Текст книги "The Queen"

Автор книги: Tiffany Reisz

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Текущая страница: 24 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

38

Everything

NORA GAVE SØREN one last kiss on the forehead.

“It’s time,” she whispered. “I’ll wait for you in the hallway with Kingsley if you need a minute to pray.”

“Thank you.”

Nora rose from his lap and straightened her skirts. Kingsley held out his hand, and she took it in hers. Together they stood in the darkened hallway, her head against his chest, his arms around her.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Scared. Happy,” she said. “Scared by how happy I am.”

“I know that feeling. I felt the same way the day you introduced me to my son. Now you can introduce him to his.”

Nora looked into Kingsley’s eyes. “You do it.”

Kingsley narrowed his eyes at her.

“Elle... I speak from experience when I say this moment will be the most important moment of his life,” Kingsley said. “The first time I held Céleste? The first time I met Nico? Those were the two best days of my life. Nothing will ever be the same for him again after today.”

“That’s why you should do it. Because you’ve been through this before. And because if it’s the most important moment in his life, he should share it with the most important person in the world to him. That’s you.”

Kingsley’s eyes filled with tears and he smiled. In a hoarse voice and with a hand over his heart he answered, “It would be my honor.”

“Merci,” she said, smiling and shaking all at once. She stepped into Kingsley’s arms again and relaxed against him. Now there was nothing between them, no secrets, no shame, no bitterness, no sorrow. She loved Kingsley and Kingsley loved her and nothing would ever tear the three of them apart again. Because God had joined them together, all three of them, and what God has joined together no one would tear asunder.

Søren emerged from the chapel.

“Would you like to meet your son now, mon ami?” Kingsley asked.

“Yes,” Søren said. “I would like that very much.”

“I’ll introduce you to him. Don’t be upset if he likes me better than he likes you,” Kingsley said. “I’ve already met him. And everyone likes me better.”

“Eleanor, is Nico as arrogant as his father?”

“No one is as arrogant as his father. Except his father’s best friend.”

“That’s unfair,” Søren said as the three of them, side by side by side, walked down the hall and toward the castle’s vestibule. “It’s not arrogance. It’s self-awareness.”

“How have I put up with this for twenty-three years?” Nora sighed. “And where do I sign up for twenty-three years more?”

“I believe you did in the chapel,” Søren said, reaching out to squeeze her left hand.

The way brightened as they reached the end of the hallway. Nora stopped and stayed in the shadows. She let go of Søren’s hand.

“Give my godson a kiss for me,” Nora said, kissing Søren on the lips.

Søren didn’t speak. He simply touched her cheek and looked into her eyes.

“Go,” she said. “It’s an order.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Søren said with a wink.

“Shall we?” Kingsley said. With a gallant bow he ushered Søren from the hallway into the vestibule. Nora looked across the room filled to bursting with blue and gold tapestries and knights in armor and gray stone walls and mullioned windows and saw none of it. A scene far more arresting captured her gaze. A red-haired woman in a blue dress and a dark-haired man in a black suit holding the hands of a blond-haired three-year-old boy dressed in a jacket, tiny tie and short pants.

Søren took a few steps forward and stopped. Kingsley continued toward the trio and shook hands with the man, kissed the woman and knelt on the floor to greet the boy. Words were exchanged but Nora couldn’t hear them. But she did see the little boy grin. Kingsley had that effect on children. He laughed when Kingsley stood up and swept him off his small feet and dropped him onto his broad shoulders. Kingsley carried the boy on his shoulders across the room. When he reached Søren, Kingsley went down onto his knees, a knight before a king, a king before his god. And the little boy, Fionn Easton, was now at eye level with Søren. Nora could barely breathe as she watched them, as she saw them looking at each other, trying to figure each other out. Fionn had intelligent eyes that were forever watching, seeking, taking the measure of everyone and everything he saw. But he had a smiling face, too, and an infectious giggle. He was a good boy and Nora loved him. How could she not? She’d dreamed of him and there he was with his father at last. Today was an embarrassment of miracles.

