Til Debt Do Us Part (Married At Midnight #4)

Chapter 1

One

Talia

M oney is the root of all evil. There is no way for most people to know that, though.

It's the type of knowledge that comes with firsthand knowledge of just what it’s like to be poor. Counting all your quarters and dimes to afford public transit, eating peanut butter straight from the jar because you can’t afford bread this week, choosing between going to the dentist and being able to pay rent kind of poor.

I fidget with my necklace, the only piece of jewelry I have that my mother gave me as a child, and try not to grimace as I stand in the tiny bit of shelter provided by the building I’m huddled in front of. The street is dark and the night rain-slicked. I blow on my aching fingers to keep them from freezing as I wait. Each minute seems to drag by, with me pulling my flip phone out of my pocket regularly to check the time.

No texts.

I pull a battered copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland from my pocket and try to get lost in the story, but it’s just too damned cold for me to focus.

Across the street, I watch as a party of drunk people climb the stairs of The Raven’s Head Club, talking loudly and laughing.

These are the exact kinds of people I’m talking about. The men are in dark overcoats, their expensive watches and designer suits showing as they reach for the door. The women are huddled under umbrellas. Their expensive red-soled high heels clack against the stone pavers underfoot. There is no doubt that beneath their wool coats are expensive dresses in showy colors, golds and silvers, and bright pink satin.

I detest these people. And to drive it home for me, as a group they are too involved with themselves to even notice me glaring at them, waiting in the chilly rain for my friend to show up.

Ugh, I am only waiting for five more minutes at the very latest.

Glancing at my watch, I shiver. Olivia is late, as is her wont. It’s basically her only flaw in a lifetime of wonderful friendship, so I let it slide.

But I’m still stuck waiting for her here, having stepped off the bus into the rainy early winter evening. Now I’m waiting for her to appear, as instructed, unsure about why I’m looking at The Raven’s Head Club. I’ve never seen the place before in my life, not that there is much to see.

Just a set of stairs, a large black door, and a little plaque telling the world that the club is by invitation only.

I hear a voice calling out and turn, hopeful that it is Olivia. But no, it's a group of girls whispering and cackling amongst themselves.

"Shhh," one of them says to the rest. "Hurry, we don’t want to be late. Burn was very specific about us being on time."

There is an explosion of giggles.

"Burn is so hot!" one of the women whispers in response. "It’s unbelievable that someone so rich can be such a hunk."

Another round of giggles, coupled with a couple of soft agreements.

"He’s dreamy," another girl says wistfully. "They both are."

"I like Dare. He’s so angry and brooding. It makes me think that he’s an absolute dragon in the bedroom."

Their names mean next to nothing to me, but the whispered comment does make me wonder. Who are the girls talking about? Obviously, the sort of men that inspire this kind of gossip in this group of well-to-do girls are something to be seen.

Then again, judging solely from the vacuous giggles and the long, expensive-to-maintain hairstyles of the group, the guys might just be the usual bland men in skinny black ties, designer black suits, and so much cologne that it makes you want to barf. Yeah, on second thought, I probably don’t want to meet any guys that this crowd of women talks about. Hard pass.

I turn and scan the street, trying to see who they might be talking about. But it’s impossible to know. There are no men in sight, just brilliantly beautiful and flamboyantly dressed girls. Their faces are all young and excited, all exuberantly beautiful.

The girls don’t even look my way as they hurry across the rain-slicked street. It’s unlikely they even know I am here and I make no move to change the status quo. If they did spot me, what would they see?

Just a pale girl drowning in an oversized, shabby coat. A flash of coppery hair and a pair of bargain-bin ballet flats—the nicest shoes I have. A vintage boho bag, large and functional, with worn leather that is a dull brown.

Olivia spoke in the strictest tone when she called earlier and told me to meet her here... and to dress nicely. I knew from her tone that she meant something other than the bulky brown sweater and knee length black skirt I usually wear.

I am totally out of my depth tonight.

Across the street, I notice that the girls have paused at the entrance to the disreputable-looking gray building that towers over the street corner. It must have been a very nice church when it was built. But time and weather have done their work on the building's outside, with water leaving dark streaks down the side of the building and the windows mostly boarded up.

The girls seem to make a decision, falling into a vee formation as they climb the broad stone steps of the gray stone building. The girl at the front tucks her long blonde hair behind her ear and steps forward, all but disappearing in the church’s Gothic-styled hooded cupola.

