Debt Inheritance (Indebted #1)

Chapter Five

**NILA**

"GET ON."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

Jethro didn't move. He didn't look condescending or annoyed or anything other than cold and collected. Nothing seemed to interest him. I thought I could use him for sex? He didn't look like he knew what a smile was, let alone passion.

His legs bunched beneath the dark charcoal of his trousers, steadying the heavy motorcycle between them. "I said, get on. We're leaving."

I laughed. What a ludicrous suggestion. Waving down my front, I hoped he wasn't blind, because no one could ignore the kilograms worth of black diamantes or acres of material I wore. "I struggled to get here in a limousine. There's no way I can perch on the back of a stupid motorcycle."

Jethro's lips quirked. "Come closer. I'll fix that."

My heart jumped; I clutched my phone tighter. No response from Kite. Which is a good thing. I just had to keep telling myself that. I never wanted to hear from him again. "Fix it how?"

"Come here and I'll show you." His eyes drifted down the front of my dress.

I'd been around powerful, attractive men all my life. Both my father and brother were well known for being eligible bachelors, but they lacked something that Jethro held in abundance.

Mystery.

Everything about him spoke of trickery and wile. He'd barely spoken, yet I felt his requests. For some stupid reason, it felt as if he'd trained me with his silence to be alert, ready, eager to please.

I hated his effortless power. 

Backing away, I shook my head. "I won't."

A small smile graced his lips, golden eyes flashing. "That wasn't very polite. I gave you a request, kindly delivered, respectfully even." His fingers tightened around the handle bars. "Should I ask again, or will you rethink your reply?"

A trickle of fear blustered down my neck. I knew that glint in his eye. Vaughn would get it when we were younger. It meant destruction. It meant getting their own way. It meant a world of pain if I didn't obey. And for some reason, I didn't think a wedgie and being tickled until I couldn't breathe counted as pain in Jethro's dimension.

Clutching the bodice that'd taken me weeks to hand-sew, I took another step backward. Keeping my chin high, I said, "I'm not being impolite; I'm stating the obvious. If you wish to leave, we need a different method of transportation." Speaking so formally sounded odd after screaming via text message to Kite. "And besides, I don't want to leave yet. I promised myself I'd ask you something, and I'm not going anywhere until I do."

God, Nila. What are you doing?

Nerves attacked my stomach, but I kept my stance. I wouldn't back down. Not this time.

Jethro shook his head, displacing his longish salt-and-pepper hair. His smooth face remained expressionless with patience, but it didn't relieve—it terrified. With precision born of wealth and confidence, he kicked the stand down and placed the bike into a resting position. Swinging his leg over the machine, he climbed the curb and hunted.

No. Don't let him touch you.

I stumbled backward, a slight edge of dizziness catching me off guard.

Jethro caught me, placing his large, cold hands on my waist.

I froze, breathing shallowly. Shoving away the moment of wobbliness, I fixated on his strong jaw and glinting diamond pin.