Debt

by Nina G. Jones

  “In a rush?” I ask, my head propped on my hand.

  “Jesus! You scared the bejesus out of me!”

  I watch her, while I battle with the fact that I just spent the night in bed with a woman I have spent the last ten years of my life plotting to kill. She’s so harmless...but she’s not. She’s got me by the balls already and she doesn’t even know it. There is power in her kindness and warmth. If she was a cold bitch, she’d be dead by now, but her vulnerability has been an impenetrable shield.

  After talking to Rex, his words were like the gentle breeze that pushed my teetering body off of the ledge. After I swapped out the pills, I needed to get to work impregnating her anyway. But that reason is bullshit, it justifies me being here in the framework of “the plan,” but I am here because I want to be here. I want to fuck Mia, to see her, to know her.

  “I have to be downstairs by eight,” she says, hopping over the clothes she tore out of her luggage on her way to the shower.

  “It’s not looking good.”

  “Thanks for the encouragement!” she calls out, disappearing into the bathroom.

  For a moment there, it felt like we were a normal couple, that I don’t constantly battle with wanting to punish her and fuck her. Or fight a battle more terrifying: wanting to punish her or wanting to spend time with her.

  I sit up and crack my neck, grab the hotel room phone, and call room service. “Hi, bring up whatever breakfast food you can as quickly as you can. I have someone who needs to be somewhere in fifteen minutes. Thank you.”

  I walk past her things scattered on a table in the bedroom and my eyes catch her disc of birth control pills...Correction: placebo pills.

  I am so fucked up. Such a piece of shit.

  I am doing this for her. I can’t live with Jude never getting her payback. I am responsible for who she is today. I made a vow to Jude. Even if I could break my promise, Jude would never accept it. The only way for Mia to be safe outside of getting her pregnant is to kill Jude. And that’s not going to happen. There is only one thing that can make Jude look past the wrath she feels, the one thing she has fixated on all these years: a child.

  Jude is infertile, due to massive internal injuries she suffered, and she always wanted a child in our family. Our family is just her and me, and so that leaves me having a kid to fulfill this fucking obsession of hers. I never had an interest in having children and it broke Jude’s heart. It was like she was losing the ability to have children twice. We are fraternal twins, but she always considered us half of a whole, one complete person. And so, she would love my kids as if she had given birth to them. They would replace the rage her barrenness has left behind.

  No matter how she begged, I refused her that. I could kill in the name of this debt, but I wouldn’t bring a life into it. I never met a woman who I wanted to have my children and I never felt the yearning to be a father. The word “father” was like a curse word to me. I hated my own dad. I don’t just mean that in the way most bitter children of asshole parents do. My dad hated us and we hated him back. Usually you learn how to love from your parents, I learned how to loathe. He taught me so well, in fact, that I killed him. Oh yeah, he owed us too. He was just as guilty as all of those other fuckers. Some could argue he was the most guilty, because he had an obligation to protect us. But he chose booze, and money for a lifetime of more booze, over his own fucking kids. Father, that word makes bile rise up my throat. Why would I want to be a father?

  No woman ever meant anything to me, other than Jude, and that’s different because she’s my sister. I could never bond with a woman emotionally. It’s as though a fuse was blown somewhere inside of me. I could fuck them, I could make them fall in love with me, but I could never return anything other than indifference.

  When I had to fuck Tripp’s mom for two agonizing years, I might as well have been fucking a waterbed. I didn’t even care enough to dislike her, though fucking her was as about an unpleasant act as I could think of. Patiently seducing her was so much harder than killing people. Good thing it was the most lucrative of all debts we collected. Hundreds of millions when all of the factories and properties were sold.

  That’s what fucked me up about Mia. It wasn’t just that the sex was great — I’ve had my share of beautiful women. No, it was what I felt during it...well, more that I felt anything at all. The fact that once I busted my nut, I still thought about her. She even tastes different, like her body chemistry draws me to her.

