VINCENT MOREAU It was not surprising, then, when Damian Blackwood started to pay me attention.I knew he admired me—not in the way I would like, but he was impressed by how I managed to find out about Wesley Black and curb her kidnap just as it happened. So when he reached out to me for drinks a week later. I had a number of spies keep tabs on the Blacks, and waited for any tug of some unfortunate prey over the new web I had cast.Thankfully, there was nothing, not yet. Wesley Black had run off like a frightened dog with its tail between its hindlegs, and I waited for Damian so I could stun him with the names of the men who were involved in the plot, all of the nine former men of the Black family.Again, we sat across each other in the restaurant where we first met, sipping glasses of brandy. I handed him a file of the names he wanted which he flipped through, silently nodding his head. Then he kept it aside and continued to drink."They should never have dared to attack me,” he sudd
Eleanor's POVSLAP!The impact and sound of Damian’s palm hit my cheek with such force that I tumbled backward. For a moment, my vision became blurry, and a strong pain ran through my face. The world around me turned around, the big chandeliers above turning into streaks of gold. Gasps filled the ballroom, followed by a suffocating and usual silence that felt like a heavy weight pressing down on me.I pressed my fingers to my burning cheek, the sting only adding to my pain. While my ears rang from the blow, tingle tingle, the pounding of my heart was even louder. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t possibly be happening to me.Damian Blackwood, my husband, my love, my everything,g stood before me, his gaze filled with cold, unyielding fury, just like that of a dagger."You ungrateful whore! You bastard" he roared, his voice moving through my entire being.I recoiled at the venom in his words. My lips twisted, trying to defend myself, but my throat felt dry and my mind was a blank and
Eleanor's POVI woke up to a sharp pain all over my body. A piercing, strong, heart-wrenching pain ran through me like wildfire. My arms lay motionless and unmoved. My legs felt as though they were made of lead and steel. My mouth was dried, and my lips cracked and were bleeding profusely.I attempted to blink, yet the world remained an unstable haze of shadow and dim light. The ache in my head was so overwhelming that I thought for a fleeting moment I might be dead by now.But I wasn’t. As much as I wished I were.The instant my vision sharpened, I saw them. And that’s when hell truly began….******I found myself sleeping helplessly on a strong concrete floor, my hands were tied behind me, my body weakened from hunger and exhaustion. The odor in the air was unbearable sweat, urine, poo, something putrid and really irritating.And then I saw them. Three men.Filthy, obese, ugly, stupid men.Their gaze ran over my body like insects, their laughter low and really disgusting."Finally a
Eleanor's POVI didn’t go down without a fight. I kicked and screamed, struggling against the chains restraining my wrists as Vincent’s dogs dragged me down the shadowy hallway. The iron cuffs bruised my skin, the chains twisting with each step.But that didn’t matter. They had taken everything from me. They would not break my spirit. Whatever lay ahead, they would pay for their actions, they would surely pay.******The dark and shabby underground chamber was filled with the scent of cigars and pricey cologne. Heavily furnished, with expensive curtains and caged chandeliers casting sinister shadows over the faces of influential men gathered to bid.I had heard rumors of such place before, a place where humans are being sold. Where women were treated as mere objects, like pieces of trash.Where predators in tailored suits drink expensive whiskey while bargaining on human lives. At the heart of it all stood Vincent Moreau, that bastard, the man who destroyed me.He remained beside me,
Eleanor's POVI had hoped that my torment would stop once I was removed from Vincent's presence and cage. I never knew that more suffering and beating awaited me. I briefly thought that Kieran Lancaster might be my way out of a nightmare, my way out of severe punishment and bitterness, but I was mistaken. I was really wrong, so utterly mistaken.The mansion was really beautiful, with white designs, endless marble corridors, and fine chandeliers that shone like diamonds. It looks like a scene out of a fairytale in movies, yet to me, it felt like just another prison, a place where I didn’t fit in, a place where I looked like a dog, maybe. As soon as I entered, a deep sense of unwelcomeness ran over me, and I knew instantly that my suffering had just begun.I had not even gotten into the house before a loud sound of heels echoed carelessly down the hall like a drum, followed by a voice that reeked with cold hate.“So this is what you brought home?”I slowly turned my head, my body shakin
Eleanor's POVI thought I had seen the worst of Bianca's ruthlessness and wickedness when she forced me to lick her shoes in that disgusting bathroom. Yes she told me to lick her shoes, she forced my mouth on the tile, I licked poo and a lot of disgusting things.As soon as she finished dripping in my humiliation, she seized my hair and dragged me through the mansion, ignoring my protests and my shivering body as I stumbled on the icy floors with my bare feet, She really made me suffer."You're not finished yet, whore," she spat, pulling me into her big bedroom. "You have something else to clean for me."I was nearly too weak to stand, yet I forced myself to move, pain running through me with every step. When we reached her room, she flung the door open and pushed me inside.The disgusting odor of blood hit me immediately.Then I saw it.A heap of dirty clothes is on the floor, dark stains of dried menstrual blood staining the fabric.My stomach twisted violently, the smell was just t