Søren said something to Fionn and held out his hand. Fionn took the large hand in his and shook it. Søren lifted Fionn off Kingsley’s shoulders and Kingsley came to his feet again. The three of them—Kingsley, Søren and Søren’s son—walked over to his mother, to Grace Easton. Zach Easton, Grace’s husband and Nora’s editor, walked over to her.

Nora held out her arms and Zach stepped into her embrace, lifting her off her feet.

“Hi, handsome,” she said, kissing his cheek. “How much have you missed me?”

“I didn’t realize how much until right now,” he said. She squeezed him harder, held him closer.

“How are you handling all of this?” she asked into her ear.

“Better now that it’s over with,” Zach said. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be here any sooner. Had to work this morning.”

“You could always quit,” she said. “Kingsley set you all up very nicely, I hear.”

“That’s all Fionn’s. And I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I didn’t work. God knows I couldn’t leave you in anyone else’s hands.”

“I can’t take charity, either. Kingsley would have given me a fortune if I’d asked for it. But then I wouldn’t have had much incentive to write the books that have been driving you insane for the past five years, right?”

“Quite so. I hope Fionn finds something that makes him as happy as my work has made me.”

“I’m sure he will. He’s his father’s son—smart, determined, and has a good heart.”

“Took me a while to see it, but I would agree with you about Søren.”

“I meant you,” she said. “He’s your son.”

He kissed her forehead. “Thank you. You always know the right thing to say.”

“You look so hot in your suit I want to drag you out of here and blow you.”

“Case in point.”

Nora laughed and playfully attempted to pull him back into the hallway.

“None of that,” Zach said. “No blowing. Grace and I have sown all the wild oats we intend to ever sow. Back to monogamy.”

“Ugh,” Nora said, shuddering. “Don’t say the M-word around me.”

“Forgive me. When he’s old enough, you can explain the facts of life to Fionn then. I’ll sit in the back with popcorn and watch you attempt to explain to a twelve-year-old boy why his godmother is romantically involved with a Catholic priest and a French vintner. Any why she doesn’t own any horses and yet always has a riding crop with her...”

“I’ll start preparing the Venn diagrams and flow charts for when that blessed day comes. And speaking of my beautiful blond godson...do you have the item I requested?”

“I do. He had his haircut Thursday last. Saved a scrap for you,” he said, pulling an envelope from his pocket to pass to her.

“Perfect.” She took a glass locket from the pocket of her dress and opened it.

“Lovely locket. Where did you get that? Family heirloom?”

“Actually, I ripped it off the neck of an evil dominatrix who Søren sold a lock of his hair to in order to buy me a computer. I gave it back to him, but then I stole it out of his pocket again after we’d fucked in the confessional at our church.”

“That was my second guess.”

The glass locket still contained the lock of Søren’s hair. She added a few strands of Fionn’s to it, shut it and slipped it on her necklace. Now that she and Søren wore their wedding bands, the necklace needed something new on it to go with the pendant from her Nico.

Zach pulled her in front of him and helped her clasp the necklace.

“Now it’s your turn. I gave you something. You give me something. Your autograph please.”

Nora sighed. She’d been waiting for this moment. From the inside pocket of his suit jacket, Zach pulled out a tri-folded bundle of legal documents.

“You sure about this?” she asked, her hands slightly shaking. “You’ve met me, right?”

Zach handed her the documents and an ink pen.

“If something happens to us, Grace and I want you to raise our son. And yes, I’ve met you. That’s why we chose you.” He turned his back to her so she could use him as a desk.

“Last time I signed a piece of paper on your back, it changed my life,” she said. “Let’s hope history doesn’t repeat itself.”

“Last time you signed a piece of paper on my back, we had sex all night long right afterward,” Zach reminded her.

“Okay, maybe history can repeat itself.”

Nora had to wait for Zach to stop laughing so she could properly sign her name without smearing the ink.

