Bound By Debts

CHAPTER2

Scarlet

Ten minutes to two.

The clock above the Valle counter ticked louder with each passing second, or maybe that was just my nerves amplifying it. My phone sat cold and silent in my hand—still no word from Oliver. I dialed again for the tenth time in an hour. Straight to voicemail.

"Scarlet, you okay?" Joey’s voice startled me. He stood behind me, balancing a box of chips to restock the shelves.

I forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m good.” My hands moved instinctively, rearranging the counter display to look busy while my eyes flicked toward the front door.

They’d be here any minute.

“Hey, Scarlet!” Silvia’s voice cut through from the kitchen, her head poking out from the doorway, a phone cradled against her shoulder. “Catering customer wants to know if we can split their bill across three cards. That work?”

I blinked, her words struggling to make it through the fog in my brain.

“Uh... yeah. That’s fine. Just make sure it’s all up front.”

“You got it,” she said, ducking back into the kitchen.

Joey was almost done shelving the chips. I intercepted him as he walked past, taking the now-empty box from his hands. “I’ll take this out,” I said too quickly.

The excuse was weak, but I needed to breathe—something to keep me from unraveling completely.

Joey frowned, his blue eyes narrowing.

“You sure you’re okay? You look... pale.”

“I’m fine,” I lied, my voice tight. “Just need a minute outside.”

He hesitated but nodded. “Alright. I’ll keep an eye on the front.”

Before I could make it to the door, I saw them. Three men, their dark hair and neatly pressed black coats making them impossible to mistake. They were crossing the street, heading straight for the Valle.

Time’s up.

“No, wait,” I blurted, stopping Joey in his tracks. “Why don’t you show Silvia how to use the meat slicer again?”

Joey raised an eyebrow. “What for? You thinking of replacing me already?” His voice was teasing, but my patience for banter was nonexistent.

“It’s good for her to know,” I said, my words rushing out. “Just in case she ever needs to do it when we’re not here.”

The door chime rang softly, and my stomach dropped.

“I’m just messing with you, Scarlet,” Joey said, chuckling as he wagged a finger at me. “You need a vacation—you’re way too wound up.”

Shaking his head, he disappeared into the back.

The three men didn’t bother looking at the menu as they settled into the corner table by the door. They spoke to each other in low voices. I caught snippets of Russian.

I checked my phone again, desperate for a lifeline. Nothing. Oliver wasn’t coming. He’d left me to clean up his mess, like always.

I clenched my jaw and grabbed the envelope from under the register. My hands felt like lead, but I couldn’t afford to freeze now. With the envelope tight in my grasp, I walked over to their table.

The conversation stopped as soon as I got close. Three sets of eyes turned to me, sharp and unrelenting. The man at the far end—the one with deep brown eyes—held my gaze.

Something about him made my stomach twist. His tousled hair and short beard might have softened his angular features, but the cold intensity in his eyes radiated danger. He was clearly the one in charge. He was dangerous.

I stopped at the table, my hands shaking slightly. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might knock me off balance.

“Hi. Uh…” I cleared my throat and forced my shoulders back. “You’re here to meet Oliver, right?”

The guy closest to me leaned back, a smirk creeping across his face before he let out a low laugh. “Are you his secretary or something?”

“No,” I snapped, gripping the envelope tighter.

It felt too light for what it meant—ten thousand dollars, everything I had scraped together, a down payment I could barely afford.

“Then where is he?” another one asked, his tone sharper. My eyes darted to the third man sitting in the corner. He wasn’t saying anything, just watching me with those dark, unreadable eyes.

“He’s not here,” I admitted, trying to keep my voice steady. I cleared my throat again. “But I think I’ve got what you need.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” the first guy muttered, his gaze crawling over me in a way that made my skin itch.

“I mean, I have this.” I shoved the envelope toward the guy in the corner.

