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

Chapter 10

Ten

Talia

D are is all grins as we pull up the long, sloping driveway of the Morgan estate. I look behind me and watch as the town of Harwicke falls away, just as the sprawling Gothic revival breaks from the landscape and juts out boldly. I can feel Dare’s eyes on me as we pull up the gravel drive, our tires crunching as we come to a stop. Dare jumps out of the car, looking like he can’t wait for me to meet Remy. I have a sour feeling in my stomach as I get out of the Porsche and run my fingers through my hair.

I can’t look anywhere but at the mansion itself, which stands alone on the top of this bluff like it owns the very air around it, like it was always destined to be here. Without the crowds of people and the cars cluttering the driveway, the mansion itself seems to loom over everything, standing alone and separate from the rest of the town of Harwicke.

"Well?" Dare grips my arm and motions to the huge oak doorway. "Come on then, darling girl. It’s your time to shine."

For some reason, his words set my teeth on edge. I make a sour expression and pull from his grip, but he redoubles the contact, gripping my arm harder, forcing me to take his hand. He swings open the massive front door without a word, and I step through, my eyes scanning the massive foyer.

It’s all marble and slate floor tiles here. Beyond the foyer is a massive, long hallway clad in dark wood and bright red carpet.

From what I can see right now, the foyer and the hallway beyond could fit my whole tiny two-bedroom bungalow three or maybe four times. To say that I am in awe would probably be an understatement. I’m trying to rapidly calculate how much it must have cost to build and maintain this structure for so long, as the house itself does appear to be quite old.

Dare takes one look at me, rolls his eyes, and reaches out to close my gaping mouth. "Don’t act like you’ve never been anywhere nice before," he hisses.

I clench my jaw and fire a sharp look his way, but he is already looking in another direction. He drags me down the hallway, and I can’t help but notice the expensive velvet chairs, long side tables, and priceless art that lines the hallway as soon as we get into it.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I thought of visiting the Morgan estate for the very first time. But this certainly exceeds all my expectations. It may be a desolate old mansion on the highest bluff in town, but its design is quite exceptional, not to mention its vast size.

A man in a full tuxedo with tails appears to our left, coming out of seemingly thin air. His burnished brown skin and close-cut dark hair, graying just at the temples, make him seem distinguished. But when he speaks, it is his English accent that completely throws me for a loop. With a bow, he greets Dare.

"Mr. Morgan," he says. "Welcome back. May I take your coats?"

"Thank you, Clive," Dare says. He claps the man on the shoulder, which seems to give the man a jolt. "That will not be necessary. We’re just here to talk to my grandfather."

"Good," Clive says. He bows again. "Mr. Morgan is currently meeting with someone, if you don’t mind waiting."

"Really? Who?"

Clive looks at me as if he were deciding whether or not I am trustworthy. His lips press into a thin line, and then he puts his hands behind his back, his face smoothing out into a pleasant expression.

"He is with Charles Adams, Sir. The chief financial officer of Morgan Oil. Mr. Adams is also one of Mr. Morgan’s oldest friends, if I were to read between the lines of their business partnership."

The two men interact as though I no longer exist. I peer at the magnificent painting on the wall just behind me, a reproduction of one of Monet’s Water Lilies , if I am not mistaken. It’s enormous in scale and flanked by two overstuffed velvet chaises in delicate gold and amber hues.

I tilt my head, lost in thought, as I try to calculate the cost of just the painting and the chairs. Five thousand? Ten thousand? Yet these two don’t even glance at it, despite the painting looming quite largely over everything in this hallway. They have become used to the luxury, I suppose.

"Yes, I know Charles Adams. He has been by Remy’s side for ages. He is definitely an esteemed figure." Dare bobs his head, seeming a bit perplexed. "Any idea why he would be meeting with the head accountant of Morgan Oil?"

Clive shakes his head. "That I am afraid I do not know, sir. If you would like, I can take your coats. You can wait by the fire that I have laid in the living room."

"All right, all right." Dare shrugs out of his coat and hands it over.

I freeze, looking at Clive with some bewilderment. I need my coat as a kind of armor against the Morgans. Besides, my fists are balled inside my pockets. If I took the coat off, I would have to figure out what to do with my hands.

My lips twist. "I’ll keep my coat, thank you."

Clive lifts a brow but does not respond. He bows again and heads off, disappearing behind a door made of the same wood paneling in which the interior of the long hallway is clad.

