Page 17 of Cruel Master

“It doesn’t matter. Forget the boy,” I said, my voice deepening as I stared at the face of the man my wife had been meeting with the day I’d captured her. My hands curved into fists. Rage coursed through my veins. If she’d truly lived like a nun for the last five years, then he wasn’t a threat. Logically, I knew that. Still, I disliked the man simply because he was part of her current life—a life that hadn’t been reliant on me.

“Tell me, exactly, what kind of work she was doing.”

Archer sighed, seemingly blissfully unaware of just how close to unhinged I was becoming. “Did you not completely read through the first file?”

“I understand that she’s kept herself alive and on the run via a remote business. I know she meets with clients—what I don’t know is what she does for them.” She couldn’t be an escort, but what else would allow her to hop from country to country on short notice?

“She’s an accessory,” Archer said. “Or rather—I suppose she’d be considered a type of cleaner. She’s on the dark web and everything. Your girl is business-minded. She gets into contact with people who need assistance hiding or running from someone or something and helps them get out of their situations. If you scroll to the bottom of the document, you’ll see a list of some of the people I believe she’s helped in the past five years. Think of it like a witness protection program for criminals—or people who don’t trust the government.”

Before he’s even finished speaking, I’ve switched my computer screen over and moved down to the last few pages of the first document. A list of names, dates, places, and certain organizations appear—some familiar and some not. Mob wives. Scientists. Political enemies. B-list celebrities from across the world. Socialites. There are dozens of men and women alike.

“She’s hidden all of these people?” My brows drew down as I considered the list. It’s long. Impressive.

Archer’s voice echoed over the receiver. “Not necessarily hidden them all, but many came to her for assistance. It looks like her primary job was creating new lives, but for others, she helped to gather evidence to be used in defense of their abusers or enemies. She appears to be particular about her clients and Ronald Wiser is her newest one. He’s previously worked at Carpovel Pharmaceuticals, but now that he’s gone underground, there’s no telling what exact kind of mess he’s gotten himself into that he needed her help.”

“And you’re sure there was no other relationship between the two of them?” I demanded.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Archer replied. “I’m sure I’ll find him soon. It shouldn’t be too hard, but I’ve spent the last few days looking into your girl’s past and hacking her email server on the dark web. That took most of my time, seeing as the power walls I had to get behind. She’s—”

I cut him off. “Did she keep in contact with any other clients?”

“Hmmmm.” Clicking reached my ears. “Like I said, man, as far as I can tell, she’s been as single as a pringle for the last five years. Scar said she didn’t seem particularly interested in anyone who hit on her when she was working that bar in Cabo—in fact, she suspected that the job, too, was another way for her to gather evidence for a female Latin American politician being blackmailed by an ex-lover.”

Despite Archer’s assurance, a wicked jealousy stabbed into my chest. My hands clenched into fists against the surface of my desk. Needing to regain a bit of control, I pushed back against my seat and blew out a long breath. Archer’s information revealed more about her life since she’d left me. Beyond her beautiful face, she was clever. She was resilient.

“If you want, I’ll keep on the lookout for Ronny boy,” Archer continued. “And I’ll give you a ring when I have more, but until then—over and out, my friend.” With that, the phone call ended and I was left alone with my thoughts.

I set the cell on the surface of my desk and tilted my head back, my eyes focusing on the ceiling above my head. Considering all that she’d been through, I knew she had an inner core of steel. At eighteen, she’d been forced to marry me—a man nearly two decades her senior. She’d gone on the run and had managed to evade not only her sister, but me, for nearly five years.

Her innovation was impressive. She’d taken her skills and used them to solidify her safety, which I had to respect. She’d managed to turn her interests into a weapon and shield, playing in the shadows of the criminal underground without me at her side. It both enraged and aroused me. Her intelligence was a turn-on. It only served to solidify the need I had for her. When she finally did submit to me—the strong, incredible creature that she was—it would be the biggest accomplishment I’d ever had. The highest victory a man like me could achieve.

Evangeline was a woman of strong fortitude. Someone who could handle our dark world and I would be her Master, her Dom.

All I needed to do now was ensure that she accepted her fate.

9

ANGEL

Ifelt like a caged animal. Hell, I fuckingwasa caged animal. The longer I was locked in this room, the more insane I swore I would go. It had been several days since Gaven had come back. The only reason I knew that was because I’d been delivered food three times a day, every day. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner.

I’d never been claustrophobic, but now I was concerned that I would soon develop the fear. I was restless. Hungry for stimulation. Anything really. Even if it meant that Gaven came back and tortured me in that way of his. There was only so much TV a girl could watch, and it didn’t look like the reins of my new confinement were slipping. There wasn’t even an opportunity to escape.

The cameras made sure of it.

They had to be using them, too, because otherwise—how the hell would they know when I was distracted enough for them to deliver food? It was always when I was in the bathroom or asleep. When I woke up, breakfast would be there already. When I showered, lunch. For a while, I tried to sit in front of the door, waiting.

Nothing. Nada.

The second I’d given in to the urge to pee—I’d come back to fresh food. So, yes, someone must always be on watch. I could have destroyed the cameras, but then that would bring him back. Honestly, though, after the days of boredom and confined frustration—I was debating on it.

It was odd, too, that after so long dressing to cover myself, it only took a few short days of constant nudity for me to grow accustomed to being naked. Then again, the room was now bare of anything to cover myself with—so it wasn’t like I had a choice there either.

I wasn’t quite sure how Gaven had managed to remove the blankets and sheets without waking me, but I wouldn’t put it past him to put more of that drug in my food. My skin tingled with the need for something—anything. Pacing had grown old, and the books he’d left for me to read had left me feeling … certain things that I didn’t want to think about.

Whatever Gaven did to my body, remaining strong and resistant was my goal. To a certain point, anyway. I knew that feigning acquiescence too quickly would be suspicious. I had to maintain myself for at least a little longer to give him the illusion that he was breaking me. Once he thought he had control, then and only then could I escape.

After calling for Gaven multiple times and getting no response, I finally gave up and plopped down in one of the chairs to the side of the four-poster bed. Across the room, the chair that I’d woken up in was placed against the far wall—almost as if it was meant to be a constant reminder of what he could do to me again. After that first night, I’d half expected more deviant actions from my husband.

---