Mastered (The Enforcers #1) (26 page)

“W-would you go with me to the doctor?” she whispered so the others wouldn't hear. “Zander seems to think you frighten me, but truthfully
he
scares me more than any of the others, and I would feel more comfortable, if I
must
go see this doctor, if you were with me instead of him.”

Silas went completely rigid, and she realized she'd just made a huge mistake. Damn her and her propensity for saying what was on her mind. She needed a gag stuffed into her mouth on a permanent basis.

“I'm sorry,” she said sincerely. “I've already interrupted your day with what is not anything remotely resembling a serious accident. I really should just go back to Drake's apartment and clean it up. Band-Aids are miracle cures, you know.”

“It would make me very unhappy to ever know that a woman like you ever feared me,” Silas said, as sincerely as she had spoken. “The fact that you don't fear me and in fact defend me to the others raises you in my esteem considerably. If having me with you makes you more comfortable, then I'll go. No further explanations are warranted or necessary. Now, I'm going to help you to the car. Zander can get back to the apartment with your bags on his own dime while Justice and I take you to the clinic.”

“You aren't a bad person, Silas,” she whispered. “In fact, I think you are a perfect gentleman. You'll never persuade me otherwise.”

A shadow fell over his eyes before he blinked it away, but in that shadow she saw past pain, memories, things that had shaped the man he was now. And then just because it seemed like the right thing to do, she hugged him, trapping his much larger frame against her smaller one, and squeezed hard.

“Thank you for coming so quickly. I'd rather Drake not know about this, but if we don't get moving, the dinner I'm supposed to prepare won't get done on time and I don't want Drake to be even more unhappy with me than he already is.”

Silas frowned. “I'm sure he will be more than understanding if you don't cook dinner at all, considering you injured your knee and who knows what else in your fall.”

Evangeline shook her head. “I don't even want him to know about this. Any of it. The day already started all wrong, and this will just ruin the entire evening. Can we just go and get it over with?”

In response, Silas merely picked her up, cradling her in his arms, and then ducked into the backseat of the car. Once he was settled, with her still on his lap, he put a pillow beneath the knee she'd injured and urged her to relax, saying that they were only a few minutes from Drake's apartment.

Evangeline sighed.
Welcome to Drake's world
should read more like
Welcome to Drake's insane world where nothing makes sense
.

Because there was nothing normal about being sprawled on the lap of a man who obviously inspired fear in others while being rushed to a private clinic, owned by Drake, an enormously wealthy and extremely secretive, mysterious man who now, according to him—and, well, acknowledged by her—owned her.

Crazy. It was the only word to describe her previously boring, uneventful, predictably dull existence.

Things like this just didn't happen to ordinary girls from small towns like the one she grew up in. Only it
was
happening, and it was all too real for her comfort level.

To Dr. McInnis's credit, he seemed to pick up on Evangeline's distress and agitation, though her constant muttering of this not being necessary probably clued him in more than anything.

He gave her a reassuring smile and told her he would have her in and out in no time at all and not to worry. But when he'd said she really needed a few sutures because the cut was quite deep and she risked infection if it was left open to bacteria, germs and God only knew what else, her anxiety soared.

It was Silas who calmed her down and said matter-of-factly that she was holding up the process. That if she were to simply relax and allow the doctor to do what he felt was necessary—and he was the doctor, after all—she could have already been finished and back to Drake's apartment.

She reached for his hand, more for her comfort than anything else, but she offered a grateful squeeze, wondering why she seemed to be the only one to see past this man's rigid exterior to the kind and gentle man underneath the outward facade. It was one likely perfected out of necessity. She sensed that about all of Drake's men. That perhaps none of them had come from the best backgrounds and that they'd all likely
scratched and clawed their way to success, earning every bit of the money and respect they commanded. They were certainly an odd group, ranging from the polish of Drake and the smooth words he always seemed to possess to the more crudely built and street-smart men like Zander and well, Justice. Just in a different way. Silas was a mysterious combination of Drake's polish and expensive manner of dress but with the edge Zander and some of the others possessed. But the one trait they all had in common was their don't-give-a-fuck-what-others-think attitude.

She had no doubt that while Silas had been nothing but patient and kind to her, he wasn't that way with many other people. She'd seen the hint of coldness in his eyes. And pain. Though she doubted he realized she'd picked up on it and would not be pleased to know she had.

