Page 37 of Cruel Master

Mare glanced at me. “Are you ready?” she asked.

“That’s the second time you’ve asked me that,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” she agreed. “You lied the first time, though.”

I blinked and then met her gaze. Light brown irises flecked in gold swarmed with warmth and understanding. Perhaps it was because of her connection to me—the Perellis and the Prices—but I had a feeling she knew more about my situation with Gaven than she let on.

“It’s just the first time I’ve ever actually done this,” I said. “The nerves … you know how it is.” I silently prayed she wouldn’t press.

She looked over at me with a contemplative expression on her face. The silence between us was stifling, but I didn't try to break it, unsure of what was running through her mind.

"You and Gaven aren't the typical Dom and sub, are you?" she finally asked.

The question was blunt and it proved my theory. Maybe I was losing my edge. I'd thought I’d mastered the lessons my friend had taught me. Two years ago, Scarlett had done her best to teach me every trick she’d had when we’d met in Italy. As one of the best thieves in the world, she understood the importance of masking one's emotions. Now, though, I felt them overwhelming me, spilling out. Ever since Gaven had swept me off the streets and kidnapped me, I'd found that hard-won control slipping more and more.

"Don't worry, it isn’t obvious. Not to anyone else, anyways," Mare explained when I didn’t immediately reply. "But I see a bit of myself in you, Angel.”

“Do you?” I didn’t know what to say to that.

“I do, and if you want my advice … mafia princess to mafia princess? Stop trying to escape it.” I stiffened at that, but she continued. “We were both forced into a life we never wanted, but there’s really no point in running from it. You are who you are, and I am who I am. When I stopped running … when I turned around and finally fought back, I found it easier to live. Gaven Belmonte's reputation precedes him, so if I'd have to guess he's a bit more … hands-on than my men were, but still … trust me. When you finally accept it, the rest comes naturally.”

There was a rawness to her words. Gently said, but still, they cut me deep and flayed me open, revealing things I’d rather have kept hidden. My fears. My anxiety. My anger.

Stop running?

Stop trying to get away?

I couldn’t do that … could I? It was as if all of my darkest secrets I'd tried to hold onto, to hide within the depths of my soul, had tumbled out for all to see … or at least for this woman to see.

“If you ever need help, I’m sure you have a friend or two—you don’t seem the type to go solo for long. And even if you don’t, you can always ask for me. I’d be happy to help you, Angel. There should be more of us in this world willing to lend a hand. It’s lonely and dark enough as it is.” Before I could even respond, America stepped back and left the locker room with one final smile.

I wasn't sure how long I stood there, ruminating over what she said, but for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn't feel quite so alone. I wondered if she was right. Could I reach out and ask for help? Would that make a difference? I bit my lip. I still hesitated about opening up to Gaven and telling him the truth. It would put him in unnecessary danger.

For now, though, I didn’t need to think about it. All I needed to do was walk out there and present myself to my Dom.

To Gaven … my Master.

17

GAVEN

Ineeded a drink. Something strong, I realized as I watched Angel leave and head towards the locker room, her hips swaying in that natural way of hers. She likely didn’t even realize it, but every move she made was goddamn sensual.Had it been a mistake to bring her here?

Almost as soon as I’d had that thought, the object of my need came to me. A rather young-looking waitress stopped at my side, her eyes carefully downcast and the plain collar around her throat marking her as a submissive in service to the club. She offered a drink from her tray and I took one.

Ian had certainly gone all out for the opening of the ground-level club and the Dungeon below it. Nodding to the young woman, I picked up one of the crystal glasses.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Sir,” the sub said before moving away, carrying her tray over to another set of men lingering nearby. There were plenty of us—men and women, Doms and Dommes—waiting for their submissives to emerge before they entered the Dungeon’s play floor.

Carrying the glass of amber-colored liquid closer to the main lobby of Ian’s new club, I peered through the glass to the inside and lifted the alcohol to my lips. Spiced whiskey touched my tongue and burned easily down my throat. All out, indeed.

I sighed and took a seat in one of the plush armchairs nearby. A familiar face walked out of the nearby elevators and moved in the direction of the locker room. I smiled as I spotted America, previously Perelli, now Marshall-Travis-Petrov, as she strode into the women's locker room.

As if I’d conjured the men, Ian, Archer, and Jensen stepped out of the elevator behind her. Archer was the first to spot me as he lifted his hand in greeting.

“Gaven!” he called as he turned and headed right for me—stopping only when the waitress moved towards them. He grinned down at her and took a drink for himself before finishing the journey. He dropped down into the chair to my right and blew out a breath. “What a night, right?”

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