Chapter 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?”
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 your wife were 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 am not emotional.” 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.
Ian leaned forward, setting his glass on the table alongside my empty one before bracing both elbows onto his knees.
"Why did you introduce her to the lifestyle, never mind bring her here, if you weren't in a true Dom/sub relationship?
You know damn fucking well how it's viewed to mistreat such a relationsh—"
"The relationship I have with my wife is none of your concern, Marshall," I murmured, cutting him off with a lethal tone, but he was unrepentant.
Archer tilted his head in my direction. “Ian’s right, Gaven,” he said. “What's stopping the two of you from turning this ... facade"—he waved his free hand at the last word as he continued—“into an actual Dom/sub relationship?"
“I can’t very well trust a wife who betrays her husband the same night she took vows to obey him,” I ground out.
Archer whistled. “Well, damn, I didn’t realize she ran that fast,” he said. Of course not, I’d kept it under wraps.
“What did you do to scare her off?” Jensen asked. “You did make her come, right? The G-spot is—”
“I’m well aware of a woman’s G-spot, Jensen Travis,” I growled.
Ian hummed deep in his throat, finally sitting back in his seat, his hard expression shifting to be contemplative and thoughtful as he ran his hand over his jaw.
Jensen and Archer both eased, visibly relaxing back into their respective seats.
Their words had turned teasing rather than offensively tense.
“So, why do you think she’s fighting you now?” Ian asked.
That was the great question, wasn't it? Why?
I had my suspicions. Angel would never have hurt her father, even after being forced to marry a man such as myself.
And it wasn't that she couldn't—I had a feeling Angel was vicious enough when pushed to do what was needed .
.. including killing—but she had loved Raffaello Price.
Even I, who had never once ever thought of my family or known such love from a parent, saw that.