  So, if there is any woman in the world who I would want to have my baby, it would be Mia. And I am lying to her so that she can finally be safe. I warned her, that no matter what would happen, I would hurt her. It’s all I am good for. There is no way this ends without Mia getting hurt, but I can do everything in my power to lessen the pain. An unplanned pregnancy is far better than death.

  Jude won’t hurt the woman who is having my child. And she won’t want that child to lose its mother the way that we lost ours. I know Jude well enough to know that. Children are her soft spot. My child is the only solution that will dilute her potent rage.

  After a few minutes, there is a knock on the door. I throw on some boxer briefs and accept the room service, pouring myself a coffee and putting some in a to go cup for Mia. See? I can be nice when I am not focused on a 14-year vendetta.

  Mia stomps out into the living area, stopping in her tracks when she sees the breakfast spread. She’s wearing a white flowing sundress. It makes her look so pure, and I want to filthy her up while she wears it.

  “Did you order all that?”

  “Yes, I figured you might not have time to eat otherwise.”

  “Wow, thank you...” she says skeptically. I don’t blame her, I’ve poisoned people before.

  “Here, I don’t know how you take it, so it’s black,” I say, handing her a to-go cup filled with coffee. I catch her give me the once over, and she so subtly bites the inside of her lip. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t love the fact that she’s as attracted to me as I am to her.

  “Thanks again. Sorry, you have to forgive me, this is so...different.”

  “I got you some breakfast. I’m not Prince Charming.”

  “Still very much appreciated.” Her phone chimes. “Shit, I gotta go.”

  “I’ll see you for lunch.”

  Her eyes brighten, but then she sighs. “I can’t keep stealing away. They’re not idiots. They are going to get suspicious. Laney has already texted me three times about last night.”

  How cute...she thinks I take no for an answer. How cute? Fuuuuuck, I need to go wrestle a rabid bear or some shit.

  “I’ll see you for lunch. In fact, let your staff do the work. You aren’t a Director of Operations anymore, you are the fucking President. You’re taking the afternoon off. Don’t forget, I still own your ass.”

  Yes, I am prick for bringing up the leverage, but I know it gets her wet when I exert power over her. So, yin yang or some shit.

  “Fine! I’ll see you later,” she says, shoving a banana in her mouth. Instant erection. Mia snatches a bagel and heads for the door. Then she skids to a stop, turns, runs towards me and plants a kiss on my lips. She stuffs the bagel in her mouth and says “buuhhyeee,” and disappears out the door. I kind of stand there like a stunned jackass. The things I have done to this woman, and it’s a peck on the lips that makes me freeze.

  I stare at the door for a while, and then realize I am smiling. In fact, I have been smiling since I woke up this morning.

  I don’t know what’s gotten into Tax, but I like it. The coffee, I keep inhaling its scent, it smells like the best coffee ever because he poured it for me. This dry-ass bagel tastes like the most doughy piece of deliciousness because he ordered it for me.

  Is it safe for me to put my guard down? For me to at least expect that he’ll still be here later like he said he would? There is so much progress that needs to be made, but last night was a different Tax. He was still fierce, but fierce with desire, not just contempt.


  I can tell his heart is heavy with some sort of inner battle. I don’t have the slightest idea of what that could be. For all of the emotion I have wrapped up in this man, I still know almost nothing about him.

  I know he has a step brother named Rex. His parents are dead. He owns Draconi Corp and thus, Alea. He fucks like a sexual demon. He thinks I owe him. Yup, that’s about it!

  Am I crazy? Has something snapped in my brain? How can I feel safe around this man? Why would I want to pursue anything deeper with someone who came into my life by sneaking into my house under the guise of a rape-for-hire prostitute?

  But my heart doesn’t give a shit of what my mind has to say. She wants what she wants. For all of the mystery that shrouds Tax, I live when I am with him. Everything is more potent. Colors are more vivid, food more savory, scents more aromatic. If I can just get him to trust me, then we can evolve.

  I’m not an idiot. The scars on his body, the rage that always bubbles underneath the surface: I know there is a demon shrouded in a beautiful shell. Tax promises he will hurt me. Being with him is like mounting a phoenix, I can only hold on for so long before I am incinerated.