Dare walks a little way down the hall, opening a door on the left. He strides through it, expecting me to follow. I frown and hurry after him into the living room. The name of the room made me think of something closed off and cozy.

But the room is vast and has a distinctly masculine energy. There are huge, overstuffed leather couches lining the walls, wood paneling on almost every surface, and the mounted heads of deer, goats, and even a lion. In one corner of the room stands a full-size stuffed bear, fangs and claws outstretched. There are a few bookcases here and there, but most of the floor is taken up by plexiglass displays of smaller creatures that have been stuffed and are posed in the most menacing fashion imaginable.

Dare saunters over to a brown leather couch near the fireplace and sinks down onto it, a pout on his face. He watches me closely as I cross the room and take the seat furthest away from him on the same couch. Our gazes clash, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Would you like a drink?"

"A drink?" I shake my head. "No thanks. I’m here to do business, not have fun."

"Very well," he says. He gives me a little smirk and sits back, pursing his lips. His eyes glitter blue-green with menace.

"You know, in all my hurry to get you to agree to talk about my brother on tape, I haven’t asked you a very important question."

I cross my legs and tilt my head. I’m busy looking around, trying to guess how much the trophies that I see displayed in the room actually cost. Were they secondhand, perhaps? Or could I factor in a vacation and a hunting trip for every single one?

It would easily be in the hundreds of thousands of dollars.

"What question is that?" I ask.

"How was the sex?" He grins at me. "I have to say, Burn doesn’t seem like the kind of man who makes a satisfying lover. But I have been wrong before. So how was it?

I sputter, shocked. "What?"

"I’ve always wanted to know what women like about Burn. I mean, he is charming. But how does he even get women into bed? It cannot be very pleasant to someone so self-involved. He is verging on narcissistic, and I think it’s very telling."

"You can’t be serious. That’s very personal." Turning red as a beet, I scowl at him.

Inside, I am really beating myself up because I allowed myself to be put in this situation. Though I can’t see how I could’ve avoided it, I feel stupid.

Dare, on the other hand, seems to be thoroughly enjoying this moment. "I’m just testing the waters. You know you have to be quite explicit when I take your statement. You can’t just say that you had sex. I won't be satisfied with that."

I put a hand to my cheek, feeling like I might burst into flames from the embarrassment he is clearly causing on purpose. The knowing look in his eye makes it even worse.

Standing up, I start to pace the floor. "You know, that gives rise to another question. Why do you want to hear about your brother’s dirty laundry so badly? You don’t seem to me as though you particularly enjoy spending time with me. So, there must be a reason behind your insistence on getting everything on videotape."

He puffs out his cheeks and shoots me a tiny glare. Then he shrugs, clearly irritated by the question. "What business is it of yours?"

Is it strange to say that I get a little pleasure from finding something that is so off-putting to him? I turn on my heel, trying out a smirk on him. It seems to make him fidget, his long fingers drumming rapidly on the brown leather of the couch.

Good. Turnabout is fair play, after all.

"So? Are you going to tell me? Or is it a secret?"

He snarls, jumping up off the couch with surprising speed and grace. He moves towards me, opening his mouth to respond to the question. But just then, I hear a distant voice. The voice is feminine, and it ends with a distinctive, tinkling laugh. I turn my head and realize that Dare has frozen in place, his expression turning black like a thundercloud.

He gives himself a shake, and then he’s on me, grabbing me by the arms and hissing a direction at me. "Let’s go. Come with me."

I struggle against his grip, looking up into his distracted face. He is looking over his shoulder, and I try to wrench my arms from his grip. He looks at me then, snarling, showing me a glimpse of his perfect teeth. But he doesn’t yell at me. Instead, he bends down, grabs me by the waist, and throws me over his shoulder.

My mouth opens and I make a garbled sound of shock, but he smacks me on the ass, hard enough to leave a mark. My ass stings, and I release a howl of shock. But before I say or do anything else, Dare opens a doorway that blends in with the rest of the wood paneling and docks inside a dark passageway.

What the hell? Where is he taking me? That question is very much on my mind as Dare rushes down a passage, then climbs up a set of stairs, taking them two at a time.

At the top of the stairs, he turns left and then opens a door that leads out into the hallway, much like the wood-paneled hallway that I saw earlier. Dare quickly opens another door, this one leading into a navy blue and teak wood bedroom, so I don't get to see much of it. The whole room is dominated by a huge four-poster bed and smells faintly of a delicious bergamot cologne that reminds me instantly of Dare.