But she was a people watcher. For girls like her, watching was as close to the lifestyles of others as she got, and she enjoyed a certain vicariousness of experiencing their worlds through watching them. As a result, she often saw far more than the average person looking on. She studied people, watched when they were unaware of being observed. It was at these times that most people allowed what they hid on a regular basis to slip and be more readily revealed.

It was presumptuous of her to think she knew anything about Silas or his past or his
raisons d'etre
. But she sensed an inner torment that went as far back as his childhood, and weren't most people shaped by their childhood? Their family or lack thereof, defenses learned early and the ability to shut others out and erect shields in order to survive.

She considered herself to be the person she was because of her upbringing, her parents' unconditional love and support and their constant guidance. Their convictions that they'd passed on to Evangeline. Her parents were good people. The best. She was one of the lucky ones, unlike Silas and, she imagined, the majority of Drake's men, if not Drake himself.

He was an aloof man who hid a passionate fire inside him. He felt
strongly about what he considered his own personal code. She didn't need a primer to know that. One only had to look at the man to figure out his past had more than likely shaped the man he'd become today. A man she was hopelessly attracted to and helpless to resist, even when her mind, or rather sanity, questioned her motives and her decisions and quite frequently demanded to know if she'd lost her ever-loving mind to have plunged so recklessly, without forethought or careful consideration, into such an extreme relationship with a man she barely knew.

And yet, even as she knew she had a long way to go before she would even scratch the surface of this complicated, mysterious man, she felt an eagerness and yes, a sense of challenge, to peel back layer after layer until she reached the heart of him. Only then would she fully understand what made Drake the unyielding, uncompromising and very dominant alpha male he was. None of which she considered bad traits. Not when they expressed themselves in such delicious ways.

Well, except she'd pissed him off and blatantly disobeyed him this morning and he hadn't sounded pleased with her at all. She sucked in her bottom lip, nibbling nervously as she considered the consequences of her actions and what Drake's response would be when he arrived home.

While her cooking might distract the best of them, she doubted Drake would be deterred if he planned to address the issue of her disobedience, something he'd said he wouldn't tolerate under any circumstances. And looking back, she knew that he was right and she'd been acting like a petulant, tantrum-throwing child out to prove a point by sulkily making the choice she had. She knew the rules. Knew them by heart. And Drake had been correct. All she had to do was pick up the phone and call him, tell him her wishes, and he more than likely would have been fine with it.

Remembering something he'd written in his note just made her feel even guiltier. He'd told her to stay in and rest and to have his man take
her shopping list out to get what she needed. His exact words had been,
I was hard on my angel last night
.

She sighed. He'd merely been taking care of her and it had been sweet. And she'd been a complete bitch, taking it the wrong way and bristling over the ridiculous fact that she couldn't even run to the market without a major security operation being launched.

She owed Drake an apology. A sincere one and not something designed to tell him what she thought he wanted to hear in order to placate him.

“Evangeline?”

Silas's worried tone cut into her silent reverie.

“Are you hurting? He's numbed the area, so you shouldn't feel anything when he sets the sutures, but if you do, you are to let us know immediately.”

The doctor looked up from where he was preparing to stitch her knee up, concern in his eyes. “I can give you a shot for pain. I plan to give you a shot of antibiotics and give you an ointment to apply three times a day. I don't think an oral antibiotic is warranted in this case; however, if you notice any redness, tenderness or swelling in the area and especially if you feel unwell and are running even a slight temperature, I want you back here immediately so we can put you on antibiotics.”

She offered a reassuring smile. “I'm fine. Truly. I don't feel anything at all. I don't need pain medication. I'm sure some ibuprofen will more than suffice if it hurts later. I was too busy thinking of all the mistakes I've made today to even register any discomfort in my knee. It kind of sucks when you realize you've been a sulky child, finding any ridiculous reason to be pissy.”

She said the last with a sigh and her lips turned down into a frown.

Silas's frown was more of a scowl, surprising her, because for the first time there was none of the gentleness she'd come to associate him with.

“Admittedly my acquaintance with you has been short, and we've not spent much time together, something I hope will be remedied when Drake loosens the leash he currently has you on.” Brief amusement replaced the scowl in his eyes, letting her know he was teasing her with the last of his words. “But the very last thing I would ever attribute to you is sulkiness or childishness. You are exceedingly honest and sincere, two qualities that have fallen by the wayside in society, unfortunately. Furthermore, you are completely unaware of the many good qualities you possess and seem baffled when someone pays you a compliment, as you are doing right now as I speak, judging by the look in your eyes.”