As I look on, I cannot help but to count the extravagant, showy signs of great wealth that the girls have proudly chosen to wear. One of the girls is wearing expensive, red-soled high heels. I see a glint of diamond earrings nestled in the earlobes of another. One girl clutches a tiny black Prada bag. I cannot see what they are wearing beneath their black wool coats, but I am sure it is short, tight, and expensive.

For a moment, I wonder what it would be like to be one of those girls. What would my life be like?

I admit to myself that it is not at all like it actually is. These girls don’t have to worry about whether or not their next paycheck will be able to buy them groceries and pay the rent. It must be nice...

"Talia!"

I turn my head to see Olivia hurrying down the dark street. She holds a newspaper over her head to shield her from the rain, but it isn’t working. As she rushes toward me, a halo of droplets shines in her dark hair, and her cheeks are bright pink.

Try as I might, I can’t help but smile at my best friend. She's usually late and a little frazzled.

"Olivia!" I greet her. "How are you?"

She tosses the newspaper onto an overflowing trash bin, making a face and dusting off her dark jacket. Then she grabs me by the arm and pulls me along toward the church's front door.

"Hold on a minute, Talia." She calls out to the girls that have only just begun to disappear through the door. "Stacey? Wait! We’re here!"

The group ripples, stopping before the door in a graceful pack. A girl turns and looks impatiently behind her. I realize it's the girl with the bright red-soled heels.

My pulse speeds up. I clench Olivia’s hand. She’s too busy to do more than give my hand a pat in response.

"Oh." She stares down imperiously as Olivia rushes to pull me up the stairs to join them. "You made it after all. I thought you might bail."

"Sorry for the lateness," Olivia starts.

But Stacey has already dismissed her, ushering the other girls ahead of her into the gaping doorway. To the right of the doorway is the small bronze plaque that reads, The Raven’s Head Club, By Invitation Only.

My stomach does flip-flops. We’re in the seediest part of Harwicke right now, with the docks on one side and the run-down warehouse district on the other. The few blocks surrounding the church seem desolate. And yet, here is a plaque admonishing trespassers.

It’s all quite odd.

My eyes dart over the large, curved doorway, seeing only a black morass within. Aside from the pervasive rap music, there is not even a hint of what is inside.

"Olivia," I say. There is a bad feeling in my gut that demands that I absolutely should not go inside.

She clutches my arm tighter, hissing her reminder. "Talia, you’re the one who got all emotional and told me that you’re worried that something is wrong with you because you still haven’t lost your v-card."

My entire face floods with heat. "Shh! Are you crazy? Don’t announce that to the world."

"I’m not trying to shame you, Talia." She squeezes my arm and tilts her head. "My intentions are just to get you out of the rut you have been in. To meet some new people and let loose just once. I’ve known you for almost twenty years, and yet I can’t remember you ever just having a good time." She cocks a brow. “And this place? It’s apparently crazy inside. It might call itself a bar, but I hear that it’s really a sex club.”

She drops her voice, whispering the last two words. My cheeks flush and I shake my head. “We aren’t the sort of girls that go to a sex club. You’re a frigging PhD student, I’m a retail employee.”

She cups my face, using her thumb and forefinger to squeeze my cheek. “Loosen up. If you want to shed your v-card so bad, there will be plenty of guys inside just lining up to claim it.”

I scrunch up my face, considering her words. She’s right about the fact that I cried on her shoulder about being an uptight virgin just last week. Could this party be a gateway into a more relaxed, happier life for me? I know it’s a sex club, but… I don’t want to die a virgin, do I?

"I know what I said," I acknowledge. “I just hoped that you had forgotten about the whole thing.”

She sighs and pulls me closer. "You promised me that you would come to this party. Give it a chance, at least."

I swallow the retort on the tip of my tongue and try not to make a face. "I know. I’m keeping an open mind."

But I’m not. As we step through the doorway, a gust of cool air swirls around my ankles. Smoke trickles down from the darkness above. Rap music blares around me, vibrating the worn leather of my purse.

Ahead of me, I see a doorway open, showering us in pale pink light.

"What the heck is this place?" I mutter to myself.

It only takes a few moments for me to find out. I move forward through the doorway and into the Raven’s Head.

With Olivia practically yanking me along, I stumble forward as I look around the room. It's luxurious to the point of being ostentatious. Black booths line the whole room, with matching brown wooden tables clustered against the walls. There are ostrich feather displays on each table, the feathers gold and black.

