Free The Art of Control by Ella Dominguez Page A

again.
    “Isabel Young,” I say more sternly and she looks up at me dazed. She blinks rapidly and comes out of her shell.
    “Where did you learn to fight like that?” she asks softly. “The NSA?”
    “Yes.”
    “What other sorts of ninja skills did you learn from them?” she asks seriously.
    I chuckle and she cocks her head to the side as if surprised by my amusement at her question.
    “Just the usual sorts of survival stuff,” I answer.
    “Like how to kill a person?”
    “Yes, that too,” I answer in all honesty.
    “Because you were a spy?”
    Oh, Isa. “I really wasn’t a spy; I was just a field agent.”
    “If you were a spy, you couldn’t tell me, though, right?”
    “At this point in our relationship, I would tell you if I had been spy,” I say.
    She smiles, stands up and sits on my knee. She kisses my cheek and runs her fingers through my hair.
    “Did you ever have to use those skills to kill someone?”
    Ah, hell. Why does she ask this sort of stuff? I want to lie to her, but I promised I wouldn’t so… “Yes.”
    She looks shocked at my candidness.
    “You shouldn’t ask what you don’t really want to know,” I chastise her.
    “I do want to know. I just didn’t think that…” she takes a deep breath and shakes her head.
    “I only did it once if it makes you feel any better.”
    “It does make me feel better. Was he a bad man?” she asks with furrowed eyebrows.
    “ He was a very bad man.” I’ll never figure out why people feel they need to make excuses to justify their actions or the actions of their loved ones.
    “Did he have a family?” she asks sadly.
    Isa stuns me yet again with her odd question. Shit. I promised I wouldn’t lie to her, but telling her the truth at this moment would do no good. In fact, it might do harm. So this once, I’ll tell Isa what she needs to hear so that her mind and heart will be at peace. “No, he didn’t have a family.”
    She sighs with relief. “What did he do that was so bad?”
    “I’m done talking ab out this. I’m tired and sore, and that memory isn’t a particularly fond one I’d care to rehash,” I huff.
    “Yes, of course, sugar. I’m sorry. Let’s get you tucked in. Are you hungry? I’ll order us something to eat, okay?” she asks sweetly helping me up and walking me to the bed.
    This is caretaker Isa. She comes out on the rarest of occasions, but only because I don’t allow it. However, when I do, I quite enjoy being pampered at the hands of my beautiful, submissive wife. I really should allow her to do this more often as I can see she enjoys taking care of me.
    She pulls my pant s off, turns the bedding down and tucks me in. She grabs the in-house menu and picks out something for us to eat and calls the order in. I sit up on one elbow and watch her move fluidly and gracefully around the room as she cleans up and puts our clothes away.
    While she’s putting away our toiletries my mind goes back to the man who attacked me. What the hell was that about anyway? I knew we were being followed. But for how long were we being followed? Shit . Did he see us at the club? Do we look like vulnerable tourists?
    Isa comes out of the bathroom and reads my mind.
    “What was that about anyway? Was that man trying to mug us?” she asks.
    It’s a plausible explanation except he didn’t ask for any money. In fact, he didn’t ask for anything which is what’s upsetting me about this whole situation. I need to call Sawyer and let him know what happened.
    “Yeah, sure,” I answer, not wanting to worry Isa.
    “You really whooped him good. I had no idea I was married to such a bad ass. You’re full of surprises, you know that?” she asks, smiling adorably at me.
    “Yes, I know it . Speaking of surprises, I want to talk about what happened at the club,” I tell her, wiggling my eyebrows up and down at her lasciviously.
    True to form, Isa blushes.
    “Why on earth do you want to talk about it? It happened. Wasn’t that