It’s the cologne that Dare wears. I realize suddenly that this must be Dare’s room. Funny, I didn’t ever think about what his bedroom would look like. I hadn’t even thought about anyone in the Morgan family sleeping anywhere. For all I know, they all sleep upside down, hanging from the ceiling like vampire bats.

But here is the proof. He carries me a few more steps and tosses me down on the bed. My entire body tenses awkwardly, and alarm bells are going off inside my head.

"What are we doing here?" I demand to know. “You can’t mean to try to take me to bed like this. I would think that you would at least be more... beguiling, I guess."

He scoffs and backs up, staring at me blackly. "No, you wish."

"I don’t want you. And I don’t want to be in this bedroom with you right now. In fact, I would very much like to leave now."

Dare laughs; the sound is ugly. "Every woman wants me. Or perhaps I should say that every woman wants my name, my money, and my prestige. Admit it, you would kill to have even a little of my wealth and power."

My chin juts out in defiance. I throw my head back and look up at him.

”I admit nothing. I don’t want anything to do with your family. Especially you."

"Really," he challenges. "I think that you don’t even know what you want."

My lips part, and I prepare to respond with an argument. But he steps forward again, leaning down close to my face. He moves between my legs and then his big hands grip my waist and pull me against his hard body. He whispers against my lips.

"I’ll prove it to you, darling girl."

Without another word of warning, he grabs me like he owns me. He slides his hand up into my hair and pulls my head back, pressing his lips against mine. His lips cover mine; his mouth is so hot that it could melt steel. His tongue snakes out, teasing me, as slippery as an eel but as enticing as ever.

This… This is being kissed.

I am so taken aback that I open my mouth to him and close my eyes. Dare is a very good kisser; his hands are in my hair, and the tip of his tongue is coaxing mine. My pulse is sky high.

In the heat of the moment, I must admit that the weight of Dare’s body pressing against mine is alluring. I can admit to myself that, in this moment, I do find him physically attractive.

Not that I ever want him to know. I wouldn’t be able to stop him from getting his head around ideas about sex that I have little to no interest in following through on.

So I have to take control of this situation. If I don’t stop him, I don’t know how far he’ll take this.

I push against his chest, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. He is too busy angling my head just so and taking pleasure from my lips on his. I bite his lower lip hard, more on instinct more than anything else. But he immediately shoves me away, touching the spot that I just bit. He looks up at me with outrage in his eyes.

When he pulls his hand away, I can see blood.

"Fucking tease," he hisses.

Breathing hard, I barely have a chance to catch my breath. "You know, you shouldn’t kiss people against their will. It’s very last century."

Dare pulls a pocket square out of his jacket and wipes away the blood as best he can. He glares at me. "Let’s get one thing straight. If I decided I wanted to seduce you, I would. Not only that, but I would make you beg me for it. Not that I would actually fuck you, because you are just a little girl with no money, no class, and no prospects. Are we clear?"

I suck in a breath, cut to my very core. I feel the threat of tears stinging at the corners of my eyes. Dare looks at me, smirking with a self-satisfied expression, blotting off his lip.

Just like I expected. A billionaire is a privileged guy who has never had to worry about anything in his whole damn life. There is a reason that I don’t like the Morgan family as a whole. And he is the very personification of just that reason.

Over Dare’s shoulder, a throat clears. Dare rolls around and moves out of the way, leaving enough space for me to see that Clive is standing in the doorway, his posture stiff and formal.

He bows and says, "Excuse me, but if you want to get in to see Mr. Morgan, now would be the time. He is wrapping up things with Mr. Adams now, and he has another meeting in just ten minutes."

Dare glares at me dramatically and straightens his posture. "Let’s get this over with."

Dare turns and follows Clive, and I in turn follow them both down a narrow set of stairs to the first floor. We emerge just in front of a pair of pocket doors, through which I can hear the low rumbling of a voice. Then suddenly another voice, low-pitched and male, comes in, practically screaming at the other voice to get out of his office.

The pocket doors are wrenched open by an older man in a gray sweater and black slacks, dabbing at his balding forehead with a handkerchief. He looks at Dare and nods ever so briefly, hurrying past and down the long hall toward the foyer.

