A Debt Owed (A Dark Billionaire Romance) (The Debt Duet Book 1)

9 Years Ago

I’ve never been to a wedding before, but if they’re all as pretty as my father’s, I’d attend them all. I’m not sure people would allow me to come, though, since I’m not their kid, but if I smiled real cute, I probably could.

Most stuff I get away with. My father’s usually too busy with work or one of his girlfriends to even notice I exist. Right now, it’s his soon-to-be wife. She brought her own maids of honor, so I wasn’t needed. Not that I care. I’d much rather sit here in the audience than be over there in the limelight next to my brother, Elijah, who’s beaming as the best man. He likes that the suit gets him a lot of attention, but I’m the opposite of that. I’d much rather be on my own, though that’s impossible attending a wedding of this magnitude.

It’s over the top. Father flew us all out to the Netherlands just to have the wedding here in Amsterdam. It’s his favorite city, so that was all the reason he needed. He had all the Dutch folk set everything up for the ceremony while he sat back in his mansion in the United States. When we flew here just a few days ago, everything was ready to go. I’m surprised he didn’t plan his honeymoon here in the Netherlands too. I mean, all that grass and the houses here are beautiful, but their language is so hard to understand, and it’s always raining in this flat land. I don’t get why my father loves it here so much.

I don’t get a lot of things my father does. Like this lady, for example … she’s not at all his type. Way too uptight with too much plastic surgery—not to mention, she wasn’t here when he built his business from the ground up. She’s probably after his money but try telling him that.

Sighing, I look away, and my eyes fixate on a boy standing beside another adult man near the exit. They’re watching the spectacle, just as I should be, but I’m far more interested in what they’re doing here. Are they friends of my father’s? Or do they work for the wedding coordinator?

The man has placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder while they both watch my father and his new wife. I don’t care about the ceremony. I mean, I love my father, but this new lady … ugh.

I don’t consider her my mom, so she’d better not ask me to call her that. I’ll ask my father about it after the wedding. He usually does what I ask as long as it isn’t too outrageous.

It comes with the territory of having a father who’s barely around. He tries to make up for it with gifts and says yes to literally everything to pretend he’s a good father. I’m used to it. I’ve never known any other life, so I just smile and shrug it off. Things were the same when my mom was still alive, so I don’t expect anything to change now that my father’s marrying his next wife.

I’m surprised she managed to persuade him to get married. My father’s normally very protective of his life because of his multi-million-dollar business. He’s smart to shield himself from the gold diggers. I’d probably do the same if I was in charge.

But I won’t ever be. I already know my father prefers my brother to continue the business, Davis Holding, in his stead. He’s said multiple times that he thinks Elijah is the smarter one, and he’s always taking him on business trips while leaving me at home.

I don’t mind. I don’t like that he makes his preference so obvious, but I do like the freedom it gives me. I get to do whatever I wanna do when I’m old enough. Maybe I’ll go on a world trip … or maybe I’ll start my own business and build it from the ground up.

Or maybe I’ll end up marrying that handsome boy standing in the corner. He’s been staring at me nonstop since I sat down here.

I can’t keep my eyes off him even though the heat rises to my cheeks. With that long face, those ocean blue eyes, that cleft chin, and chestnut brown hair, he’s so handsome … and he’s only a teen.

I wonder what he’ll look like when he’s an adult. Not that I’ll ever see him again. We live in the States, and from the looks of it, he lives here in the Netherlands. He’s wearing simple denim jeans, and his father’s wearing an apron. Perhaps he’s the caterer, and his son just wanted to watch the ceremony, I suppose.

Who wouldn’t when it’s this extravagant with mountains of expensive roses and diamonds everywhere. Hell, I’m sure my father even got golden plates and cutlery, knowing the lady he’s currently giving half his fortune too. She loves everything over the top, including herself, and it makes me wanna barf.

When the two exchange the rings and a sloppy kiss, the whole room starts clapping, and so do I … even though I’m not at all happy with his choice. But if my father is happy, then so am I.