“I promise you, Grace and I have no intention of getting ourselves killed anytime soon. But if we do, Fionn’s yours. Please don’t raise him Catholic.”

“No promises, Easton.”

Nora flipped to the last page and signed her name on the line—Eleanor Schreiber. She folded up the papers that made her guardian of Fionn Easton and his trust fund in the event of his parents’ death and gave them back to Zach. He tucked them back in his pocket and kissed her forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

It was done.

The comforting weight of Zach’s arms settled around her stomach. The two of them, the outsiders in this little play, held each other tight and watched as Søren, Kingsley, Grace and Fionn chatted about everything and nothing.

“You and I have made some beautiful book babies together, Zach,” Nora said, her throat contracting as Søren brushed his hand over Fionn’s head, smoothing down a wayward strand of baby-soft hair.

Zach snorted. “Book babies? We’re talking about your books. More like Rosemary’s Babies.”

“You mean that as an insult, and yet I’m taking it as a compliment.”

“This does not surprise me.” Zach pulled her closer to him and she relaxed into his arms. “What’s going to happen?” he asked her as they both watched Grace, Kingsley, Søren and Fionn talking.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But you have nothing to worry about. He’d never do anything to hurt you or Grace or Fionn. He’s a good sadist.”

“Will he be all right?”

“He will be. He has me and Kingsley no matter what.”

“You all are a strange little coven, aren’t you?” Zach asked, shaking his head in amusement.

“We prefer the term family. And guess what? You’re in it, too.” She playfully slapped her hand on the center of his chest. He covered it with his own hand before lifting it to his lips for a kiss. “For life.”

Nora leaned against him, took comfort in his warmth, his solidity and their friendship, which had meant so much to her. Søren had Fionn’s tiny hand in his and seemed to be examining his fingers. Long strong fingers. A future pianist’s fingers perhaps? Søren kissed Fionn’s fingers and Nora knew she had never been this happy in her life.

“Will he leave the priesthood?” Zach asked.

“No. But he’s expecting them to kick him out once he tells his provincial about Fionn. He doesn’t feel right keeping Fionn a secret. Me? Kingsley? We knew what we were getting into. A child shouldn’t worry his biological father considered him a dirty little secret.”

“Are you scared? There might be a scandal.”

“My whole life’s a scandal. But no, I’m not scared. He’s been in the Jesuits thirty-four years. I think he’s earned his retirement. What about you? Are you scared?”

“I worry about Fionn, that’s all. He’s my son. And his.”

“And he’s my godson. He has me to thank for his existence, after all. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

“So you’re the one I have to blame for my life being turned upside down?”

“My doing,” she said. “I’m the one who sent Grace to Søren. I didn’t know Fionn would be the result but well, Grace saved us all. One new life for our three lives sounds like a good deal to me.” Grace had run her guts out to get to Kingsley in time. If she hadn’t, Nora and Søren would have died and she knew Kingsley was joking when he said he’d last three days in a world without Søren. Giving Grace the child her heart longed for seemed like the least they could do in repayment.

“Then I say thank you. Also...” Zach pointed at her nose. “Don’t do it again.”

Nora started to scold him for being so vanilla, but then she heard her favorite song.

“Do devilishly handsome Jewish book editors dance?”

“Only when asked to by impossibly sexy Catholic writers.”

She took his hand and dragged him away into the not-a-real wedding reception that was still in full swing. All around them people laughed and talked and drank and danced to her favorite song by The Police, the one band she and Søren had ever agreed on. Zach spun her once and pulled her close to him.

“Are you really mad at me for turning your life upside down?” she asked.

“It needed turning upside down,” he said. “Funny, though. Once it was turned upside down I realized it was finally right-side up. What about you? Your life’s been turned a bit sideways. Still standing?”

“I’m always standing,” she said. “Except when I’m on my back. You know Søren never told me what you said to him when you called him that day and told him about Fionn.”

