Page 15 of Twisted Debt (The Debt Tales 1)

Chapter Six

Elias

Watching her bawl shouldn’t hurt this much.

Yet it does.

And I hate it.

And I hate myself for hating it.

But I am not a man who makes idle threats.

And I damn sure am not one who lets anyone threaten him.

“This is going to hurt me just as much as it is going to hurt you,” I coldly state at the same time I skulk around to the back side of the seat.

“Elias, please,” she begs in a barely audible whimper, thick tears rolling down her thin cheeks.

“While I appreciate that you have abandoned the formalities once more, it will not stop what it is that’s about to happen next.”

Four fingers lightly thread themselves through her hair, and I allow myself a moment to indulge in the delicious way it flows. How silky it feels. How heavenly it smells.

The last thought threatens to put a softer smile on my face.

I know the scent, and I know it well.

It’s the leave-in-conditioner I had special ordered for her.

From the first picture I saw, I knew I not only wanted to dive my dick in, but that I wanted to give it – give her – all the care it was clear they both had been missing.

Perhaps that’s why her wanting to leave infuriates me as much as it does. Why would someone want to leave a person who wants to shower them with this amount of affection and attention they’ve never had?

“Your mistake of coming into my office during my work hours in inappropriate attire could’ve gone unpunished.” The dragging of my fingers down to the ends slowly begins. “Your…pathetic attempt at deal making could’ve also been overlooked.” Her trembling prompts me to tug the strands in warning. “However, your blatant threat to turn me in to the authorities as if I have done something wrong or illegal cannot.”

“I have a life, Elias,” she uncontrollably sobs. “Clients I clean for. College.Family to help take care of. Family who needs me.” Her hair is yanked again to cease her shaking. “You can’t – You can’t just – You can’t just do this to people! I’m a human being. I have rights.”

“Your rights,” I growl as I clutch onto the strands I plan to clip, “were signed over to me,” my hand lifts it higher for the chopping, “in a legally,” snip, “binding,” snip, “agreement.”

Zel attempts to grasp for air between her volcano of tears.

“Your father is the one whose debt you decided to erase.” Another cut is given. “You signed the contract.” Two more clips off the ends are taken. “Your hand held the pen.” With the separated strands in my fist, I shift back to a standing position, lean slightly over her shoulder, and sprinkle the severed remains into her lap. “You made this choice, little doll.”

Zel’s crying gets noticeably louder.

“Now live with it.”

“You’re a monster!”

“I’ve been called worse,” I callously retort while heading back to my desk, the sound of her weeping a soundtrack I didn’t need this morning. Once I’ve settled in my chair, I return the scissors to the organizer they share with my pens and gesture a hand towards the door. “The day is yours to do with as you like. I shall see you for dinner.”

Her light brown eyes have no trouble tossing a glare at me in spite of the tears.

“Wear yellow.”

Zel screeches a noise that hurts more than my ears.

Rather than respond verbally, I simply drop my stare back to the documents I was reviewing when she strolled in. I pick up a piece of paper, slightly angle myself to the side, and slyly watch her out of my peripherals retreat from my office. She throws her body backward – tiny tits bouncing deliciously around in the sports top I’m glad she found – , brushes away the brown remains in between blubbered bastards, and runs away like it was her ass I set on fire as opposed to the very ends of her hair I clipped.

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