The parchment used to be whole—it was age-stained, blood-marked, and torn. Glancing upright, I noticed the remaining pieces scattered around the table. A treasure hunt to read what would be my sentence.
Not every man had a piece, but at a quick count, I guessed four to five shards of secret-tarnished paper were out there, waiting for me to read.
Looking back to the parchment in my hands, my eyes landed on the crest I’d grown fast to recognise of hawks, women, and diamonds. It took pride of place at the top of the letter with intricate calligraphy and penmanship.
Taking a deep breath, I read.
On this date, the eighteenth day, of the eighth month, of the year of our Lord sixteen-seventy-two, we hereby convene to settle the unsightly claims and forthwith family disruptions between Percy Weaver and Bennett Hawk.
We call upon the royal sovereignty to grace this binding agreement upon the two houses, to put aside flagitious slander, and immoral actions, and settle this as gentlemen.
As esquire over this binding estate, I have mention Percy Weaver and family, including church-sanctified marriage to Mary Weaver, and his thrice offspring of two boys and one girl are also governed by the degree found today, or they shall hang by the neck until dead for heinous crimes found unjustifiable by the court of England so help me God.
It ended.
I stopped reading but didn’t move. Not a breath. Not a fidget. It was true then. My family had done something to justify all of this.
But what could be so awful to earn a contract spanning generations of repayments?
Mr. Hawk bounced me again, tweaking my nipple. “Finished?”
My heart neither fluttered nor sank. I was flying free—escaped from this unfolding nightmare.
“Intrigued? Want to know the rest?” His fingers twisted harder, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was finding out more.
Ignoring his touch, I breathed for the first time and nodded. As much as I didn’t want to get close to the other men with sin and greed glowing in their eyes, curiosity burned. I was desperate to read more torn pages and solve the mystery of my lineage.
Why did father never say anything? Why did he raise me to think we were good people?
That question would probably never be answered.
Mr. Hawk placed his hands on my hips, hoisting me from his lap. I stood with my eyes cast downward. Silent and waiting.
He smiled in encouragement. “Behaving well so far. Let’s see if you can keep it up.” Waving toward the overladen sideboard full of hors d'oeuvres, fish dishes, meat dishes, roast vegetables, and desserts, he said, “You’re our waitress for this little get together. Please be so kind as to serve our meal. You’ll receive a token of thanks from each of the Black Diamond brothers and earn the right to finish your reading.”
My legs moved before my brain registered. The primal part of me taking over to jump to the task. I might be a naïve woman who didn’t know how to jerk a man off, but I was a businesswoman at heart. I’d been around strict shop buyers, ditzy models, and sulking catalogue owners. I’d learned how to adapt and sell my work.
This was no different.
I had to adapt and sell myself.
Make him care. Make him feel.
My eyes flew to Jethro. Was it possible? Could I break his ice and find a man deep inside—a man who I could seduce, beguile, and ultimately use to stay alive?
Am I that strong?
Mr. Hawk tapped my behind as I skirted the back of his chair. Jethro didn’t move back, granting a small space for me to pass.
I hunched into myself, preparing for whatever cruelty he had planned.
His body twitched. The perfect lines of muscle and masculinity once again making me despise his natural beauty. An unwilling rush shot through my system at the memory of him touching me, fingering me.
He’d wanted me in that moment and it had nothing to do with debts or pain. It’d been pleasurable, confusing, and awkward but…maybe there was something I could work with.
The idea to seduce Jethro flowered quickly. The bloom wasn’t fresh like the bud of a rose but black. The unfurling petals dripped with filth, sprouting from a place I never wanted to acknowledge. He belonged to a family who ruined mine. He had no compassion. No heart.
How could I make him care when stone was utterly heartless?
I’ll try, though. Why not? I had nothing left to lose.
I could be their ward, to be tormented on a daily basis, for years. I would be his toy for however long he wanted. Time could change anything if the elements conspired with me. A mountain ultimately had to give way to the sea if hammered by its salty waves.
I’ll be that wave.
Jethro cleared his throat, deliberately stepping forward. His large frame pressed against mine, causing my body to twist and brush my naked breasts against him.
“Oops,” he breathed.
I didn’t look into his eyes. I couldn’t stand to look at him. All of this was his doing and I refused to let him unsettle me anymore. “Don’t touch me,” I whisper-hissed.
His hand lashed out, slinking up my pinafore and tweaking the same nipple his father had. “Silence.” Bowing his head to mine, he said, “And you loved me touching you. Stop being a little liar, Ms. Weaver.”
Gritting my teeth, I darted away, tearing his fingers from my breast. I breathed hard when I reached the sideboard. So much food.
My stomach scrunched into a hunger ache.
So what I was naked? So what over twenty men waited to do who knew what to me? It didn’t matter. Because my life hinged on throwing away normal and embracing the crazy I now lived with.
I would meet them in hell and play their horrid games. I’ll come out the victor.
Grabbing a tiered platter of pâté, crusty bread, and pickled vegetables, my mouth watered.
I’m so hungry.
My stomach growled, sending spasms of pain. I’d never gone this long without food, and the lack of sugars and vitamins faded the edges of my vision. My fingers whispered over a piece of roasted potato. Just one little taste…
“Hurry up,” Mr. Hawk ordered.
Shaking my head from the overwhelming need to shove a handful of delicious looking food into my mouth, I turned to face the table. I’d never waitressed before, but I guessed the man in charge would get first choice.
That means passing him again.
Holding tight to the platter, I held my head high, and made my way past Jethro. His mouth twitched as he once again blocked my path. I kept my lips tight together, not looking at the challenge in his eyes.
“Not interested in me anymore, Ms. Weaver?” he purred.
Mr. Hawk looked over his chair and pointed at me, then placed his finger over his lips in the universal ‘hush’ sign. A non-so-subtle reminder that I wasn’t permitted to speak.