“I believe I said something to the effect of ‘Happy Birthday. Merry Christmas. Oh, and Happy Father’s Day.’ I enjoyed the stunned silence that followed.”

“It’s not easy to shock that man. Trust me, I’ve made doing it my life’s work.”

“I love my son and I love my wife and I love my work. And I have you to thank for them all. I would be divorced, childless and living in LA right now if it weren’t for you. I don’t know which of the three prospects horrifies me the most.”

Nora laughed and kissed Zach on the mouth, full tilt with tongue and everything. She kissed him for two reasons, the only two reasons that ever mattered to Nora—because she wanted to and because she could.

“Happy now?” he asked, as she pulled back and saw Søren, Kingsley and Grace walking into the reception, Fionn in Kingsley’s arms but his hand in Søren’s. “My wife just saw you kiss me.”

“Oh, no, are we in trouble?”

“She’s glaring and laughing at the same time,” Zach said. “I think we’re safe.”

“Good. Now slow dance with me. It’s not a wedding reception until I’ve drunkenly made out with a wedding guest while slow dancing.”

“That’s going to be a problem,” Zach said as he led her in a slow dance. “We’re not drunk.”

Nora grabbed a glass of wine off a passing tray.

“We can fix that,” she said.

Zach took her in his arms again.

“Behave,” he said. “I’m a ridiculously happily married man and father, and I’m enjoying it believe it or not.”

“Vanilla,” she said.

“Not quite. I did learn a thing or two from you.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“What about you, Nora?” he asked. “Happy?”

“How could I not be happy?” she asked, smiling so hard it hurt. “Look around...look at all of this...this happiness.”

She took her own advice and looked around as she and Zach moved lightly across the dance floor.

Zach in her arms. Her editor and her dearest friend. He had changed her life when he signed her contract for the book she thought she’d never finish. But she had finished it, with a little help from a certain blond monster she knew and loved.

Finish the book, Søren had ordered. Not for me or for Zachary or for Wesley or even for God. Finish it for you.

And there were Michael and Griffin talking to Alfred and smiling. All of them smiling, even Alfred, and she was fairly certain that was the first time she’d ever seen him smile.

You are formally invited to attend the collaring of Griffin Fiske and Michael Dimir.

You knew? Nora had asked Søren.

Of course I knew...

And there was Juliette standing with Kingsley, speaking to Fionn and smiling as she introduced Kingsley’s daughter to Søren’s son.

That was the year I met Juliette, almost killed a man over her, came home and got everything back I’d lost and then some, Kingsley had said last night about the year he’d left Søren and found Juliette, the woman he loved and the mother of his children.

Nora clutched the pendant Nico had given her, which hung next to the glass locket on the chain. Nico, Kingsley’s son. Nico, her lover, her submissive, who never would have existed if Søren hadn’t let Kingsley go...

And Fionn, who she’d wished for in secret and had told no one ever, not Kingsley or Søren...

He was fourteen years her senior and women lived longer than men. Wouldn’t it be something to have part of Søren live on after he was gone?

In fact, all that she had and all that she loved—her writing career, Zach, Grace, Fionn, Céleste, Juliette, Kingsley, Nico, Michael and Griffin...she had Søren to thank for all of it. In one way or another he’d brought them to her and to each other by paths both straight and broken.

She wanted for nothing.

She had it all.

“Oh, that son of a bitch,” Nora said as she clung to Zach’s hand even as she took a step toward where Søren stood speaking softly to his beautiful son. “He did it.”

“Did what?” Zach asked.

“Søren promised to give me something and he kept his promise.”

“What did he give you?”

Nora laughed.

“Everything.”

* * * * *

Read on for an extract from THE VIRGIN by Tiffany Reisz.

1

2015

Scotland

“IT WAS A dark and stormy night,” Nora said as she came to stand next to Søren at the window. She gazed out on the summer storm tearing up the Scottish sky.

“Please tell me that isn’t the first line to your next book.”

