Page 38 of Cruel Master

Above, he’d been far more reserved. Then again, the crowd allowed down here was undoubtedly closer and far more vetted than those above. “That it is,” I said.

Ian and Jensen approached, though a bit slower, now with drinks in their hands as well. They, too, took their seats across from us. “Congratulations again,” I said. “The club above was marvelous, but the Dungeon … well, you have reason to be proud, Ian.”

“We all do,” Ian replied. “Archer designed the security system himself and Jensen helped build it.” I wasn’t surprised by that information—the three of them always had a hand in the work of the others. They moved as a unit, following his lead, but no one was ever left behind or out. It came as no surprise to me when they’d eventually married the same woman.

Now they were the proud owners of not only one of the most infamous Mafia Princesses of our world but the most exclusive BDSM Dungeon in New York. I looked around again. Only the richest and those vetted through multitudes of background checks and interviews who lived the lifestyle were allowed access to this level. This was a place outside of the wars and secrets, and there was no reason to hide connections and emotions when dealing with friends or business partners.

"So, how's it been going with you?" Archer asked, sipping his drink and leaning back against the dark cushions of his chair.

"Good," I stated. Silence met my response. Jensen and Archer both raised a brow in question before exchanging a speaking glance.

"And...?" Archer prodded.

“And nothing,” I said. I sipped my drink, reveling in the slight burn as it trailed down my throat and warmed my chest.

“That’s bullshit,” Jensen commented. “Don’t think we didn’t see the way you and yourwifewere acting around each other.”

Archer eyed me but didn’t say anything in response to his friend’s comments. Despite their closeness, I was appreciative that he hadn’t spread the word when I’d asked for his assistance. Though, I knew the circumstances would have been different had it affected their little group.

“Yes, well, there were complications, but she’s back,” I said. “And she’s not leaving again.” Not if I had to break her fucking legs and tie her to the end of my bed.

“I take it she’s … resistant?” Ian asked.

"She’ll learn.” I drained my glass, the alcohol burning worse this time. Either it had gotten stronger or the direction of this conversation was quickly souring my mood.

“Women are strange creatures,” Ian said with a knowing look. “When you think you’re teaching them a lesson they need to learn to survive, they’ll turn around and you’ll find yourself the one learning something new.”

It occurred to me that for these three men, America had also run from them. I leaned forward in my seat, setting my now empty glass on the table between us. “She's more stubborn than she used to be,” I admitted.

That earned a snort from Archer and an even higher brow raise from Jensen. “Are you really that surprised?” Archer asked.

Before I could reply, Ian spoke. “She’s been away,” he said. “She evaded you for years; from what I recall, she did a pretty decent job of it if it took you this long to capture her.”

I thought of that. Yes, it had been particularly difficult to track Angel down. Every time I thought I’d gotten close, she’d disappear again. I was always one step behind, and I wasn’t used to that. When she’d run headfirst into me on that sidewalk the week before, I’d felt such a rush—both of relief and of triumph. Never before had the high of a victory felt so intense. It’d meant more than any job I’d ever managed to accomplish. It was a different kind of achievement.

“You just need to fuck her and make her come,” Jensen said. “Once a woman realizes she can’t get what you can give her anywhere else, she’ll stay put.”

I arched a brow. “That worked well for you the first time, did it?”

He blinked, long and slow, and then, it hit him. Red filled his face and he sat up. “Now, listen here, motherfucker, I didn’t—”

“That’s enough, Jensen,” Ian snapped, cutting off his friend. “Don’t let him rile you up.”

“Yeah.” Archer laughed. “It’s too easy to do anyway.” And as if Ian and Archer had planned it, Jensen turned and laid into his friend. Archer listened to Jensen rant and ramble, leaving Ian and me to consider each other in near silence.

“I have no intention of prying into your relationship with your wife, Gaven,” he said after a beat, “but a man has to wonder—with you bringing her here—if you're not hoping to control her with the lifestyle.”

“She’s mine to do with what I wish,” I replied coolly.

Ian’s dark gaze leveled with mine. Cold. Impenetrable. He reminded me, more than Archer or Jensen, of myself—certainly, at least, a younger version of myself. “You’ve always treated the women you’ve taken as subs rather coldly, Gaven,” he said. “Archer tells me that this is the first time he’s ever seen you so … emotional.”

My upper lip curled back. “I amnotemotional.” The very notion was sickening.

Ian didn’t blink. His gaze didn’t waver. Fuck. Perhaps I’d been too strong. I forced my shoulders to loosen and relaxed into the cushioned chair. “For a man who was disinterested in prying, you certainly like to comment on things that are none of your business,” I said.

“I’m merely making observations, Mr. Belmonte,” Ian replied. “If they resonate with you—you’re right, that’s none of my business.”

Damn him,I thought. “What do you want to know?” I demanded. The air grew thick, and I noted that the conversation between Jensen and Archer had fallen to the wayside. The two of them were watching us without pretense. It was blatant.

---