Page 76 of Craving

She couldn’t give him her business, no matter how much he threatened her. She’d paid him! She’d paid him every penny she owed, plus an extra ten grand!

But Frankie had slipped the envelope into his jacket’s breast pocket, then pretended it didn’t exist. She’d been so stupid to trust him. So stupid to bring untraceable cash.

But she’d had no choice! The money had only hit her account that morning, and a bank transfer would have been late. Cash was her only option.

She’d asked him for a receipt when he took the envelope, and Frankie had laughed.

It made Camilla’s blood boil, but she couldn’t ignore the acrid tang of fear on her tongue. How long could he keep her here before someone realized she was missing? She hadn’t told anyone about her debt or about the fee. She’d been so sure that she could do it on her own, fix her past mistakes, then move on.

Even Marlon would think she’d changed her mind and found somewhere else to spend the night. He wasn’t coming to save her.

She’d been so stupid, hadn’t she? There had been a thousand chances to tell him what was going on. Even this morning, in the hallway of the Old Road Hotel, she could’ve told him where she was going. She could’ve explained why she froze up the night before, why she’d pushed him away.

But she’d been a coward, and now she was paying for it.

All Marlon had wanted was to take care of her, and in her infinite pride, she hadn’t allowed him to do it. The man who had lifted her onto her shoulders and carried her out of her parents’ awful house. The man who had housed her, fed her, loved her.

Bracing herself with a deep breath, Camilla turned back to the contract. She couldn’t sign it. Couldn’t.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the gray metal door. A lock scraped. Frankie appeared in the doorway. He wore the same clothing as earlier, so Camilla guessed it was still Saturday. His hair was combed back from his face, revealing his receding hairline. The broken capillaries on his nose were stark on his pale skin.

“So,” he said, seeing the papers in her lap. “Are you ready to make the right decision?”

Camilla stood and set her jaw—then flung the papers at his feet. “Go to hell, Frankie.”

Anger flashed in his eyes. He took a step toward her, then paused. “After all I’ve done for you, Ms. Fox.”

Scoffing, Camilla planted her hands on her hips. “What, extorted me?”

Frankie clicked his tongue. “Such harsh language. We signed a binding contract.” He spread his palms, like he was helpless. “What am I supposed to do, let you get away with not honoring it?”

Her voice was a low hiss, spoken through her teeth: “I did honor it, Frankie. I paid every penny.”

“Except for the ten thousand dollars you owe me for the late fee.” He heaved a dramatic sigh, eyes sharp as he affected a shrug.

“I paid you the money.”

“Funny. I don’t remember that.” He gave her a smile that was all teeth.

“Why are you doing this?” Camilla whispered before she could stop herself. “Why do you care about my bakery so much? It doesn’t even generate that much money.”

Frankie’s eyes grew hard. “Why? You’re asking me why?”

Helpless, Camilla spread her hands. “Yes!”

“I’m only doing to you what your prick of a father did to me,” he spat, his face growing red.

There was nothing Frankie could have said that would have surprised Camilla more. She gaped at him, speechless.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he said, taking a step toward her. “You know exactly what this is about.”

Camilla stood, not wanting him to loom over her. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your father’s meteoric success as Stirling’s own luxury car mogul. Where do you think that came from? Who do you think he stepped over on the way up?”

“Um…you?”

Frankie’s eyes flashed. “Yes,” he hissed, “me.”

---