After the newlywed couple happily walks down the aisle, we all make our way outside to the beautiful courtyard where we’ll have cocktails. Well, the adults will anyway. I’m already happy with a lemon Coke on the rocks.

The first thing I do is run up to the drinks table. I can’t help but grin when I spot that same boy who was staring at me mere minutes ago standing behind the table, pouring drinks into the glasses.

“Hey,” he says when I give him an awkward stare.

A blush appears on my face, and I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Hi …”

“One, two, or three?” he asks.

My lips part, but I have no clue what he just asked me. “Um …”

He points at the prefilled glasses. “Coke, iced tea, and orange juice.”

I narrow my eyes. “So there isn’t an option to … mix?”

“Sure, which ones do you want mixed?” he asks, flipping the bottle as though it means nothing and he does this all the time like a true pro. He winks, making my heart flutter. But then I have to stop him from actually pouring two of them into one cup.

“No, I mean … a Coke with lemon? Maybe?” I bite my lip.

He cocks his head. “We don’t normally add those … but I’ll make one for you,” he says, and his lip curls up in such a sexy way that it almost makes my heart jump out of my chest.

Geez, Charlotte, get a grip.

“One lemon Coke, coming right up,” he says while flipping the bottle and then fishing a slice of lemon from his fridge. He sure is slick with this whole thing.

“You do this often, don’t you?” I ask. “Isn’t that like … child labor or something?”

He laughs. “I’m sixteen. Old enough to work part-time,” he says with a smirk. “Besides, I’m on vacation right now, so I might as well earn some money.”

I feel like a fool for even saying something.

He looks over my shoulder at a man standing behind a large table filled with delicious cakes and pies. “I help my father out with the catering when he needs it.”

“Interesting.” I nod a few times, impressed. “You know, you speak excellent English for a Dutchman.”

“Oh, I’m not Dutch,” he replies.

“Whoops, sorry,” I say, clearing my throat. “I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“It’s fine. We only just moved here from the US,” he says, shrugging. “Business opportunities or something.”

“Awesome. We’re only here for the wedding, but I can’t imagine having to learn the language.”

“Ah, it’s not so bad. Besides, my father teaches me. He grew up here.” He scratches the back of his head. “But I’m still getting used to it.”

“Hope your father pays you well then. You deserve it, especially with those amazing flips,” I say.

A mischievous smile curls his lips. “A little more than he should, but I usually tuck half back into his wallet when he isn’t looking.”

“Wow. Not only a great host, but also the best son a father could want,” I say, and his charming smile makes me swoon. He’s such a cutie and so nice too. My father should definitely hire him more often. And his father, of course. Can’t forget about him.

“So … what’s your name?” he suddenly asks.

“Oh, Charlotte, hehe.” I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. I deliberately don’t tell him my last name because I don’t want him to know that pompous man who just got married is my father.

“Easton Van Buren,” he says, and he holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

We shake hands and end it with an awkward smile. Luckily, he immediately hands me my drink because I wouldn’t wanna be caught fidgeting.

“Boring wedding, right?” he mutters under his breath, laughing it off a little.

“Yeah,” I reply, trying not to make it sound as though I actually know these people even though I do. Too well. I wish that wasn’t the case right now because this is embarrassing.

“If I had that much money, I wouldn’t spend it on any wedding. I’d cruise the world, or build my own home, or start a whole chain of clubs, or create a charity fund,” he says.

I take a few sips of my Coke. “A charity fund? For?”

“Children in poverty,” he says. “But you know… no one gives a shit about charities like that,” he says while chopping ice to put into the glasses.

“I do,” I say, clutching my glass.

He stops picking the ice and cocks his head. “Really? Or are you just saying that to sound cool?” He raises a brow.

“Nah, I mean it,” I reply, taking another sip of my drink.

“So if you were rich, you’d donate money to my hypothetical charity?” He puts up a smug face that makes it hard to say no.

So I nod. “I would,” I say. “But only if you swear on it that you’d do the same.”

“Fine,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’ll swear on it.”

Damn, he’s serious about this.

I grab his hand and shake it again. “Deal.”

His grin is infectious. “Now all we need to know is which of us will get rich first.”