In the middle of the room, a low-lit black bar dominates the space. But that's not the part that intimidates me.

No, that would be the people. The bar patrons look exactly like the girls that we came into the room with. Young, white, wealthy, and having a good time. Almost everybody clutches a tumbler or wineglass. At the table to my left, champagne is being poured, and the young man in charge of the bottle is grinning as he fills the glasses of several giggling girls. There are people openly making out in every corner of the room.

In the far back, I see a blonde standing on a table, her black dress unzipped in the middle to show her bare chest, her breasts perky and looking quite rosy. A circle of admirers surround her and she laughs, sounding more than a little tipsy. A dark haired girl in a tight red dress sprays whipped cream on her tits.

The blonde gasps as the woman moves to lick the whipped cream from the tip of her breast. When a dark haired young man vaults himself onto the table and quickly licks the other nipple clean, the blonde leans down and French kisses him with a lot of deep tongue.

I guess I’m not in Kansas anymore.

"Whoa," I breathe out, my eyes widening. I turn to point the girl out to Olivia but Olivia is already five steps ahead of me.

All around me is complete chaos. The barely controlled party is mayhem. This is the complete opposite of my usual Friday nights at Hope House, the local emergency shelter for children. I can’t even imagine what the kids would think of me in a bar like the Raven’s Head Club. They would probably ask me why.

It’s a fair question. Why am I here, exactly?

I hurry along beside Olivia, my eyes taking in every raucous laugh and good natured scream. I have a suspicion that most of the entertainment here is powered by champagne.

My stomach churns at this. Is this what my town's wealthy elite have been doing all this time? I have been so busy with work and volunteering at Hope House that I have barely had time to sleep. But these people seem comfortable in this space, as if it's a regular haunt for them.

My mouth twists with a sour expression.

Olivia drags me forward a few steps to a large group of people. I can see the young woman with the red heels greeting a suited young man. He offers her a glass of wine, a knowing smirk on his face. I am rather tempted to step forward and smack the wineglass out of her hands. But in the next second, Olivia pulls me forward again and we become officially part of the group.

Several men are seated on the bench seats against the wall. All around them are groups of smiling, giggling girls. Every one of them is dressed to kill, pulling off dark coats to reveal short dresses in dark hues. I feel severely underdressed and am loath to take my coat off when Olivia does. But she gives me a look, arching an eyebrow.

So I slide my coat off, exposing my body. I'm wearing one of Olivia's dresses that she got from a thrift store. It is pink and sparkly, and at least it covers my arms and chest. But it is very short, with the hem hitting mid-thigh. Olivia approaches me, gently squeezing my arm.

"Just relax. I promise you a good time. You promised me that you would let me plan a night out. Give it a chance."

My cheeks flushed a little. "I will. I swear."

"Seriously, it's just one night. After this, you can go back to your regularly scheduled volunteering at Hope House. No one is trying to tear you away from it. I'm just showing you how the other half lives." She gestures around us, her hands sweeping wide. My gaze follows her hand, taking in the bar. I swallow.

I can't believe that this place is real. It seems so over-the-top.

In the next moment, my thoughts are interrupted by a waiter who comes around with a tray full of drinks. He hands out the glasses of wine without asking if I want any or not. I accept it because that's what everybody else seems to be doing. I look at the purplish liquid in my wine glass, flushing it around a little. A note of coconut rises to my nose, and I sniff the wine.

"What is this?" I ask. I'm guessing this is wine.

A tall, good-looking man turns around and looks at me and Olivia. There is a little smirk on his face.

"I'm Burn", he says. "Are you here with Hannah?"

Olivia smiles at him and nods emphatically. "We are. It's our first time here. We were talking about the drinks we've been handed."

I examine Burn silently as they talk. Aside from his height, his slicked back dark hair and blue green eyes sparkle like a lake on a sunny day. His eyes are only bolstered by his gorgeous smile. I'm not sure why he's even talking to the two of us, although I suspect that Olivia is more of a draw than I am. She tosses her hair and gives him a flirty look.

Burn purses his lips.

"It's called elixir. Try it; you'll see why."

Olivia flashes a smile at him and does as he suggests. She smacks her lips and looks at the glass in her hand, surprised. "Oh! It's good." She elbows me. "Try it, Talia."

I flush under his inspection and take the tiniest sip possible. Although the drink is as dark as wine, it is light and fruity in flavor. I look at my cup with some surprise. “Is there even alcohol in this?" I ask.