“Oh, but it’s such a good first line. Classic even.” She tucked her hand into his and watched the light show with him. Wind and rain lashed the trees and the moors. A flash of lightning set the night afire for a split second and the hills revealed their colors before fading into black again. “How about this—‘It was a dark and stormy night in the castle, and a woman named Nora was determined to seduce her priest.’”

Søren smiled slightly.

“An improvement. A minor improvement.”

“Everyone’s a critic.” Nora squeezed his hand, and he lifted it to his lips for a kiss. He’d arrived this morning but she’d been so busy with her work here that they hadn’t had more than five minutes together. At last the day was done, her work was over until tomorrow, and they could hold hands and simply be.

“Do I want to know what you’re thinking?” Nora asked him.

“Merely watching the storm,” he said, but she could tell he had something on his mind, on his heart. They both did.

Tomorrow was the big day... Everything between her and Søren would change tomorrow. It was happening finally and there was no going back.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” she asked.

“Should I be?”

“I am,” she admitted. “Big day for us.”

“I’m at peace,” he said. “Although I will admit the peace is hard-won.”

“We’ve waited a long time to do this.”

“It’s time now,” he said. “We’ve waited long enough.”

A clap of thunder interrupted their conversation and together they peered into the storm outside the oriel window.

“What are you thinking?” Nora asked.

“Thinking about Job, chapter thirty-eight,” he said. “It’s every priest’s dream to have God come and speak to him face-to-face. Even if it is to tell him how little he knows about the world. Storms always remind me of those verses. God says, ‘Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place?’”

Nora looked up at the sky. “‘Can you raise your voice to the clouds / and cover yourself with a flood of water? / Do you send lightning bolts on their way? / Do they report to you / Here we are.’”

“It’s comforting to know God is so powerful. Comforting to know we aren’t,” Søren said.

Perhaps only a priest could find comfort in his powerlessness. Perhaps only Søren.

“Are you coming to bed?” she asked Søren.

“Not yet. I won’t be ready to sleep for hours.”

In Scotland, it was nine-thirty. In New Orleans, where they’d been living for the past two years, it was half past three in the afternoon.

“Who said anything about sleeping?” she asked.

Søren arched his eyebrow.

“Well, in that case...” Søren turned from the window and cupped her face with his hands. He kissed her on the lips, softly at first, a slight kiss meant to arouse and torment. Ever so slowly he deepened the kiss. As much as she wanted to, Nora didn’t rush the moment. She’d been away from him for five weeks—four weeks spent with Nico at his vineyard and another week here in Scotland making the final preparations for tomorrow. Leaving Søren for any extended period of time was much like this kiss—a torture and a tease. Being away from him hurt, always. But the reunion at the end of the separation made every second apart worth the price.

He took her hands in his and brought them up and around his neck. His arms encircled her back and he drew her to him, deepening the kiss. The heat of his body warmed her to the core. She kissed his lips, his chin, his ear and his neck. He’d abandoned his collar for traveling and tonight wore only black trousers, black jacket and a white button-down shirt open at the neck. She pressed her lips into the hollow of his throat, a hollow made for her kisses.

And the moment when the kiss was perfect, everything she wanted and needed from him, she heard from behind her a small cough.

“Ms. Sutherlin?”

“God fucking dammit.” Nora growled the words, and dropped her head to the center of Søren’s chest.

“Eleanor, you’re scaring the waitstaff,” Søren said.

She turned and faced the interrupter, a young woman holding a bouquet of flowers. Her name might be Bonnie, or maybe she was just “bonnie” in the Scottish sense of pretty. Nora didn’t know and didn’t care.

“Miss, you’ve signed the nondisclosure agreement, haven’t you?” Nora asked. Kingsley was treating tomorrow like a celebrity wedding with ironclad nondisclosure agreements for everyone even remotely involved. Even she’d had to sign one.

“Yes, ma’am?” The girl made everything she said into a question.