I try to contain my laughter, but it’s hard. I don’t want him to think I’m a douche. I mean, if I was rich, I would do it. But my father’s the wealthy one, and I’m not sure he’d ever spend it on a charity.

“That prick who’s getting married right now doesn’t give a shit about any of that, I’m pretty sure. You’re the first who’s shown any interest in talking with any of the staff.”

“The only one? I doubt that.” I narrow my eyes, ignoring the fact he just called my father a prick.

“Literally the case. No offense,” he says. “I mean, I don’t wanna be an asshole, but you know how rich people are …”

I rub my lips together, not knowing how to answer that.

“Charlotte!” My father’s voice immediately makes me turn my head. He beckons me to come over. “Ahh …” I mutter when Easton’s eyes travel toward my father.

The one who got married is my father. And I’m the spoiled, rich daughter.

His smile slowly dissipates.

Our eyes connect again, and at that moment, he knows what I think of him. That he was a dick for insulting my father, but I don’t even mind because he’s right. In his eyes, I’m that filthy rich girl who could do everything she wanted, and the world envies people like me. But they don’t know what goes on behind closed doors and how we miss things like human interaction and actual love.

And even though I’d love for nothing more, we’ll probably never talk again. Our worlds are too different, too far apart for that to ever happen.

“Shit,” he stammers. “I didn’t … I wasn’t …”

“I know,” I say, smiling it off as if it means nothing. “My father’s a dick.”

He grimaces. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s the truth. I should know,” I reply. “Besides, you know how rich people are.” I wink, but that doesn’t make the hurt any less.

I wish my father hadn’t called out my name, so we could’ve continued this pretty little lie until the end of the night. At least then this wedding might’ve been fun.

“If it makes it any better, I don’t think you’re like that at all,” he adds, clearing his throat.

“Like what? An asshole who cares only about money?”

He licks his lips and looks down at the glasses he was pouring. “I apologize. If I’d known he was your father, I’d—”

“No. I want to know what people think of him,” I say, taking another sip of my Coke. “Makes for some fun conversations, that’s for sure.”

I put down the glass and take a deep breath when my father calls me again, this time a little harsher. “Charlotte! Come here!”

I sigh out loud. “Good luck with work today,” I say, turning around.

“Have fun,” he says, and I can’t help but notice the contempt in his voice.

I don’t blame him. I’d feel cheated too. “Thanks,” I say, trying to add a smile, but it’s not genuine.

“I hope your father’s new wife is nice to you. You deserve it,” he adds after I’ve already started walking. “I promise next time I won’t be such an asshole!”

Shaking my head, I laugh and yell back at him over my shoulder, “You’d better not!”

Then I walk back to my father, whose penetrative stare could cut through mountains. The few steps there feel like a walk of shame because he seems royally pissed. “Could you have taken any longer? Aren’t you going to congratulate us?” He gives me the stink eye.

“Okay …” Elijah mutters, standing beside my father. “Awkward.” He always watches as I’m about to get my ass handed to me. He never intervenes even though I often look him directly in the eyes. Just as I am now. All he does is turn around and walk off, not wanting to get in the middle of it. Typical.

Rolling my eyes, I kiss my father’s and his new wife’s cheeks. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, darling,” she says, making my skin crawl.

“What the hell were you doing there?” my father asks. “Chatting up that lowlife?”

“He’s not a lowlife, Father,” I say, making a face.

“His father’s a caterer. You have no business talking to a boy like that.”

I despise how judgmental my father can be sometimes. As if no one’s ever good enough for him. “I can talk to whoever I want.”

He grabs my wrist and forces me to come closer. “Charlotte, stop acting like a little brat.”

He’s making a scene now, and everybody’s watching. I’m being humiliated in front of all the guests.

“I’m not a brat! Stop calling me that.” I jerk free of his grip, and say, “I can do whatever I want. You can’t control me.”

Suddenly, he smacks me across the face. Right in front of everyone.

My face stings when tears roll down the red mark he left on my cheek.

“How dare you? You’re ruining this perfect wedding. Behave.”