The man chuckles. "There is, so be careful." But… His eyebrows lift a little. "Not too careful, if you know what I mean."

I take another sip and try to suss out the alcohol flavor. Usually, alcohol tastes very strong to me. But my second sip confirms that there is absolutely no alcoholic undertone.

I don't know if I should be more or less worried about that.

"So what are you doing here?" Burn asks. "Are you from out of town or something?"

I take another sip of the elixir while Olivia answers for us both. She shakes her head. "Nope. We are from Harwicke, born and raised. We're just not usually out socializing with this set of people." She looks around her, taking it all in. "I guess we’re normal."

I snort, and she looks at me, elbowing my ribs. I hide my reaction to it by taking another long drink of elixir. When I look up, I find Burn staring at me with a mischievous smile.

His piercing blue eyes skewer me, seeming to be able to see to the bottom of who I am and how much I am worth. I glance away, but the feeling that I am being judged doesn't fade.

I hate to think what I am worth in Burn's estimation. If I had to guess, I would say not much at all. But in the next second, he surprises me.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have very pretty eyes?"

"My eyes?" I croak, suspicious. “What do you mean?”

"Yeah. They are sort of a deep blue that you don't see every day. They’re sexy."

He thinks I am sexy? The idea is unfathomable.

My cheeks turn the color of a beet. I open my mouth to respond. But Burn just shakes his head and laughs.

"Don't argue with me. I can tell that you want to. You just need to relax and enjoy yourself at this party. You're so freaking uptight."

I glance at Olivia, my brow furrowing. But Olivia is talking to another young man, her body turned a quarter of a turn away from mine. She is entirely absorbed by the conversation and seems to be having a good time.

I swallow. Is Burn right? Do I just need to stop imagining that everyone at this party is out to get me?

Burn's big hand comes down on the back of my shoulder like a burning brand. I tried to brush it off and wiggle out from under his grasp, but he just grips me harder. "I know what we need."

The words are spoken in a loud whisper, and his face is suddenly very close to mine. Close enough that I can smell his aftershave, the delicious bergamot scent winding around me. I close my eyes for just a moment, inhaling the scent, and a shudder runs through me.

Is this normal? Do other girls go to parties just like this one to have handsome men like Burn complement their eyes and touch their shoulders? Because if so, I can suddenly see why these parties keep happening.

It feels deliciously good to have someone as gorgeous as Burn paying attention to me.

"You know what you need?" he asks.

My eyes flicker open and my lips part. I look up into his aquiline gaze and think about how it would feel for him to kiss me. Would it feel nice? When I find being kissed by this handsome rich boy very thrilling?

I lick my lips, feeling a vague want.

I am very aware of Burn's sudden movements, of where his hands are, of every expression that crosses his face. I think… I think I might be tipsy. I've only had a little bit of the elixir, which I am still clutching, but I am having an out-of-body experience somehow.

Burn tilts his head towards the back of the room. "Have you ever been to the VIP area?"

I frown, shaking my head. "This is our first time here,” I say by way of explanation. As if that were the only reason that I hadn't been invited before.

"You should come to the back area with me. Your friend as well. We should all do a shot. And then we can play a game."

"A game?" With a snort, I ask the question, "What kind of game?"

I’m uneasy with the amount of attention Burn is paying me. Why is this rich guy with his carved cheekbones and his beautiful blue eyes interested in me?

He shrugs a shoulder, his gaze leaving mine and wandering down to my shoulder. He sweeps away the bit of copper-colored hair that he finds there, pushing it back with his fingers. His skin brushes against mine ever so slightly, but it causes a shock wave to run through my bloodstream.

When Burn speaks, I’m entranced. "Whatever you feel like. Spin the bottle, strip poker, naughty truth or dare. Whichever one gets you naked the soonest sounds like a winner to me."

My lips part and I lean my head back, a smile pulling at my lips. Burn smirks and slides his arm around my waist. He towers over me, pulling me close.

This guy, this handsome Greek God that I am staring at, is definitely hitting on me. I can't even believe it. When I thought of coming here and socializing, I never considered that I would be doing any more than standing on the edge of the party and familiarizing myself with pretending to be cool. But the idea that I would walk into this party and immediately hit it off with the very first guy I talk to...

It's almost unthinkable. I lick my lips and look away. Burn must sense my hesitation because he smirks and looks down at me. He snakes his hand down to my hip and squeezes me close.

