Page 1 of A Debt of Darkness

1

THIS WILL STING A BIT

IVY

“Ican do this.” I stare up at my bedroom ceiling. “I will survive this.”

I repeat the mantra over and over, trying to delude myself into believing I'll make it through the weekend. I'm exhausted, my head's about to split open, and I'm completely fucked. There's no way out, no other goddamn option except to marry the asshole my father promised me to.

Sold me to more like it.

My marriage will save our multi-million dollar company. Henry Thorne has enough money to pay off all my father's debts and set him up for life, provided he's not stupid enough to lose a second fortune. Dad can keep the beach house and yacht, as well as the mansion, and my stepmother will return to her social lunches and designer dresses.

My father told me about the arrangement so Icould come to terms with it. He wanted me to accept my lot. Perhaps he thought I'd find honor or pride in knowing I'd saved my family from almost certain ruin.

It'll be a cold day in hell before I find anything to be thankful for, and if I have my way, then I'll fucking drag him into the ninth circle to witness it. He's condemned me to a life of pain, a miserable existence eking out excruciating moments. Not alive but unfortunately not dead yet—but my life will be fucked up beyond all recognition.

There'll be money beyond my wildest dreams and all the clothes and jewelry rich people wear to symbolize their power and wealth. We lost all of that thanks to my father's idiocy, and I'm the price he'll pay to get it back. I bet the asshole didn't think about it for a single fucking second either.

“It's going to be okay,” I say, whispering to myself.

Who the fuck am I kidding?

It's not going to be okay.

It'll never fucking be okay.

This wedding is a fucking joke and a sick one too. If my father gave a single fuck about anything other than himself, he'd never have agreed to it. He'd have found another way—any other way—or accepted his piss poor business decisions had ruined the business he inherited. Grandad died five years ago and it took less than that for my father to run his company into the ground.

Henry Thorne saw an opportunity and went for the kill like a ruthless shark. He needed a bride and my father needed money. I'm guessing our family name sweetened the deal. A deal signed before I even knew about it.

It's a tale as old as time and I was far too late to stop it.

In fairness, I've tried.

I pleaded with my father, but my bitch of a stepmothermade sure my protests were ignored.

I'd argued I needed to finish my degree. Even Dad saw through my blatant attempt to stall for time.

I escaped for half a day before Damon tracked me down and hauled me back. I'd cursed and spat and screamed, but our head of security ignored everything I leveled at him. At least he had the decency to apologize before dragging my sorry ass home.

And I'd successfully found an excuse not to meet my fiancé every time the asshole tried to arrange something. My excuses were becoming ridiculous, but I'll be damned if I let my pride get in the way of my future. One that now unavoidably includes the complete and utter cunt known as Henry Thorne.

His reputation precedes him and the only women who try it on with him are gold-diggers or idiots. He's a nasty piece of work. Ruthless. Cold. Calculating. Rich enough not to give a fuck about what anyone else thinks and to shove that fact down your throat repeatedly.

I run my hands through my long blond hair and dig my nails into my scalp. My fucking awful fake nails Natasha insisted I had done. I loathe the plastic French nail effect she made the technician apply and simply smirked as I winced during the entire fucking manicure.

This wedding is a fucking shitshow and there's nothing to celebrate. I haul myself up out of bed and stare at the heavy wooden bedroom doors, flicking my eyes down to my watch.

It's early.

Far too fucking early.

Early enough that the rest of the house won't be awake.

There's nothing to lose and everything to gain. It might not work but there's fuck all anyone can do if I’m caught and this situation can’t get any worse.

I throw my running clothes on before my doubts catch up with me and shove my phone and bank cards in my pocket. I'll have to rely on cash until I can get a new name and that'll cost money. Fuck only knows how I'll get my hands on that much and my stomach tightens, telling me this is a fucking stupid idea. I should have thought of this earlier and planned. It's all too goddamn late and it's either this or a fucking miserable marriage.

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