“Good. This man is a Catholic priest. We’ve been sleeping together since I was twenty. I’m sure you can imagine it’s not easy being the mistress of a Catholic priest. We don’t get to spend nearly the amount of time together we’d like to. In fact, I haven’t seen him in five weeks. Admittedly that’s because I was sleeping with someone else most of the time, but that’s neither here nor there. As you can see, my priest here is possibly the most handsome man in the world, although I am admittedly biased. He’s also kinky, well-hung and you’ve just interrupted the kiss I’ve been waiting for all day. So please tell me this interruption is more important than that kiss was.”

“Your dress is here. We hung it in your room. You told me to tell you when it arrived and to interrupt you no matter what you were doing even if you were, as you said, ‘blowing the pope.’ Also, these arrived for you earlier today. They were accidentally put away with the wedding flowers,” the girl said, passing the bouquet to Nora.

“Oh.” Nora tapped her foot on the stone floor. “How nice.”

“Eleanor...” Søren made her name into a threat.

“And sorry about the, you know, well-hung priest rant there,” Nora said. “Pre-wedding jitters.”

“It’s fine, ma’am,” the girl who was either bonnie or Bonnie said. “If he was kissing me, I’d be bloody pissed off to be interrupted, too. Catholic priest?”

“No comment,” Søren said.

“We had a priest like you when I was a girl,” she said. “We called him Father What-A-Waste. Glad you’re not going to waste.”

The girl bobbed a slightly sarcastic curtsy and sauntered off.

“Is it weird I kind of want to fuck her now?” Nora asked. “Castles makes me so horny.”

“Little One?”

“Yes, sir?” She turned back to face him.

“Who are your flowers from?”

“No idea,” she said. She looked through the small but exquisite posy of white roses, pink hydrangeas and green Cymbidium orchids until she found the small ivory card. She opened it up and read aloud,

“Dear Mistress,

I’m sorry I have to miss your wedding tomorrow but I never attend weddings where I’m not allowed to kiss the bride. Think of me during the ceremony—and on the wedding night. Love, Your Nico”

“Very kind of him,” Søren said, smiling.

“He’s a smart-ass like his father,” Nora said. She tucked the card back into the envelope. “Now, where were we?”

“Here, I think,” Søren said as he brought his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. He dropped gentle but hungry kisses along her neck.

“Oh yes, that’s where we were.”

“It’s been too long since I’ve had the pleasure of beating you and putting you in your place.” He whispered the words in her ear, and she shivered. “Do you even remember your place?”

“Underneath you, my sir,” she said. “Or wherever you tell me it is.”

“Very good answer.”

He tapped her under the chin and she smiled. She did so love to please him. Collaring Nico two years ago and making him her property had been the best thing she could have done for her relationship with Søren. At the time she and Nico became lovers, she’d been running on pure instinct and grief and need. She’d gone to Nico searching for something she was missing and found it with him. Once she had a submissive of her own, her own personal property collared and owned, she fully grasped Søren’s love for her. Owning Nico had filled up a void in her that not even Søren’s love—boundless as it was—could fill. She hadn’t cleaned up her act, hadn’t reformed. She hadn’t turned over a new leaf. Nora Sutherlin did not turn over leaves—new or otherwise. But for the past two years she’d had only two lovers—Søren and Nico—and wanted and needed no one else in her bed or her heart. It might be the closest she would ever get to monogamy.

Kingsley was already taking bets on how long it would last.

Søren took her by the hand and led her down the long ancient hallway. Portraits of noble Scotsmen, dead for centuries, followed their progress as they walked the faded crimson carpet and took a set of stone stairs to the next floor. Lightning created mad shadows in the castle. A suit of armor seemed to move with one flash of light. A portrait of a young noblewoman with pre-Raphaelite hair winked at Nora. The long-dead princess must have guessed what Nora and Søren had planned. Her smile was one of approval. Envy even. Nora didn’t blame the lady. Who wouldn’t want a night in Søren’s bed?

