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“Silence,” I hissed, cutting Bart off before he could ask for another extension. “May I remind you that I made it clear a month ago that there would be no extra time, and you assured me you would have the money.”

“Yes, but-”

“I told you to be silent.”

Bart’s mouth clamped shut, his eyes dropping to his lap. Placing my hands behind my back, I paced the room, calculating in my head estimates of what I could sell their belongings for and working out how they could repay the rest. They would have to sell their precious home as a starting point.

As I paced near their oak fireplace, my gaze snagged on an ornate silver photo frame sitting on the mantel. But it wasn’t the frame that held my attention.

It was the photo inside.

Like a magnet pulling me in, I stomped over to it and grabbed it, lifting it until the photo was only an inch from my face. The world stopped turning as a feeling stirred deep within me that I’d never felt before. A feeling like someone had reached into my chest and was squeezing my heart.

My breath stuttered as I stared at the girl, her bright silver eyes boring straight into me and piercing my soul. I’d never seen eyes as beautiful and haunting as hers, and I knew that when I went to sleep from then on, they would be all I saw.

The girl, no older than eighteen or nineteen at a guess, was captured in a moment of happiness as the sun set behind her, engulfing her in a golden glow. Her plump pink lips were pulled into a dazzling smile, showcasing her perfect white teeth, and a rosy blush coated her high cheekbones. Long, blonde hair surrounded her pixie-shaped face, cascading around her shoulders and breasts until it reached her slim waist.

She looked like an angel. An angel sent to pull me from the darkness I’d been born into and had remained in for the last twenty-eight years.

My angel.

“Who is this?” I asked, not tearing my gaze away from the picture. When several beats passed, and no one answered, I begrudgingly tore my eyes away, looking expectantly at the Astors.

“That’s our daughter, Charlotte,” Sybil replied, a quiver in her voice.

A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. “How old is she?”

“Mr. Du Pont-”

“Her age, Bart,” I growled. “How old is she?”

“She turned seventeen a few weeks ago.” A muscle twitched in his jaw as he chose wisely to answer my question.

Returning the photo to the mantel, I stepped away, my brain racing ahead with ideas. In the eyes of the law of Ohio, my angel was old enough to consent to intercourse, but a year too young for me to marry. And I knew, right then, that one day, Charlotte Astor would become my wife.

Once my mind was made up, there was no changing it. One way or another, my angel would belong to me, but not tonight. I would wait until she was old enough to sign her name on our marriage certificate, and only then would I allow myself to indulge fully in her.

To claim her and never let her go.

Stopping in front of the Astors, Bart peered nervously up at me, while hope shone in Sybil’s eyes. “From my last calculation, including interest, you owe me five million dollars.” I glanced between the pitiful pair, keeping my tone stoic and giving nothing away. “I’m willing to give you a choice as to how you pay that money back. Be assured, though, you will be paying me back.”

Sybil’s tits puffed up as if the hope in her eyes had traveled through her body and expanded like a balloon. Bart, however, tensed as he meekly asked, “What are our choices?”

I made a show of looking around the room and inhaling a deep breath. “There are items in here that will fetch a decent amount at auction. I imagine you have other items in the house that are worth a fair price and will likely pay off half of what you owe me. As for the other half, you can sell this house, your cars, and every piece of jewellery you own. That is likely to cover the total owed.”

Sybil shot to her feet. “Mr. Du Pont, that is everything we own. We’ll be homeless!” She toyed with the three gold necklaces dangling around her neck, the diamonds on each of them glittering under the giant chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

I shrugged. “I fail to see how that is my concern.”

Bart pulled his wife back into her seat before scrubbing a hand down his face. Tears filled Sybil’s eyes as she glanced around at her heirlooms. The Astors were from the same world I was, a world where old money ruled, and anyone who didn’t fit into the elite society was regarded as nothing but shit on shoes.

A big reason as to why I preferred the isolation that Du Pont Island brought me. I didn’t care for money. I had plenty of it, but it didn’t bring me happiness. Nothing did.

I had a feeling that would soon change.

“What’s our other option?” Bart reluctantly asked.

“I take your daughter.”