His Captive Mistress

His Captive Mistress A Filthy Billionaires Novel Evelyn Austin Gwen Taylor is the angel who stepped unknowingly into my dark domain one night. And me? I am the devil. She’s a journalist on the hunt for the story that threatened to destroy my world. So I handled it by taking her captive. Now, she belongs to me. And when hatred flashes in those emerald eyes, I can’t help but crave taming that fiery spirit. I’ll train her to submit to me, satisfy my every dark desire. Even as she surrenders her body, I find myself wanting more. But...could an angel ever give her heart to the devil? Table of Contents Title Chapter 1 Dark Domain Chapter 2 Dom Chapter 3 Flirtexting Chapter 4 Scandal in the Making Chapter 5 Imprisoned Chapter 6 Compliance Chapter 7 Exposed Chapter 8 Business Chapter 9 YOLO Chapter 10 Glow Up Chapter 11 Dinner Chapter 12 The Playroom Chapter 13 Conditions Chapter 14 Veto Chapter 15 Tears Chapter 16 Aftercare and Afterglow Chapter 17 Surveillance Chapter 18 On the Menu Chapter 19 Anticipation Chapter 20 It’s Just Begun Chapter 21 Pain Chapter 22 The Hard Truth Chapter 23 Beg For It Chapter 24 Obscura Chapter 25 Knotty Desires Chapter 26 Display Chapter 27 Private Affairs Chapter 28 Up in the Air Chapter 29 Paradise Chapter 30 Dumbfounded Chapter 31 The Hard Truth Chapter 32 Obligations Chapter 33 Accountability Chapter 34 Reckoning Chapter 35 Penance Chapter 36 Devil’s Advocate Chapter 37 Forgiveness Chapter 38 Heaven Chapter 39 Cassie Copyright Chapter 1 Dark Domain Present Everyone, at least once in their life, has wondered how it’s going to end. Me? At this point, I’m certain of the when, if not exactly the how. I know I’ll be dead very soon, probably in the next few hours, if there’s any mercy. No, I can’t think like that. There might still be a chance for me to get out of this. For me to get away. I try to suck in a deep breath, but the air is too thick to draw into my lungs. It feels like I’m suffocating. Like the walls of the car trunk are closing in on me. My mind swirls, but I work hard to stave off the panic. I can feel it crawling up my throat, icy and bitter. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. One. Two. Three… I don’t even stop to consider why this happened, because I already know. I’m a journalist, working on what may have become my breakthrough story. In my research, I uncovered some dark secrets. Secrets that powerful people would rather keep hidden. And now I’ve paid the price for it. Maybe the ultimate price. No. As bleak as things look right now, I have to believe I’ll find a way out of this somehow… some way. Several Weeks Ago I’m so unbelievably excited that I feel like I’m going to throw up. My college housemate, Lexi, and I are standing in front of one of the most exclusive sex clubs in Los Angeles, Obscura. It’s connected to the high-end club, Exeter House, and it’s invite-only. Thankfully, Lexi knows someone who was able to get our names on the list for tonight. Securing my black feather mask around my head, I glance over at Lexi. Her anxious gaze is fixed on the large glossy black doors in front of us. I recognize the look—she’s seconds away from bolting in terror. Of course, this is a huge departure from our usual scene. We’re Caltech students and spend so much of our time studying. We barely ever go to regular nightclubs, let alone a sex club. But I’ve got a story to write, and before I can write it, I need research. I need an angle. And tonight, I’m exhilarated at the prospects in front of me. It’s why I became a journalist, to explore life’s dark, gritty corners—the things people want to keep hidden. My goal is to bring that darkness into the light, give it a voice. It’s my duty as a would-be reporter. With this new project, I hope to lend that voice to women who are being victimized by wealthy, powerful men. I mean…allegedly. I don’t have any proof that it’s happening here, just yet. But there have been rumors for years, whispers of dark doings at these ultra, high-end sex clubs. Tonight, I’m starting my deep dive. When my editor assigned me this story, The Dark Underbelly of Sex Clubs in Los Angeles, I was hesitant at first. I’m not exactly a sex expert. I’ve had sex, of course, but I’ve never done anything too terribly adventurous. But you don’t have to be an expert on something in order to write about it, right? That’s what research is for. If I can pull this off, then this story will open up opportunities for me. A story like this, when done right, will attract attention. With a lot of work and some luck, my career will skyrocket. One glossy black door opens, and the club hostess smiles placidly as Lexi and I step up to the entrance. The impeccably dressed woman, masked, of course, greets us and introduces herself as Ms. Lawrence. We give her our names, and she glances down at the list in her hand. Seconds later, she nods. “There are no phones allowed inside the club. Please check them into the first room before the main entrance. Also, you must keep your masks on at all times. Anonymity is important and for the protection of all patrons,” Ms. Lawrence says. “No blood play, and if you wish to make use of the fetish rooms, just give the concierge your names.” Blood play? Fetish? What the fuck? Ms. Lawrence turns to my roommate, Lexi. “Ms. Anderson. Will Mr. Grayson be joining you tonight?” There’s a tense pause, and Lexi looks like a deer in the headlights. Mr. Grayson must be Ash, and she’s supposed to be meeting that idiot, David, here instead. Lexi shakes