  But, there is something I think we both realized last night. Neither one of us has a choice. When we are together the energy is cosmic: when we are apart all we can think about is the next time we will meet. Whatever will happen between us is inevitable. All I can do is brace for our impact.

  I enter the convention hall, and though sex is on the menu, the energy in the room is almost silly: silicone-implanted porn stars pose with fans, bright booths show off the latest gadgets, men walk around in assless chaps. Yup, this small-town girl from Iowa has made a life for herself in this world.

  I find the Alea booth, and I gleam with pride, admiring the modern metals against teals, pinks, and purples. Our models, all named after Greek goddesses, stand triumphantly in display cases. Thanks to Tax, I will never look at some of those models the same way again.

  “Mia!” Laney calls out excitedly.

  “Hey, this all looks great.”

  “I got worried when you never came back last night. You said the meeting was serious. Is everything okay with Alea?”

  “Oh, yes. Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. Mr. Draconi apparently came down because he wants to take a more active role with the company and of course he’s springing all these meetings on me now. He can be really demanding. So I am going to have to have you steer the ship while I am gone this afternoon.”

  “Well, lucky you,” she says with a smirk.

  Shit. “I’m not catching what you’re throwing.”

  “Are you blind? I’ll admit I was a little thrown off when he came over, but how can that guy be the owner? I love Dewey, but Dewey was like a dad. Mr. Draconi...” she shudders.

  “Yes, Laney, he is very good looking.”

  “Is he married?”

  Step back, Laney. “No, but even though we don’t have an official policy, fraternizing with owners is something Alea looks down upon.”

  Laney’s eyes flare up, remembering that despite our casual friendship, I am now the President of Alea. “Well, of course Mia! I just wanted to know who the lucky beyotch was.”

  I smile a little on the inside. “Not sure, he’s very private.” Don’t I know it.

  The day seems to drag on as I chat with potential distributors, passersby, and the usual ilk that attend these events.

  Just before noon, Tax texts me.

  Meet me out front. You’re done for the day.

  I let Laney know I have meetings with Draconi Corp for the rest of the afternoon and to call me if she needs anything. I’m not being irresponsible, right? I’m delegating!

  As soon as I step outside, the humid Miami air latches onto my body, making it glow with a thin layer of perspiration. I shield my eyes from the sun to search for Tax when a hand lands on my lower back.

  “Oh, hi!” I say, trying to contain the shivers that his touch ignites.

  “How was the dildo convention this morning?” He asks so seriously, that I burst into laughter.

  “Please stop calling it that. I can’t even take my life seriously when you call it that.”

  “Mia, I bought a sex toy company so I could be close to you. If there is anyone who shouldn’t take themselves seriously, it should be me.”

  Those words should terrify me, but instead they shoots fireworks down my belly. To have anyone give you that much importance, good or bad, is thrilling.

  “The place is just a short walk away,” Tax says, pushing back a loose tendril of my hair. I fidget nervously and scan the perimeter to make sure no one I know sees us.

  “My ponytail is a mess,” I say.

  “I like the purple.” He smirks. “I also like when you leave it out. Only for me though.” He runs a finger across the back of my neck.

  This man.

  “It’s possible I am hungry for something other than food now,” I say breathlessly.

  “Aren’t you always?” he whispers.

  “Only for you.” My spine shudders, realizing those are his words, and like everything else about him, they have gotten under my skin.

  His lips graze my neck as he leans in. “Oooh, now I know you are trying to get fucked. But you have to know by now, I like to make you suffer for it. So you’re going to wait a little longer before I give you my cock, Mia.” Dear god, the way he says my name, he purrs it like a lion.

  “You’re going to kill me one day,” I confess.

  He stiffens, grabbing his phone to check for the time. The mood becomes heavier. “We should go.”

  It is sweltering today, and the breeze off of the coast is only a fleeting respite from the unrelenting moisture in the air. Even Tax, who is usually suited up, is dressed down in a pair of ivory pants and a relaxed navy tank that highlights his shoulders, pecs, and of course, his colorful neck.