He hadn’t moved or spoken yet, but I could tell he was the one in charge. He didn’t even look at the envelope, just gave a slight nod to the man on his left.

The guy grabbed it, tore it open, and flipped through the bills. His frown deepened.

“This isn’t all of it.”

“How much is there?” the first one asked, sounding bored.

“Ten grand,” the envelope guy said, tossing it back onto the table. It slid to me like a slap in the face.

“Not enough.”

I swallowed hard, the sting of their disdain sharper than I’d expected.

“I know it’s not the full amount, but it’s a down payment. You’ll get the rest. I just need more time.”

The first guy snorted. “A down payment,” he repeated, mocking.

“Hear that, Yogi? She’s got a payment for us.”

The one across from him—Yogi, apparently—picked up the envelope again and thumbed through it. His thick accent sharpened his words.

“Funny, I don’t remember a payment plan. The deal was two hundred grand plus interest. This?” He flicked the envelope onto the table like it was trash. “This is two hundred forty thousand short.”

Heat crept up my neck, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. “It’s everything I have right now,” I said, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. “You’ll get the rest. I just need more time.”

“Boris, Yogi,” the man in the corner finally spoke, his voice calm but with an authority that silenced the others immediately. “How do you know Oliver?”

I straightened. “He’s my brother.”

The man’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, his attention sharpening.

“Why isn’t he here? Is he hiding?”

“I don’t know where he is,” I said honestly, my voice quieter than I wanted. “Maybe he got caught up at work.”

Yogi let out a bitter laugh. “If he worked, he wouldn’t need us.”

I ignored him, forcing myself to focus on the man in the corner.

“I’m here, and I have the money he was going to give you. He just needs more time. I swear, he’ll pay everything back.”

The man rattled off something in Russian, and Boris and Yogi stood immediately, brushing past me on their way to the counter. My pulse spiked, and I instinctively stepped aside.

“What are they doing?” I asked, unable to hide the tremor in my voice.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” the man replied as he stood. He was taller than I’d realized, broad-shouldered and imposing as he closed the space between us. I suddenly felt very small.

“You’ll take the money, then?” I asked, holding the envelope out again.

“No.” His response was blunt, absolute. He stepped closer, and I backed up until I bumped into the Valle counter.

“It’s your money, not his,” he said, his voice low and unyielding.

“You don’t know that,” I shot back, even though we both knew he was right.

“When someone borrows as much as your brother did, we don’t leave it to chance.” He glanced around the Valle, a flicker of disdain crossing his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” My chest tightened as I glanced toward Boris and Yogi, who leaned casually against the counter, watching us.

“If your brother doesn’t pay, we collect in other ways.” His voice was calm, almost conversational, but the meaning behind his words was anything but.

“No!” I stepped forward, anger overtaking fear. “You’re not touching this place. My parents built this Valle. You can’t—”

“Do you have the full amount?” His question cut through my protest like a knife.

I faltered, my throat dry. “There has to be another way.”

He took another step, his presence overwhelming.

“What would you do to keep your brother safe? To keep this place standing?” His tone softened, a dangerous edge laced in his words.

“What do you want?” I whispered, barely able to get the words out.

He reached out, his fingers tilting my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His dark eyes were steady, cold, and infuriatingly calm.

“What can you offer?”

“Me?” I asked.

“Done,” he said, stepping back abruptly.

“Wait, what?” My head spun as he turned away.

“What time does this place close?” he asked, ignoring my confusion.

“Seven,” I said numbly. “We close at six, but we’re done by seven.”

“A car will pick you up then. Don’t keep it waiting.”

“But—”

“Put that money back in the bank,” he interrupted, slamming his hand over the envelope. “You’ll need it later.”

I stared at him, unable to form a response.

“My name is Armani,” he said as he walked out.

I stood frozen, what just happened ? I asked no one in particular. The envelope crumpled in my hand. The Valle was still standing, for now and my brother was safe, for now.