She flushed because she was precisely that.

“No one has ever given me compliments until recently,” she murmured.

“Then you clearly don't associate with the right people, and I'm willing to bet either the people you are exposed to are envious or, if they are men, they want very much to get a hell of a lot closer to you and you likely have no clue of that either, which angers them and is a blow to their fragile male ego.”

“Okay, you have to stop,” she said, becoming more uncomfortable by the minute.

But he didn't. He reached out with one finger and lifted her chin so she was forced to look at him and no longer avoid his gaze.

“What you are, Evangeline, is special. And if you ever disparage yourself in my hearing again, I'll turn you over my knee myself and spank that perfect ass until you promise me to forget all the negative words you have in your vocabulary when they come to describing yourself. Are we understood?”

Holy fuck! Oh shit. Now she was once more using words that would mortify her mother and cause her to wonder where she'd gone wrong in
Evangeline's upbringing since she'd been taught that no true lady ever used such vulgar language.

Her eyes were wide as she stared at Silas, no longer needing his hand to force her compliance. She saw the dominance glittering in his eyes as clearly as she saw it in Drake's. How had she missed it before now?
Gentle and kind, my ass.
Silas, Drake and, well, all of Drake's men, were dominant, almost surly, alpha males, but in the space of those few words Silas had so smoothly dropped on her, she saw a man who was likely far more dominant than the others. Perhaps even Drake, and that was incomprehensible to her.

She could now see the scary side that the others evidently saw and experienced on a daily basis, and here she was naïvely forming her assumptions based on two brief meetings when he'd acted the consummate gentleman.

She swallowed hard because she didn't think Silas was bluffing. There was no hint of amusement in his eyes. Only somber truth. And utter seriousness. And then, since her brain was fried, and she was to the point of babbling, she issued a ridiculous response.

“D-Drake would never let you!” she said in a shocked whisper. And to her further mortification, she realized the doctor was still there, stitching up her now-forgotten knee, and he'd been privy to the entire exchange between them.

His lips were quirked in amusement even as he never took his eyes from his job, and his hands were as steady as she'd ever seen.

Silas sent her a slight grin, only one corner of his mouth twitching to indicate what he thought of her naïve statement.

“Don't be so sure of what Drake will and won't allow, Evangeline. To do so will only lead to inevitable misunderstanding. I'm sure Drake has been very exacting in his requirements of you, the foremost being obedience. I'd say that covers a lot of uncharted territory, wouldn't you?”

Evangeline wanted to shriek. How the hell did Drake's men,
this
man,
know so much about what Drake had or hadn't told her? Or were his women—and his standards and expectations—so often rotated in and out that his needs and demands were common knowledge among his men?

Hell, did they run, own or belong to some kind of BDSM club? Did they all have memberships in some place where there were handbooks and rules for this kind of stuff and did they all adhere to the same “code”?

She wanted to pull her hair out and then cover her face and wish herself a million miles away, because this was becoming more disconcerting by the minute.

“You wouldn't hurt me,” she said in near desperation.

Silas's eyes softened. “No, Evangeline. I would never hurt you. Discipline doesn't have to equal pain. Unless that's your thing.” He shrugged. “People are into what pleases them. It's not for me to judge. But if you're asking if I will follow through with my threat? The answer is yes. I don't make idle threats. Ever. So yes, I will turn you over my knee and spank that ass if you ever talk shit about yourself in my hearing. If you don't want that to happen, the simple thing to do is not to say stupid shit, yeah? You got me?”

“I got you,” she choked out, because if he was anything like Drake, and it appeared he was, then he too would want the words and not shaking or nodding her head as an answer.

“You done?” Silas asked the doctor sharply.

The doctor looked to have already finished but was clearly immersed in Silas's exchange with Evangeline, because he was simply holding a bandage over Evangeline's knee while watching the two in fascination.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Just let me tape this over her knee.”

Then he looked only at Evangeline.

“Keep it covered for tonight. You can take the dressing off in the morning, but keep the area clean and apply the ointment as I instructed, and again, if you experience any of the problems or symptoms I listed, you are to come back to me immediately.”

Evangeline nodded, still discomfited by the much-too-public airing
of far-too-personal information. Did everyone who worked for Drake know every sordid detail of their relationship? Or were they merely guessing based on his past relationships?

It hit a raw nerve to think that her relationship, or whatever this was between her and Drake, was following some guideline or schedule he performed by rote, regardless of who his current woman was.