ELEANOR The darkness swam around me when I opened my eyes.It was frightening, too, to open them and see Lady Lancaster standing alone with her son, Kieran, staring down at me with impersonal looks on their faces. I could have screamed out in horror of how much they made me think of evil—of demons standing by my bedside, with the flowing black clothes they wore and how white their faces seemed. Pale and vampire-like. “You're awake,” Kieran said, as though he needed to remind me.I made a feeble attempt to nod, but my body felt like lead and it made me want to cry. “Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?” And there, the bombshell dropped. It made my heart start to race, and my skin went damp in that instant. “The girl is weak, Kieran,” Lady Lancaster said, as a smile spread across her lips. “There is no need to ask her such questions, is it not. Besides, the baby from your so-called wife is gone, just like a balloon left off to go on its own.”There was a slight, almost inaudib
ELEANORIt was the oddest thing too, seeing that Kieran Lancaster was a little kinder after that.The slaps from his mother and sisters did not stop, and Lady Bianca Lancaster and her daughters hated me more than ever. She was even more disgusting and hateful after the miscarriage, and her acts, which ranged from mildly disgusting to very disgusting started to reach an all-time high, and, so much of it that I only found solace in telling myself that the woman tiptoed on the edge of madness, and without knowing of it herself. I was the most hated by her in the house, and it was soon clear to everyone when the depraved woman woke all and sundry with her loud cries one morning, yelling for every single breathing thing to come stand around her in a circle. All gathered as she asked, and saw her stand right before a clump of poo, her finger pointing straight at it.“Who did this?” She asked, turning about and looking everyone in the eyes.None claimed responsibility, and none did, because
VINCENT MOREAU It was not surprising, then, when Damian Blackwood started to pay me attention.I knew he admired me—not in the way I would like, but he was impressed by how I managed to find out about Wesley Black and curb her kidnap just as it happened. So when he reached out to me for drinks a week later. I had a number of spies keep tabs on the Blacks, and waited for any tug of some unfortunate prey over the new web I had cast.Thankfully, there was nothing, not yet. Wesley Black had run off like a frightened dog with its tail between its hindlegs, and I waited for Damian so I could stun him with the names of the men who were involved in the plot, all of the nine former men of the Black family.Again, we sat across each other in the restaurant where we first met, sipping glasses of brandy. I handed him a file of the names he wanted which he flipped through, silently nodding his head. Then he kept it aside and continued to drink."They should never have dared to attack me,” he sudd
VINCENT MOREAU Who can blame me for being human and with feelings?Thinking about it made me realize when my desire for Damian Blackwood started—from the very moment I set eyes on him. I had misunderstood the feeling, assuming it to be something else, until I found myself wondering what it would feel like to kneel before him. To look in his eyes and take him inside of me. To cuddle and be cuddled by his strong arms.A quick check on the kind of man he was put the first obstacle in my name.“What about him?” I asked the spy of mine who was tasked with finding out all I needed to know.“Not some particularly impressive details, Sir. He makes for a brutal leader, killing without remorse, yet he seems to know how to balance it so well that his men have no choice but to love and respect him. Most people know about the kind of person he is, but his wife is surprisingly, glaringly ignorant. It is possible she chooses not to know.”I grunted at the sound of the wife. “And who is she?” I aske
VINCENT MOREAU For a long time, romantics have thought of Paris as the City of Love. As a young boy who lived on those streets, I never saw why, though. There was not so much I thought was lovely about it. There were too many angry voices, fights in the streets, blood baths, and evil men for me to think too much about love in those times.It would take a bedtime conversation with Cassandra for me to understand that it was not as much to do with love as it was to do with sex. There was something about sex in Parisian streets, something that made you think you could get it with nothing but the blink of an eye. Something that meant you could get any kind of sex you sought, for there was always someone to provide. I thought this was no lie, and that there was a bit of truth in it.Years before I lost my virginity to that prostitute, I did something with a boy.It was not actual sex. But there is an awareness of desire that comes in your early teens. The stiffness between the groins and
