Not For Sale: The Debt Is Paid

Sarah Miller POV

Freedom, I discovered, felt lonely.

So, I adopted a dog.

Buster.

He was a pit bull mix with one ear, a heart of gold, and a face that looked terrifying-which was exactly what I needed.

We were walking near my new apartment at dusk when a black SUV rolled up to the curb.

My stomach dropped.

It wasn't just any SUV. It was armored. Bulletproof.

The rear window rolled down.

Michael.

He looked exhausted. His tie, usually impeccable, was crooked.

Buster growled, a low rumble vibrating in his chest.

Michael looked at the dog with undisguised disgust.

"What is that thing?"

"My dog," I said, tightening my grip on the leash. "Buster."

"Get in the car, Sarah."

"No."

He opened the door and stepped out. Two guards immediately flanked him.

People on the street stopped to stare.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice hard. "A Sit-Down."

"I'm not in the Family anymore, Michael. I don't do 'Sit-Downs.'"

"Coffee, then," he said, gritting his teeth. "Just coffee. Or I make a scene right here."

I looked at the guards. I looked at Buster.

A scene meant attention. Attention meant danger.

"Fine," I said. "The shop on the corner. Public place."

We walked there in tense silence, the guards trailing behind like shadows.

Inside, Michael ordered for me out of habit.

"Black coffee."

"I drink lattes," I corrected him.

"Since when?"

"Since always. You just never noticed."

We sat at a small metal table near the window.

Michael reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box. He slid it across the table.

"Happy Birthday," he said. "Late."

I opened it.

Sapphire earrings.

Huge. Expensive. And absolutely not me.

"I don't wear heavy earrings," I said. "They give me headaches."

"They cost fifty grand," he snapped. "Wear them."

I closed the box.

With a deliberate finger, I pushed it off the table.

It hit the floor with a sharp crack. The velvet burst open, and one of the sapphires skittered across the tile.

Michael's face flushed red.

"You ungrateful-"

"I'm not ungrateful," I cut in. "I'm just not for sale anymore."

He leaned forward, lowering his voice.

"Is this about Jessica? I told you, she's gone."

"She's in Gstaad," I said coolly. "Posting photos of the chalet you rented her."

He paused, blinking.

"How do you know that?"

"I have eyes, Michael."

"Did you leak the ledgers?" he asked suddenly.

His tone shifted, becoming dangerous.

"What?"

"Someone sent anonymous tips to the Feds about the shipping containers. Was it you? Is this your revenge?"

I laughed, a dry sound.

"I didn't leak anything, Michael. But maybe you should ask the girl you sent to Switzerland with your credit card."

He slammed his hand on the table.

"Jessica is loyal!"

"Jessica is a rat," I stated calmly. "And you're too busy looking at her legs to see her tail."

He stood up, looming over me.

"You are coming with me. We are going to City Hall. We are getting married. Today."

"Why?" I asked. "Because you love me?"

He hesitated.

Just for a second.

"Because you are mine," he growled. "Because I paid for you."

"That's not love, Michael. That's a receipt."

I stood up and grabbed Buster's leash.

"I'm going to order three caramel macchiatos to go."

"For who?"

"For my parents. And one for me."

"You're walking away from me?" he asked, incredulous. "I am a Capo. No one walks away from me."

"Watch me."

"Sarah," he called out.

He tried a new tactic.

His voice softened, and he looked at me with those dark eyes that used to make my knees weak.

"We were... we were happy once. Remember? When I saved your father. You looked at me like I was a hero."

"You were a hero," I said. "For about five minutes. Then you became a jailer."

"I can change," he pleaded.

It was a lie.

I could see it in the set of his jaw. He didn't want to change.

He just wanted his property back on the shelf.

"You're not a hero, Michael," I said finally. "You're just a boy playing with loaded guns."

I walked to the counter.

I ordered the drinks.

I paid with my own money.

When I turned around, he was still standing there, staring at the sapphire on the floor.

He looked small.

I walked out the door, the bell chiming brightly above my head.

I didn't run.

I walked.

And for the first time in seven years, I wasn't looking over my shoulder.