Chapter 63
Angel's eyes lower and her free hand makes a small fist on the table. During my years as a police officer, I learned the best way to get an answer is silence after the question. I wait, making each second seem like a minute.
She replies abruptly without looking at me. "I was married to an older man when I was young and-"
I break the golden rule of interview and interrogation and interrupt. "How young?"
Her delicate gulp before answering tells me a lot. "Sixteen."
"Go on," I say and pick up my glass again. I suddenly realize I need the fog the alcohol brings as much as Angel does. She was fucking sixteen when she went to some dirty old man. I need to have a grip on the sudden burst of anger that's spreading through me.
Angel glances up and I'm suddenly caught in her web of what's made her who she is. "My mother died, and my father sold me at the request of his remaining wives." The hurt drips off her in waves of misery. I remain quiet so she'll continue. "I was the third wife." She looks away for a moment before lifting her eyes again. "They were kind to me. My life was similar to what I lived at my father's home. The first two wives did not produce children and it was hoped, with my youth, I could give him sons. This did not happen." Her eyes are dark blue pits of desolation and the pain grips me deep. "Five years later, my husband died. I was given to bad men as payment for his debt. I was with them for only a short time when you found me. I do not wish to remember that time."
I'll allow her to avoid going in-depth to that "short time." "Where do you inherit your blue eyes?"
Relief flashes in her gaze and she takes a long steadying breath. "From my mother."
"Was she American?" I ask gently.
"British."
"How did your parents meet?"
Angel takes another small drink of wine. "My father traveled. My mother sang opera and he attended a show with his business partners. They fell in love and he married her."
This raises other questions. "How did she feel about his other wives?"
In a very unlike-Angel gesture, she shrugs. "She was pregnant with me when they returned to his home and it was too late for her to do anything but accept his life. She loved him until the day she died but never truly understood his culture. She was often sad."
"Did he love your mother?"
A soft smile appears on her face. "Yes, very much."
I'm like her mother and have absolutely no understanding of her father's culture. "Then why would he marry you off so young?"
Again, a small shrug. "Wives have little power, but they can make their husband's home a heaven or hell. His wives made up their minds that I must go."
I'm letting this line of questioning go and getting down to what truly matters. "Were you happy with your husband?"
Now her eyes are more beseeching because I'm guessing she doesn't like the question but she answers, "Much of the time, yes."
"What about the other times?" It's the other times that I truly want to know about.
Angel rests one hand flat on the table and I'm suddenly fascinated with her long delicate fingers. I lift my eyes back to hers when she continues speaking. "Unlike many wives, I was educated. I read books when younger and had... princess dreams." Red tinges her cheeks at the end of her statement.
My lips quirk into a soft smile because she has opened up to me and made it more than me pulling out the information. "What kind of princess dreams?"
An incredible smile is part of my answer. "La bella y la bestia."
Ah, I'm suddenly getting the whole picture. "Did Monroe turn into the prince when you fell in love with him?"
Her expression changes completely and her lips actually quiver when she answers. "Master has many demons, and he will always be the beast."
That's Monroe in a nutshell. A beast with demons. "Tell me about the time after I found you."
She looks away and takes a long pull from her wine. "It was not a good time," she finally answers and looks back at me with dread.
"I need to know, Angel. It's important."
"Your country is very different." Her fingers tap nervously against the table. "When I was young and began my menses, my hair was covered due to the culture. It is because of my mother that I was not circumcised."
Just the thought makes me flinch. God, I never really thought about that horrible custom. I'm relieved she didn't suffer the fate of so many other young women. "Your mother held that much control?"
Angel gives a small nod. "This is how I know my father loved her. Even as a third wife, she ruled our home and got her way."
"Why didn't you go home to your father after you were freed from the slavers?"
She lowers her eyes again. "Ma... my shame will not allow me to go home." The tremble of her lips says so much. Shame. I know it's because of what those men did to her and the other women in that basement.
I cover her fidgeting hand. "You carry no shame, Angel. What happened was outside your control."
She won't look at me. "It remains a shame I carry."
I'll leave this issue for later. "You feel more comfortable with your body covered, but you agreed to be naked at the exhibition?"
Her long eyelashes flutter a few times, alerting me to added nervousness. "Yes. Master requests this of me."
"You could make it a hard limit."
"Master decides."
I grit my teeth. "No, you decide."
Her eyes jerk up to mine. "You are angry."
Fuck, I'm more than angry. "Yes, I'm angry but not at you, and I'm trying to understand. How do you feel about having sex with me?"
"Master wishes that I please you."
I almost explode and it takes everything I have to hold it back. "I don't care what Monroe wishes! If you don't want to have sex with me, it's your choice."
Her voice drops to a mere whisper and I almost don't hear what she says. "Then you will think me bad for wanting it."
My heart races and I inhale deeply to control my emotions. "No," I say gently. "I don't think it's bad at all, but I'm having difficulty understanding." It's the honest truth. The entire slavery thing is putting my thoughts on a high ledge with no net below.
The tiniest smile curves her beautiful mouth. "Master told me of you when he brought me here."
"What did he tell you?" I shouldn't have asked, but I'm curious about every aspect of her relationship with Monroe. I might not like it but I need to know more.
"That you were his friend."
That answer is not what I wanted to hear but hell... I actually have no idea about what I want. "Why did Monroe go looking for you?"
She raises her glass and drinks the last of her wine. The glass lowers and our gazes lock.
"He told me he did it for you."
For the strangest reason, that pisses me off. "I don't think you being his slave has anything to do with me."
Her tone turns surprisingly sharp. "I believe it has everything to do with you."
I change the subject once more. "Do you understand everything Monroe wants?"
"Master is gone one night and you used my body. He considers you more than a friend, but I cannot explain this. He said you've shared women in the past."
Monroe and his suddenly loose lips. "Yes, we have but at separate times, never together. Does he think we will each have a special night and this relationship will work for all of us?" This is only one of the horror stories running through my head.
Angel's expression changes to perplexity. "I do not know all his thoughts. I only know he asked me to please you."
"So, you pleased me?" I snap.
She cringes slightly and I feel like an asshole. "He asked this of me but also told me to please myself."
The angry inside me instantly recedes. "What pleases you?" I ask in a much gentler tone because I damn sure want to know.
Her eyes go hot and the pulse in her throat beats faster. "Anything you desire."
I don't know why my thoughts completely turn on their axis. This situation will never work, but until Monroe returns, Angel has a new master.
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