VINCENT MOREAU Damian Blackwood stared at me, his eyes narrowing.I knew he was coming to terms with as he processed my introduction. It was almost always daunting to my listeners when I told people I was the Spider, and I loved to watch them lose themselves to my spell and what I meant. The name hung in the air like smoke, curling around his thoughts, and he watched me with wariness lurking beneath his eyes. I only smiled.“You have to be French.” He observed.“I am.” I agreed. It was the hardest thing for me to deny, not with how often my accent gave me away, making it clear to everyone that English was not my first language. It did not matter to me either—as long as those who I had my eyes on were being affected by the poison of my words, I cared less for the accent.It was working on him, and I could see the battle between hesitation, caution, and need being waged in his mind, all three weighing the implications of partnering with a man like me who operated in shadows, who someh
VINCENT MOREAU He made sure to down the contents of his cup before returning his gaze to me.“My men should know about it. They would know from the moment Wesley Black snaps a finger.”“Wesley Black isn't as stupid and naïve as you think,” I corrected, recalling that it had taken far more sophisticated arrangements to figure the boy out. “His plans are elaborate. He has men who have been there since the time of his father and grandfather guiding him. You seem to have doubts.”“Of course I do. Wesley is too sweet a soul to plot against me. He loves me.”“I believe your men can find me for as long as I am in Vieuti. You have spies.”“Why do you ask?” He questioned, a scowl on his face.“Because in ten minutes, your wife will be kidnapped from the house she is staying in, the one in which your grandfather lived before his death. You have no time, and even now you might be too late to rescue her. If you go fast enough, you will find that the Lone Wolf has been sent to get her. Right now,
VINCENT MOREAU It would take years before I found another worthy catch. By then, my little circle and I had long gone apart, each deciding that it was time for them to do something worthwhile with what they had earned. I gave them all my blessings—did they not call me Father, anyway—and watched them build empires with what they owned.We paid good memory to Marco, a friend who was our favourite when he wasn't injecting himself with heroin. I never forgot that each time I looked at him, I saw nothing but a man who could have flown over the world but who found himself pulled down by his own weight. He could have escaped the night of Ricci's attack if he wasn't so laden with his addiction that he could do nothing to save himself. We knew it was why he truly died. It was why the words we put on his tombstone were clear:“A DEAR FRIEND WHO COULD NOT FIGHT HIS DEMONS.”We also gave half of his share of all our money to his mother and family. Of course it was more honourable to give her a
VINCENT MOREAU With them, our first big play was a heist.It was not the kind New York was used to, and the target was a man who laundered money for half the city’s elite. His security was top-notch with every kind of security that could be thought of—from biometrics to secure firewalls and armed guards.We were hard pressed to find a weakness to prod, but I figured it out anyway.His arrogance and the number of skeletons he had hidden in his cupboard.It was a game of chance we were playing when Lila breached his system, planting a backdoor that let us steal away $10 million during a crash into his systems. The skeletons in his cupboard, which we determined as his weakness, was the reason why he could not report it without exposing his own dirty deals, and he could only watch as we funneled the funds through shell accounts. The account was soon empty, and he almost went bankrupt.The heist put us on the map, but it also drew angered eyes who could not identify who it was. Everyone s
VINCENT MOREAU The time then came when the Spider found the web he had cast over Paris a bit too small.Something about the Parisian Mafia felt minor and small scale. Nothing much except bank robberies here and there, and a few drugs being sold about. I thought that if I could play the same game somewhere else, I would be far bigger. So I gathered all that I could and moved to America. In Paris, my network had become intricate, but it was limited as well.It struck me that I wanted more power, and a delicate web spun across petty thieves, small gangs and their occasional rivals was nothing. As far as I was concerned, the city’s underworld had grown stale—or I had rather grown past it—and its opportunities had become too predictable. I wanted to be bigger and better. I wanted to be a legend.In America, with its bawling population and rising powers, I thought I was promised a larger river to cast my net over. The continent called to me like the gold rush—a haven of men with greed and
VINCENT MOREAU I would earn the name ‘The Spider’ three years after that, when I turned twenty.It was mostly because I learned the one thing my father did not. To kill. The test of the story was because of something I did, something that brought my name to the Parisian slums. One lesson I learned just as early was that people liked smart people. When you did things that would ordinarily not come to their minds, they liked you and lived in admiration of you. For the gangs, they thought I was smart because I knew everything about everybody. I knew who was plotting to kill his boss. I knew who had done something to attract the Police. I knew who was sleeping with who’s woman. I knew who was going to die next.It made me highly covered, indeed, and in danger of death all the time. They would want to sneak up on me and beat what they wanted to know out of me, which was why I had to learn two skills I found extremely important.How to escape, and how to kill. I made money from both.I r