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“I’d tell him to mind his own goddamn business. Then I’d have Kingsley freeze his credit cards and bank accounts for the week just for fun.”
Søren raised his eyebrow.
“Okay. Point taken,” she said.
“I need to able to deal with this situation without worrying about you. But the most important reason is Michael. He needs you.”
“Needs me for what?”
“What you are best at,” Søren said simply.
“You expect me to train Michael?” Nora asked, aghast. “I was a pay-for-play dominatrix, remember? Training wasn’t my area. Surely there’s someone else—”
“There’s no one else I trust. And no one else Michael trusts. He starts college in the fall. This summer is our last chance to help him.”
Nora heard something underneath Søren’s words, and a shiver of worry rippled through her. She hadn’t really talked to Michael since their one night together, but she still cared about the kid.
“Help him? The last time I helped him it was because you were afraid he was going to try to kill himself again. What’s wrong with Michael?”
“Nothing I can tell you, I’m afraid.”
Sighing, Nora stood up and wandered over to the stained-glass window that adorned the back wall of Søren’s office. Unlike the stained-glass windows in the sanctuary, this window depicted no saints or biblical scenes but instead a bursting bloodred rose. Nora traced one of the cool metal spokes of the beautiful window with the tip of her finger.
“Søren, we’ve only been back together for a year,” she reminded him, reluctant to leave him for a day much less the entire summer.
“I know, Eleanor.” Søren stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her stomach. “But you have to trust me, trust that I know what I’m doing. I need you to help Michael. I need you to help me.”
I need you…. The infamous underground community they belonged to universally considered Søren its top dominant. Søren had even earned the nickname the Alpha and Omega Male. But those words—I need you—had escaped his lips more times than most who thought they knew him would believe. During their five years apart, Nora would sometimes be awoken early in the morning by a phone call and those three words from Søren. Although she had left him, she never told him no on those rare occasions that he called. Sometimes even he could not rein in his own dark desires. I need you, he would say, and Nora would leave her bed and answer simply, Okay. Tell me where and when.
“Okay.” She answered that need now. “Where and when?”
“As soon as possible, I’m afraid. And I’ll leave the where to you. I would only suggest you go far enough away that no one would attempt to follow you.”
“England?” she asked. “Zach and Grace are trying to get pregnant. This is something I can help them with. Or at least, you know, watch.”
“Out of the question,” Søren said. “I know how you behave in other countries. That you still are allowed a passport is one of the universe’s great mysteries.”
“That was not my fault,” she reminded him. “The consulate cleared me.”
“Eleanor …”
“Fine. We’ll go to Griffin’s,” she said. “He inherited his grandparents’ old horse farm, and he’s been bugging me for months to visit. How’s that?”
Søren heaved a labored sigh. “Griffin …”
Nora bit back a laugh. “Come on, Griffin’s okay. He’s one of my best friends.”
“He’s spoiled, juvenile and a coward.”
He was also rich, gorgeous and great in bed, but she decided not to remind Søren of those facts.
“You always call him a coward. Care to tell me why?” She turned around in his arms.
“No. But I suppose even Griffin deserves a second chance.”
Although curious what Søren meant by a second chance, Nora knew better than to ask. For a moment Søren stood in silence. He tapped his chin as he always did when plotting something.
“I’ll allow you to spend the summer with Griffin,” Søren finally said. “But he is not to touch Michael, or I will revoke both his key to The 8th Circle and you from his life completely. Understood?”
Nora blanched. Serious threats indeed. “Yes, sir.”
“Where is his grandparents’ farm?”
“Way upstate,” she said. “Near Guilford.”
Søren looked at her sharply and his mouth twitched in suppressed mirth.
“That area is rather close to where your mother is, isn’t it?” he asked. “Perhaps you could take a day and visit her.”
“Don’t even think about it,” she said, horrified by the prospect of Søren ordering her to visit her mother. “I’d rather go jogging in hell. Wearing stilettos on a hot day in Aug—”
“Eleanor.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Your cleavage is chirping.”
Nora swallowed and pulled her cell phone from her bra where she’d tucked it before Mass.
“Sorry. Forgot to turn it off.” Nora silenced the ringer.
Søren stared at her. Nora stared back. As usual, Søren won the staring contest.
“It’s Wes,” she confessed, not even having to look at the number. Sunday afternoon—always Wesley.
Søren studied her. This time she couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Does Wesley call you often?”
Nora nodded. “Once a week,” she admitted. “Every Sunday after church.”
“And why is this the first time I’ve heard about this?”
“Doesn’t matter. I never answer.”
“Why don’t you answer the phone when Wesley calls?” Søren asked her in the same tone he used in the confessional booth—lightly curious, not at all condemning, and completely and utterly infuriating.
“Because you haven’t given me permission to.”
“You’ve never asked permission. Were you afraid I would tell you no?”
Nora bit her bottom lip, a nervous habit Søren had been trying to break her of since she was fifteen. Søren reached out and brushed his thumb over her mouth. Nora looked up at him.
“I was afraid you’d tell me yes.”
Søren slowly nodded.
“I love you,” she said, standing up straight. “And I’ll leave you this summer, but only because you’re making me go. But if they pick you to be bishop, I’m going to move to L.A. and convert to Scientology. Fair warning.”
Relief washed through her at the sight of Søren’s smile. But she knew they weren’t done talking about Wesley.
“Michael’s waiting for you outside. I think he would appreciate an explanation and a ride home.”
