Page 53 of Cruel Master

“Be careful what you wish for, Scar,” a man’s voice echoed back to us, making me jump. “If it’s a baby you want, I’m more than happy to provide.”

Scarlett’s lips curved into a slow, sensual smile as she moved towards the man I now spotted further into the apartment, at a set of tables and desks pushed together and topped with a multitude of computers. The woman I remembered from Italy—elegant, seductive, and always in control—morphed into someone else entirely right before my eyes. She practically drifted across the floor towards him, circling the tables to wrap her arms around his neck and shoulders before leaning down for an open-mouthed kiss.

I waited a beat … and then another … and another. They didn’t stop until I cleared my throat as discomfort got the better of me. Scarlett lifted her head from the man’s lips and looked at me with an almost fuzzy gaze. Her eyes were slightly unfocused and even as she drew her arms back, I noticed that she still stayed near the man.

Two years ago, she’d been a single woman on the prowl—looking for her next sugar daddy or her next victim. I hadn’t quite approved of her choice of career, but on my own, it was hard enough to make friends, and well … those in glass houses shouldn’t exactly throw stones.

“Eve, this is my husband, Hadrian.”

I moved forward around the tables and paused before them, extending my hand to the man. “It’s Angel, actually,” I said. “Eve’s just an alias.”

Scarlett chuckled. “Giving away all of your secrets now, huh?”

I shrugged. “It’s not really a secret anymore—or at least, it won’t be soon.” Because now that I was back in that city, now that I was back here, I realized something.

I didn’t fucking want to leave. I didn’t want to run anymore. I wasn’t as scared as I thought I was. I’d already killed once; what was another? In the end, I wanted Jackie to pay for what she’d done. She didn’t deserve our father’s empire—not after she had killed him to get it.

Warm, masculine fingers brushed my knuckles before Hadrian’s palm connected with mine. “Angel?” Bright cerulean blue eyes met mine as the man’s head tilted. His hand tightened. “As in Evangeline Price?”

I met his gaze directly and took a breath. “Yes,” I said. “I’m Evangeline Price.”

25

ANGEL

Hadrian was a handsome man, with a wicked grin that matched Scarlett’s. I could see why she’d fallen for him. He was a tall, wiry, muscled man with dark hair cut short around the back and longer at the top of his head. As my name crossed my lips and his eyes lit on me, a spark of recognition entered his eyes. The hand that gripped mine tightened—unrelenting—and it only made me want to tighten my own grasp in return.

He blinked as if realizing what he’d instinctively done before releasing me. “Sorry about that,” he said with a careful laugh as he scrubbed the back of his head and took a step back. “It’s good to meet a friend of Scar’s, I just never anticipated that you’d be—”

“Related to the mob?” I arched a brow. “Why not? She is a world-renowned thief, isn’t she?”

Scarlett laughed. “Not so much anymore,” she admitted, stepping between us. I saw the look she cast Hadrian’s way—it was a mixture of a question and a warning. As if she was both asking what the fuck his problem was and to not cause any issues.

If I was going to actually move forward with my current forming plan—stay in America, go after my sister, and take my life back—I’d need to get used to it. People were going to react whether I wanted them to or not, just to my name. My real name and not the one of many I’d used over the last five years. There was a power that came with truth—with my name and what it was attached to.

“Now, what did you need help with?” Scarlett asked, redirecting herself to me as she backed against one of the tables and leaned on it, crossing her arms over her chest. Hadrian’s gaze snapped to the expanse of the chest that the shirt she wore allowed him—dipping down low in a V-neck above low-rise jeans.

I wondered if that was something Gaven did when we were together—and I was clothed, of course.

“I have a client outside,” I said.

“Criminal Witness Protection?” Scarlett snickered. It was a name she’d dubbed my business two years ago when I’d explained what I did.

I shook my head. “You know I deal with more than criminals; I deal with people who can’t rely on their governments for protection. I help them disappear when needed.”

Hadrian spoke up, focusing back on me. “Is that what this client needs?”

I grimaced. “Not exactly. This one is a bit more complicated. Ronald is a scientist working for a company here in New York. He’s developed a new product that medical corporations are going to want to use, but he wants to give the product out for practically free.”

Hadrian frowned and scratched at the shadow of a beard forming on the underside of his jawline. “What’s the product?”

“Organs,” I said. “Scientifically grown to suit the needs of a specific individual.”

A low whistle shot through the room. “Shit, yeah, there’s no fucking way a corporation is gonna let something like that go to market without having their hand in it, and definitely not for free. Something like that will make millions.”

“Think billions,” I replied with another shake of my head. “They want his formula for how to do it and they want him gone.”

“They’re trying to kill him,” Scarlett surmised.

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