He lowers his head to my ear, tickling it as he murmurs sweet words into it.

"You’re not afraid, are you? I won't bite. If I do, I promise that you’ll love it."

I flush and put my hands on his arm, ready to push him away. But he licks his lips and quirks his eyebrows, his expression amused. For some reason, my will to protest disappears.

Burn grins. "I'll take that as a yes." He lets me go for just a second to grab Olivia's wrist and give it a tug. She turns with a frown on her face. But once she takes him in, she blushes and awkwardly smiles.

"Hi." The single word is so flirtatious that I’m shocked. Olivia doesn’t flirt with men so openly, especially not men I am interested in. Maybe this is a new Olivia that I haven’t met before, a special sex club Olivia.

His lips twitch. "You were wrapped up in talking to Byron. I didn't want to draw attention away from a friend. But your friend and I are going to head into the VIP section. Are you coming?"

Olivia's eyebrows fly up. She looks at me, her gaze startled. "You are? I mean… Of course. I just didn't expect..."

The warmth of Burn's body returns as he puts his arm around my shoulder once more. He jerks his head toward the back of the room. "Come on then. We'll go together. Apparently your friend will not go anywhere without you, so..."

Olivia looks like a deer in the headlights as he escorts us toward the back of the room and into the VIP area. People move out of his way almost unconsciously. He is quite tall, but lean. I gawk as they clear a path for us.

Olivia does manage to grab my hand for a moment as Burn lets go of me to open the door. She swallows and looks at Burn, ducking her lips down close to my ear.

"Be careful with him,” she says. “He looks like trouble.”

But before she can say anything more, Burn picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. I yell and Burn claps me on the ass with a firm hand. His hand leaves a definite print on my butt, five burning fingers that sting. My face flushes, and my pulse grows erratic.

Is this what I have agreed to?

I get a glimpse of the VIP area as he carries me. The lights are very dim, and the music is slower and more sultry. A lot of black leather couches and people in various stages of undress are piled on top of them. Several waiters make the rounds in the VIP area, and Burn barks at one of them as he passes.

"You! Come with me. Bring that tray of shots you are carrying."

Burn steps into a private room of sorts, just a few couches pushed together with a tall floor-to-ceiling chrome stripper pole in one corner. He puts me down and sends the current occupants of the room away.

"Out," he growls.

To my surprise, a half-dressed guy and the two girls with him immediately get up off the couch and just hurry out of the way. "Of course, Burn." I hear the man grumble as our group slides in and takes their place on the couch.

Burn sits down and pats the spot next to him. His look is playful. "Come here, kitten. Sit with me and have a shot."

Olivia plucks at my hand, trying to pull me away. But I'm already staring at Burn, drawn in by his intense, probing gaze. Again, I wonder exactly what it would be like to kiss him. Before I know it, I am already moving toward him, with Olivia right behind me. I take the seat he picked out for me, and he smiles as I sit down. Olivia sits right next to me, her gaze watchful.

Burn pulls the silver tray out of the server's hands and passes me a shot glass with a pale yellow liquid. Olivia takes one of her own, and on the other side, the guy she was chatting up takes one too. Burn smirks as he raises the shot glass.

"To us. Let's get in trouble."

He taps his shot glass against mine and winks at me. "Bottoms up."

Looking at him, I swallow and then toss back the shot. I was expecting that the liquid in it would burn or be unpleasant. But in fact, it is the opposite. It's warm and smooth and tastes like pineapple juice. It isn't very much like alcohol at all.

"Wow," I say, looking at my empty shot glass. "That was actually really tasty."

Burn laughs and orders another round from the server. It's only then that I look over at Olivia, who is eyeing Burn rather intently. I notice that she has only taken the tiniest sip from her shot glass, and I just scrunch up my face.

"You don't like it?"

"It tastes fine. I just want one of us to be somewhat sober in case something happens. I thought that it would be you... But don't let me stop you from having fun."

I lean back. Burn drapes his arm around my shoulders again, and he whispers in my ear.

"You hear that? She wants you to have a good time. Do you want me to show you how I have a good time?"

I swallow and look up at him, all dark hair and high cheekbones, faded blue green eyes, and pouty lips. Darting my tongue out to lick my lips, I slowly nod.

"I really do," I whisper.

He grunts and stands up, offering me his hand. "Come with me. I'll show you how it's done."

I don't check in with Olivia this time. I don't check with anyone. I just put my hand in his and let him pull me along into a new experience.