shock to blame?
The parchment used to be whole—it was age-stained, blood-marked, and torn. Glancing upright, I noticed the remaining pieces scattered around the table. A treasure hunt to read what would be my sentence.
Not every man had a piece, but at a quick count, I guessed four to five shards of secret-tarnished paper were out there, waiting for me to read.
Looking back to the parchment in my hands, my eyes landed on the crest I’d grown fast to recognise of hawks, women, and diamonds. It took pride of place at the top of the letter with intricate calligraphy and penmanship.
Taking a deep breath, I read.
On this date, the eighteenth day, of the eighth month, of the year of our Lord sixteen-seventy-two, we hereby convene to settle the unsightly claims and forthwith family disruptions between Percy Weaver and Bennett Hawk.
We call upon the royal sovereignty to grace this binding agreement upon the two houses, to put aside flagitious slander, and immoral actions, and settle this as gentlemen.
As esquire over this binding estate, I have mention Percy Weaver and family, including church-sanctified marriage to Mary Weaver, and his thrice offspring of two boys and one girl are also governed by the degree found today, or they shall hang by the neck until dead for heinous crimes found unjustifiable by the court of England so help me God.
It ended.
I stopped reading but didn’t move. Not a breath. Not a fidget. It was true then. My family had done something to justify all of this.
But what could be so awful to earn a contract spanning generations of repayments?
Mr. Hawk bounced me again, tweaking my nipple. “Finished?”
My heart neither fluttered nor sank. I was flying free—escaped from this unfolding nightmare.
“Intrigued? Want to know the rest?” His fingers twisted harder, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was finding out more.
Ignoring his touch, I breathed for the first time and nodded. As much as I didn’t want to get close to the other men with sin and greed glowing in their eyes, curiosity burned. I was desperate to read more torn pages and solve the mystery of my lineage.
Why did father never say anything? Why did he raise me to think we were good people?
That question would probably never be answered.
Mr. Hawk placed his hands on my hips, hoisting me from his lap. I stood with my eyes cast downward. Silent and waiting.
He smiled in encouragement. “Behaving well so far. Let’s see if you can keep it up.” Waving toward the overladen sideboard full of hors d'oeuvres, fish dishes, meat dishes, roast vegetables, and desserts, he said, “You’re our waitress for this little get together. Please be so kind as to serve our meal. You’ll receive a token of thanks from each of the Black Diamond brothers and earn the right to finish your reading.”
My legs moved before my brain registered. The primal part of me taking over to jump to the task. I might be a naïve woman who didn’t know how to jerk a man off, but I was a businesswoman at heart. I’d been around strict shop buyers, ditzy models, and sulking catalogue owners. I’d learned how to adapt and sell my work.
This was no different.
I had to adapt and sell myself.
Make him care. Make him feel.
My eyes flew to Jethro. Was it possible? Could I break his ice and find a man deep inside—a man who I could seduce, beguile, and ultimately use to stay alive?
Am I that strong?
Mr. Hawk tapped my behind as I skirted the back of his chair. Jethro didn’t move back, granting a small space for me to pass.
I hunched into myself, preparing for whatever cruelty he had planned.
His body twitched. The perfect lines of muscle and masculinity once again making me despise his natural beauty. An unwilling rush shot through my system at the memory of him touching me, fingering me.
He’d wanted me in that moment and it had nothing to do with debts or pain. It’d been pleasurable, confusing, and awkward but…maybe there was something I could work with.
The idea to seduce Jethro flowered quickly. The bloom wasn’t fresh like the bud of a rose but black. The unfurling petals dripped with filth, sprouting from a place I never wanted to acknowledge. He belonged to a family who ruined mine. He had no compassion. No heart.
How could I make him care when stone was utterly heartless?
I’ll try, though. Why not? I had nothing left to lose.
I could be their ward, to be tormented on a daily basis, for years. I would be his toy for however long he wanted. Time could change anything if the elements conspired with me. A mountain ultimately had to give way to the sea if hammered by its salty waves.
I’ll be that wave.
Jethro cleared his throat, deliberately stepping forward. His large frame pressed against mine, causing my body to twist and brush my naked breasts against him.
“Oops,” he breathed.
I didn’t look into his eyes. I couldn’t stand to look at him. All of this was his doing and I refused to let him unsettle me anymore. “Don’t touch me,” I whisper-hissed.
His hand lashed out, slinking up my pinafore and tweaking the same nipple his father had. “Silence.” Bowing his head to mine, he said, “And you loved me touching you. Stop being a little liar, Ms. Weaver.”
Gritting my teeth, I darted away, tearing his fingers from my breast. I breathed hard when I reached the sideboard. So much food.
My stomach scrunched into a hunger ache.
So what I was naked? So what over twenty men waited to do who knew what to me? It didn’t matter. Because my life hinged on throwing away normal and embracing the crazy I now lived with.