The wink reminded Nora of someone she knew long ago. And the castle reminded her of somewhere she’d once run away to and hidden herself. The abbey. Her mother’s abbey. The gray stone walls, the wandering hallways and the portraits like icons. The sound of her feet on the stone floors brought to mind that year she’d lived in her mother’s convent. Not quite a full year but close enough. Close enough that she thought of it always as “that year.”

She pushed thoughts of the past away. The present was a far more pleasant moment. Through an arched wooden door they entered their bedroom. The fire in the fireplace was dead, but no matter. Linen sheets and silk pillows invited them to the bed. They needed only each other for warmth now.

Søren left her standing by the bed as he lit the bedside oil lamp for light and the candles on the fireplace mantel for ambience. Nora slipped out of her shoes and let her feet sink into the soft woven rug that covered the stone floor. She put her flowers in the ice bucket, which made for a perfect makeshift vase. Displaying them on the table by the bed might be a little too much even for Søren so she set them on the fireplace mantel instead.

“We’ve never made love in a castle before, have we?” Nora asked as she turned from arranging her flowers to gaze around the room. She walked from the great stone fireplace to the hanging blue-and-red tapestries on the wall adorned with unicorns, dragons and knights.

“Belgium,” Søren said as he strode to the bed, carrying a box in one hand and something long, thin and wrapped in fabric in the other. He snapped his fingers and she jogged to his side.

Nora smiled at the memory of a long-ago journey through Europe they’d taken together. An anniversary gift from Kingsley.

“We’ll always have Belgium. And what was her name?”

“Odette.” Søren opened the box that held her collar.

“Oh yes. That was it. She was fun, wasn’t she?” While in Belgium, she and Søren had toured a little brewery and had met a beautiful Swiss translator named Odette. During the tasting, Odette had flirted shamelessly with them both—she and Søren had dueled over who knew more languages. Søren won, but just barely. After the tour, Odette had come back with them to their hotel room in a renovated castle. Nora had been young then, only twenty-four, and had never been that intimate with a woman. Søren hadn’t touched Odette, but he’d certainly enjoyed watching the two of them together that night.

“You’re smiling, Little One.” Søren brought her collar around her neck and locked it on. While his fingers were at her throat he toyed with the necklace she wore always these days. It had three charms on it—two rings engraved with the words Everything and Forever and a small silver locket Nico had given her as a token of his adoration. They made a gentle clinking sound like tiny wind chimes when she moved.

“Good memories,” she said. “So many good memories I’ve forgotten some of them.”

“Speaking of memories, I have a gift for you. A gift in memory of something.”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” she said, keeping her eyes low, respectful, submissive.

“I know,” he said with that touch of arrogance she’d always loved and loathed in equal measure. “But it was time I gave you this.”

He held up the bundle still covered in its fabric wrapping.

“What is it?”

“You’ll find out. But you have to earn your gift first.”

“It’s not a gift if I have to earn it,” she reminded him.

“Then we’ll call it a ‘prize.’”

“How do I earn my prize?”

“Trial by fire.”

“You are in a mood tonight, aren’t you?” she asked. “Sir?”

“Do you accept the challenge?” he asked, his eyebrow cocked, his smile tight but amused. She was thirty-eight years old, and she had loved Søren since she was fifteen...and yet...after all this time he could still scare the shit out of her.

God, she loved him.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “I want my prize.”

Søren cupped her face again, kissed her lips again.

“I already have my prize.” He kissed her on the forehead.

She stood unmoving and made no protest as Søren stripped her naked. He unbuttoned her blouse and slid it off her arms. Under her shirt she wore a black corset, which he took an unnecessary amount of time unlacing. The more eager she was to have him inside her, the longer he took getting there. Her own fault for falling in love with a sadist, not that she regretted it. He unzipped her leather skirt and pushed it over her hips and down her legs. His fingers on her bare skin as he unhooked her stockings set her to shivering, even more when he tickled the bottoms of her feet as he pulled them off.