“You hit me,” I mumble, touching my cheek.

“That’s what you get for acting out. You listen to me when I tell you not to talk to someone, Charlotte.” He points at my chest as if his finger adds extra weight to his words. It sure feels like it. “Don’t ever embarrass me like that again.”

My father and his new wife turn around and walk up to the guests. “Now, where’s the music? It’s time for our first dance.”

Everyone starts smiling again, and they all walk away toward the staged area while I’m left with my head hanging between my shoulders.

His embarrassment … that’s all that matters to him. His image. His pride.

And I tarnished that idea by even being remotely interested in someone who’s beneath us. Because that’s what he thinks when he looks at someone like Easton. Just a worker who should keep his mouth shut.

But that’s not what I see when I look at him right now. The pity and empathy he exudes from one look are enough to make me cry even harder. I don’t deserve any of that compassion or that sincerity that encompasses him.

And when he parts his lips to say something from across the terrain, I spin on my heels and run off.

Charlotte

Present

I once met a boy at a wedding party. It was a picturesque location with the prettiest of decorations, but under the pressure of money, it all fell flat … except for him. That boy who managed to lighten my mood even when I was feeling down because of my father’s choice to marry his shiny new plastic wife.

I never understood why I was so enamored with talking to that boy or why I was so attracted to him. Maybe I wished for my life to be as simple as his seemed to be. Maybe I wished for a father like his instead of mine, who would rather slap me and give me away than love me.

Or maybe I wished for that same boy to whisk me away into a prettier life.

But I never expected any of those wishes to come to fruition.

Now I’m stuck in a restaurant with that same boy who’s now a full-fledged man, complete with a chiseled body and a smirk that makes girls’ knees buckle.

It does nothing for me. Taken against my will, I was just a pawn in a grand scheme to destroy my father’s empire. And now he expects me to marry him too as a payment toward my father’s debt.

No freaking way.

I can’t believe I ever fawned over this guy or even liked him as a boy. Look at what he’s become. All rich men are the same. Once they have cash, they behave like animals, devouring anything they come across. And now it’s my turn.

I don’t intend to become his wife. But I can’t run away from him either because I don’t want to have the murder of my father on my conscience. My father may be a giant asshole, but he’s still my father, and I still care about him. Despite him treating me badly all my life, I don’t want him to die.

My father would never risk his life for money. Did my father go to him, or was it the other way around? Maybe Easton was after me all this time. “Tell me, honestly, did you give my father that loan just to get to me?”

The wicked grin that spreads on his face speaks volumes. “Not only a pretty fucking princess but a smart one too.”

My skin crawls. I don’t want to believe it, but I have to. All these years after the wedding, he was still obsessed with me. Why, I don’t know because we barely spoke and only on a handful of occasions. But my father forbade it in an instant, and that was that. But I guess Easton didn’t take it so well.

“So you wanted his business to fail. Did you set him up?”

“No, that was all on him,” he replies.

“How much did you offer him?” I ask, feeling resentful of the price tag on my head.

“Twenty million.”

My jaw drops, and I try my hardest not to let him see, but I’m already too late, judging from the devilish gleam in his eyes.

“And you’d be worth far more than that, but I didn’t want to give your father more cash than he deserved,” he muses, trying to grab my hand, but I remove it from the table. “I’ll give you the world if you let me.”

“No way,” I hiss.

“You’re only saying that because you’re overwhelmed. But you’ll change your mind soon enough,” he says, getting up from his chair.

“I doubt that,” I say, but he clears his throat as if he doesn’t wanna hear me.

“C’mon. We’re leaving,” he says.

I make a face. “Where are you taking me now? Another fancy trip? Wanna flaunt me like some goddamn prize?”

He pulls me out of my seat and wraps his arm firmly around my waist, forcing me to leave with him.

“My home … and I promise, you’ll love it there. You won’t ever want to go back once you’re there.”

“There?” That sounds far. “Back from where?” I ask as he drags me outside where the car waits.

He opens the door, and growls, “The Netherlands.” And before I can say another word, he pushes me into the car and shuts the door.