“I can do both,” she said and started for the door. She paused before leaving and turned around. “Can’t believe I have to spend the whole summer without you just because of this stupid promotion.”
Søren said nothing but Nora saw something flicker across his eyes.
“It’s just the promotion, right?” she asked. “There isn’t anything else, is there?” A sudden fear gripped Nora, a fear that Søren didn’t want her around for some other reason.
“Kingsley called. Last night, someone broke into his town house.”
Nora’s eyes widened.
“Is he okay? Was Juliette there? What happened?” Her heart raced; Nora’s mind immediately flew to the worst-case scenario—that Kingsley and his beautiful Haitian secretary were hurt.
“He and Juliette are both fine. They were … distracted last night. Someone drugged the dogs and stole a file from Kingsley’s private office.”
Nora collapsed into a chair. Whoever the thief was must have balls of steel. Kingsley’s name alone usually scared off anyone who lusted after a piece of the reams of blackmail material he had on nearly every cop, judge, politician and lawyer in the tristate area. If his name didn’t scare off thieves, then his well-trained rottweiler pack usually did.
“Just one file? That’s good at least.”
“Eleanor—it was your file.”
“Mine? Why mine? I’m not even a dominatrix anymore.” The words hurt coming out, more than she expected. While she’d been a dominatrix in Kingsley’s employ, she bitched about it constantly. Now that she’d quit, she found she sort of missed it. Just another thing to add to her “miss every day” list, a list that was growing dangerously long.
“I wish I knew, little one. Kingsley believes an old client might be attempting to dispose of any evidence concerning him.”
“Makes sense, I guess.” Back in her dominatrix days, Nora’s client roster read like a Who’s Who of the rich, famous and kinky; Fortune 500 CEOs, high-level politicians and rock stars had paid through the nose to kiss the toe of her boot. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Whoever he is won’t be able to read what’s in the file.”
Kingsley and Juliette were the perfect team. Kingsley’s files were notorious for two reasons—first, they contained the secrets of an entire city, and second, they were utterly unintelligible to anyone but Kingsley and Juliette. Only they could read the pages written in encoded Haitian Creole.
“It’s the motivation, not the crime, that concerns me,” Søren said. “Still, simply one more reason why you should spend some time away from the city while Kingsley and I sort this out.”
“I could help sort things out if you’d let me. I’m not fifteen anymore, remember?”
Søren stood up and came to her. He held out his hand and she took it. Gently he pulled her to her feet and stared down into her eyes.
“You are my heart,” he said. He’d said those very words to her that morning. But that morning they’d sounded affectionate and playful. Now he said them as if he were stating a fact of anatomy. “I will not lose you. I’m sending you away to keep you safe. Do you understand that? Say ‘Yes, sir.’”
Nora nodded and swallowed a sudden lump in her throat.
“Yes, sir.”
Søren bent his head and kissed her long and slow before pulling back. Relaxing against him she put her ear to his chest. She loved hearing the steady beat of his heart. She’d called Søren dangerous, and to those who crossed him, he certainly was. Whoever it was who stole her file … she didn’t envy him. But Søren was not evil. He had the best heart of any man she’d ever known. A strong and good heart.
“My heart,” she whispered and gazed up at Søren.
“Rest assured, little one,” Søren said as he ran his hands possessively from her neck down her back, “I may send you away, but I will give you a goodbye that will hold you all summer.”
Michael waited outside of Father S’s office hoping that was what he was supposed to be doing. He sat on the bench with his skateboard under his feet and rolled it mindlessly back and forth while recalling every word Nora and Father S had said. The priest who was going to be the next bishop was being transferred. Father S was on the short list of candidates to be the next bishop. Father S wanted him and Nora to go away for the summer. He was supposed to spend the entire summer away with Nora Sutherlin.
The entire summer … with Nora Sutherlin …
Michael had dreams like that. Just last night he’d had a dream like that.
Nora emerged from Father S’s office and smiled at him.
“Good, I’m glad you waited. Want a ride home?”
Michael shrugged and stood up. He couldn’t believe this—over a year without saying a word to each other and now she was offering to drive him home?
“Sure. Thanks.”
The parking lot sat deserted but for a shiny two-seater silver convertible.
“Like it?” Nora clicked the button on her keys to unlock the car.
“Yeah. Awesome,” Michael said, walking around the car. He bit his lip with suppressed laughter when he saw Nora’s vanity license plate: it read NC-17.
Nora stood in front of her car and studied it.
“Decided to treat myself last month. Not as nice as my Aston Martin, but a BMW Z4 Roadster is nothing to sneeze at. I’m a fan of fine German engineering.”
Michael looked her trim but curvaceous body up and down—talk about fine German engineering. He started to say that out loud, knowing she’d laugh at the compliment and the reference to her German background. But as usual he couldn’t get the words out.
“Here, you drive.” She tossed him the keys.
Michael reached out and caught the keys with his fingertips.
“You want me to drive your brand-new BMW?”
“You’re old enough to drive, right?” She opened the passenger-side door and looked over the top of the car at him. “And considering I’ve let you inside my body, it’s not that big of a stretch to let you drive my car, right?”
She dropped into the seat and closed the door.
Michael’s knees buckled at her words. Taking a deep breath, he opened the driver-side door. He slid his skateboard behind the seat and sat down slowly behind the wheel.
“Let’s talk,” Nora began as he started the ignition and started to drive. “Well, you don’t talk so you can listen while I talk.”
