The Fallen Heiress's Debt to the Billionaire

The door clicked shut. The silence in the room was heavy. It pressed against Felicity's ears.

She was still on the floor. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself. She was shaking so hard her teeth chattered.

Dewitt stood over her. He looked at the exposed skin of her back where the dress had torn completely. He saw the map of bruises. Old yellow ones. Fresh purple ones.

He felt a muscle in his jaw jump.

His eyes narrowed at the jacket she was clutching-Barnett's. With a motion of pure revulsion, he ripped the garment from her shoulders and tossed it into the corner as if it were contaminated. He took off his own suit jacket. He dropped it over her.

"Put it on," he said.

Felicity flinched as the heavy fabric landed on her. She grabbed the lapels, pulling it tight. It smelled like sandalwood and expensive tobacco. It smelled like safety.

She tried to stand up. Her ankle gave way. She gasped.

Dewitt made a noise in his throat. Impatience.

He reached a hand down to help her.

Felicity scrambled back. She pushed herself along the floor until her back hit the wall. Her eyes were wide, terrified.

"Don't touch me!"

Dewitt's hand froze in mid-air. His eyes narrowed.

"I'm not him," he said coldly.

He withdrew his hand. He walked to the mini-bar and poured a glass of water. He didn't pour whiskey. He poured water.

He walked back and held it out.

"Drink this. Then fix yourself up. I don't want Henderson finding a corpse in the guest room."

Felicity looked at the glass. Then at him. She slowly reached out. Her hand shook so much that water sloshed over the rim.

She took the glass and drank. She drained it in one go.

"Thank you," she whispered. Her voice sounded like sandpaper.

Dewitt walked to the velvet armchair in the corner. He sat down and lit a cigarette. He crossed his legs.

"You have five minutes," he said.

Felicity blinked. "You're... staying?"

"This is my room," Dewitt said. "And I don't trust you not to steal the silverware."

It was a lie. He was staying because he saw the way she looked at the window. He was staying because he didn't trust her not to jump.

Felicity grabbed the front of his jacket. She stood up, leaning heavily on her good leg.

She limped into the bathroom and locked the door.

Dewitt listened to the click of the lock. He took a drag of his cigarette. His hand was trembling slightly. Just a little.

He looked at the blood on the carpet.

He pulled out his phone. He texted Henderson.

Bring a first aid kit. And a woman's outfit. Something warm. Now.