My eyebrows rise as I turn to see Remy Morgan himself, a squat little man with two huge white lines for eyebrows and a balding pate. He grimaces and swings his head around to take in Dare and I. He is wearing a dark pair of khaki pants and a tan golf shirt. He looks about as inviting as a skull found by the side of the road.

His face crinkles, and he steps out from behind his huge desk, waddling out to the doorway. It takes him a minute, but when he gets there, Clive slides in and hands him a polished black walking cane with an intricate gold monogrammed M carved into the handle. He thanks Clive and then waves him goodbye.

"Well? Clive says that you want to talk to me, Dare. Time is wasting."

Dare tightens his tie and steps forward, a balanced smile on his face. "Hello, grandfather. How have you been?"

Remy looks at his watch. He huffs, standing his cane against the floor. "It's been a busy day. If you could please just get on with it, I have another meeting to attend to."

Dare’s lips tighten, but he keeps smiling. "Very well. Grandfather, this is Talia. And she has come to ask for clemency in a financial matter."

Remy cuts Clive a look and leans on his cane, licking his teeth. "That’s very demanding of you, young lady."

My heart rate jumps up, making it hard to speak for myself. I clear my throat and stumble over myself as I try to explain my situation.

"Well, sir. You see, my Aunt Minnie has a bookstore and a bungalow, both of which belong to a real estate group owned by your family. In fact, it’s our little bookshop that your family shorted when they decided to buy the children’s books for the Christmas event at another place after already placing an order for the same books with us. You see, we rely on that money to keep the bookstore afloat. Without it, we are going to have serious financial difficulties. Maybe even with that money, honestly. Aunt Minnie, God bless her, is so charitable and generous that she borrowed money from some suspicious loan shark types to pay for..."

Remy starts yawning during my last sentence, and he throws a hand out, beckoning me to stop mid-sentence. "God, don’t make me listen to you tell me the entire financial history of your aunt."

My heart beats so hard in my chest that the blood rushes in my ears loudly. "Sir, that is why you should forgive our debt and pay me for the books that you ordered for Christmas."

"Oh, is that all?" he asks. "For fuck’s sake, Dare. I only have a limited number of hours left on the planet. And yet you bring me this?"

Dare shrugs, his smile vanishing. "I don’t mean to waste your time, Remy. I brought her here because I thought that you might be inclined to hear her out. My grandmother, Shelley, was often found lost in that bookstore. I thought that maybe you would show some clemency for her favorite store in town."

Remy’s eyes narrow on Dare’s face. "Don’t bring your grandmother into this; God rest her soul. She’s got nothing to do with our real estate holdings."

"Sir, if you could just..."

Remy holds up his hand again, stopping my speech mid-sentence once more. "That’s enough from you. Now get the fuck out of my office before I start to get upset. And Dare, don’t bother me with this little shit ever again."

With that, he turns away, leaning heavily on his cane while he hobbles back toward his desk. Clive looks at us out of the corners of his eyes as he closes the pocket doors of the room.

The tears that threatened earlier? Now they have made good on their promise, blurring my vision. I don’t want to cry in front of Dare or Clive. I never want to cry in front of anyone, really. However, having this avenue of financial culpability suddenly cut off from me is a significant blow.

Clive opens his arms and begins to shoo us away from where we are standing. I put my hands over my face, feeling my cheeks fill with blood. This is embarrassing. I’ve never been rejected quite like this before.

Dare’s arm snakes out, and he pulls me along, turning a corner and walking back into the main hallway. "Don’t make a scene," he tells me. His voice is flat and emotionless, giving nothing away.

"I’ll make a scene if I want to make a scene," I say. I shake off his touch and give him a filthy look. "You don’t understand anything. There are people who depend on me just to get by. Then again, how could I even think that you could understand? Just look at you. Look at this place. Look at the splendor and opulence that you grew up around. You have a freaking butler, for God’s sake."

Dare frowns at me. "Clive is my grandfather’s butler, for your information."

"It doesn’t matter!" I shout. "None of it does. Most people don’t have this kind of luxury. And it’s enough to make me sick."

He looks at me, crossing his arms. He makes no move to comfort me or change my mind in any way.

"Beggars do not get to be choosers, darling girl. You wanted a chance to plead your case to Remy yourself. I gave you that opportunity. Now you give me what I want. That’s how this whole thing works. Or am I suddenly the only one with integrity?"

"You know what you are? You are a bastard. A complete heartless bastard."

Turning on my heel, I rush toward the front door, my thoughts a mess.