  Within minutes, we are walking down a dock, greeted by a man dressed just like you’d expect a ship captain to dress: in a crisp white uniform and a cap.

  “Mr. Draconi, good afternoon.”

  “Afternoon,” Tax replies, stepping aside so I can board the yacht first. I am dumbfounded. I thought we would go to a cafe or something.

  Self-preservation instincts kick in. I don’t really know this man. From this point, he could take me to any Caribbean island. He could leave me in the ocean. But as I have done thus far with any ounce of rationality, I ignore it in favor of the more powerful instinct that tells me to keep grasping for more. To follow this man into the depths of hell.

  Tax leads me to an expansive deck. Beverages are stocked, and several picnic baskets wait for us.

  “Tax, a yacht?” I scold. “This is too much.”

  “We’re in Miami. How often do you get to enjoy the ocean? Besides, I can’t fucking stand the people here, I prefer the solace of a boat. Trust me, it doesn’t take much effort to put in a phone call and reserve a yacht. Think of it as a floating cafe.”

  There he goes, minimizing his gesture. It’s his way of reminding me not to read too much into his kindness.

  We pull out the food from the picnic basket and I take in a few bites, but being out here with him on these sparkling waters distracts me from my hunger.

  “Are you done?” he asks, after I stop eating.

  “Yes, it’s good, I’m just not very hungr—“

  “Take off your clothes.”

  “Sorry, what?”

  “Mia, just because some things are changing, doesn’t mean everything does.”

  My gut flinches at those words. He still owns me. He can choose to be nice, he can choose to stick around when he’s done, but he still has my reputation in his hands. Though at this point, I wonder if he would even ruin me if I challenged him. I just don’t see why he would do that after last night. There are moments of rawness between us, where we expose parts of each other no one else sees. I feel that he cares about me. Would he really want to destroy me?

  “No,” I say.

>   “Mia, don’t make me regret my kindness.”

  “There is another man on this boat.”

  “He’s at the helm, he won’t be out here.”

  “And if I still say no?”

  Tax’s jaw muscles undulate as he grinds his teeth.

  “It’s nice to see someone love their career the way you love yours. I don’t want to be the one to make that all go away. Now don’t make me repeat myself.”

  “After all this, you would still do that to me?”

  “Right now, doing this to you is what’s keeping you safe.”

  I don’t understand. I am so sick of his cryptic threats and unknown debts. I never felt like my life was in danger up until last night, I only thought my dignity was at stake. But this is the second time he has mentioned my safety, and somehow I do believe that this man who I thought was my greatest threat, might actually be protecting me in a way I don’t understand.

  “I doubt making me your sex slave is keeping you safe.”

  “Don’t,” he says, rising to his feet. His patience evaporates. “Mia, I give you just a little bit of anything other than my anger, and you start to become defiant. I cannot have that. Don’t make me regret coming out here. If you want me to go back to my old ways, I can do it in a heartbeat. Don’t for a second believe I can’t shut this shit down. You don’t know what I am capable of.”

  I choke back tears of disappointment. If I had just taken off my clothes, things would not have gotten to this. Lord knows I wanted to, but I had to challenge him. He’s right, I began to feel confident in my place with him, but Tax does the ordering and he doesn’t take kindly to defiance.

  “Now take the dress off or I will fucking rip it off myself.”

  The boat stops to anchor, the humming of the motor dies and there is only the gentle lapping of waves against the boat.

  The light ocean breeze licks against my skin, but not as powerfully as when the boat was moving. The humidity and sun begins to claw at my flesh again, covering me in a glistening veil of perspiration. I look at Tax through fierce eyes, like I could stab him right now, but inside, my body responds to his harshness. I want all of Tax, his ferociousness, his forcefulness, but I must have the other part. The part that wants more. I can’t live with myself if I give in to a man who despises me, and uses sex only to hurt me. But if I know he cares, if there is more, this interaction is something else entirely. I like the violence, the abandon, but I need to know he won’t leave me or hurt me every time we’re done.