Chapter 17 #2
Her sister, the conniving bitch that she was, on the other hand, held no such sentiments.
She’d been jealous—was still jealous as far as I could tell.
Jacquelina Price had quickly shown her viciousness and sly nature following her father’s demise.
She had snatched up the Price Family out from under me with gleeful intent.
She most definitely would have had the balls to murder her father, force her sister out, and ostracize one of the most sought-after hitmen in her plot to take over the family business.
"Gaven?" Archer's voice cut into my thoughts, and I looked back at the three waiting men.
"There's more at stake, more players in the game than just Angel and I," I stated simply, not wanting to give away too much information.
Ian smirked, knowing full well what I was doing.
"The option is simple then, isn't it?" It was my turn to raise a brow at his cryptic bullshit question.
His cruel grin widened when he saw my confusion.
"Eliminate whatever it is that's in the way, whatever—or whoever—drove her away in the first place.
Then, she'll have no need to keep running, no? "
Mimicking how Ian had sunk back into his chair, I mulled his words over. I had always planned on going after Jacquelina. She had to pay for what she’d done to Raffaello as well as Evangeline. Then there was the fact that she stood in the way of what was rightfully mine. The Price Empire.
Perhaps all I needed to do now was push up my timeline. Maybe then Angel would feel safe enough to come to me on her own, to reveal her truth, to stay.
“Mare.” My attention was dragged from my thoughts by Ian’s tone. I looked up as Ian stood. Archer and Jensen followed. I trailed their focus to the front of the ladies’ locker room to see that America had emerged and was smiling as she walked towards us.
As she approached, her attention switched from her men to me. Her eyes tightened and her lips firmed. “Gaven.”
“America.”
“You know what you’re supposed to call Doms in the club, Mare,” Ian chastised her.
America flushed and then nodded my way. “My apologies, Sir. It’s good to see you.”
“You look beautiful, America.” Though she looked nothing like my Angel, I meant the words. America was a stunning woman. Slightly rounded, curvy, with long light brown strands framing her face down to her tits. I paused as I stopped on her stomach and the obvious bump there.
“Thank you, Sir,” America replied.
“Let’s go,” Jensen said, moving for her as he wrapped an arm around her side. “I have a scene I want to do with you, sweetheart.”
“A scene?”
“A naughty scene,” Archer replied, bending against her opposite side and pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
Ian lingered a moment behind as Archer and Jensen led their wife away.
“If you want what we have, Gaven,” he said, capturing my attention once more, “I suggest you talk to your wife. Find out the truth. Someone has to give in first. Trust is the only way a relationship such as the one you’re seeking works. ”
“I’ve never needed to trust my subs before—not the same way I have to trust Angel,” I admitted. “Our relationship is different.”
“Because it’s forever,” he replied. Then, without another word, he followed after his men and his wife, and I was left to wait for the woman I’d sent in long before America.
I sighed and stared down at my empty glass.
No doubt she was waiting for a plethora of reasons—was she looking for an exit?
Or was she nervous about stepping out dressed in the clothes I’d requested?
I had to admit that the idea of parading my wife around the Dungeon in lingerie was both a source of pained jealousy and prideful arousal.
I wanted others to see her, to want her, and to know that if they ever dared to touch her, I would slice their insides open and hang them with their own intestines.
A beat passed and just when I was sure I’d have to send one of the waitresses in to retrieve her, the door finally opened. I stood up as a flash of white appeared. My mouth went dry. Angel stepped out of the locker room and scanned the lobby—seeking me out.
Her eyes found mine, and I felt my cock twitch in my pants. Fuck, but she was delicious. The perfect bundle of innocent white. She wasn’t innocent anymore, though. I knew that. She wasn’t the same woman I’d married, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t pretend sometimes.
I was so much older than her, and even if half a decade had passed since I’d last seen her as the virginal young woman forced to marry a man eighteen years her senior, I had to at least acknowledge that she had matured.
As she moved towards me, her hips swaying, the white strings of her thong tightening on her sides with each step, I had to stop myself from coming in my pants like an untried youth.
She didn’t stop until she stood before me, her face tilted up to reveal the light pink shade that was spread over her cheeks.
Embarrassment? I smiled. I liked that hint of humiliation she felt.
I knew that if I were to put my fingers between her thighs she wouldn’t be nearly as shy as she appeared. She’d be wet and ready for the taking.
"You look beautiful, wife," I murmured. A man passed, a young redhead on his arm. Despite that, his attention strayed and lingered on Angel’s ass.
A bolt of rage struck me. At the same time, another feeling rose from the depths.
Pride. Possessiveness. He could look, but he could never have what was always meant to be mine.
I stepped forward until my front was right against hers.
Her lashes lowered as I wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and brought her face into my chest. This stubborn, feisty woman was mine.
Tonight, I intended to show her just how much she was missing when she ran .
.. and just how much she would crave me going forward for the rest of our married life.
Because Angel was tied to me, now and forever.
'Til death would we part.