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* * *
Thoughts of Zach kept intruding on Nora’s writing. She desperately wanted to get her chapters done even though she knew she had too much work to play with him tonight. Then again, just because she was too busy for Zach didn’t mean he was off the hook entirely. Nora picked up her phone and had the number she needed after one call.
The phone rang twice before a nervous voice answered.
“Yes, hello?” the girl on the other end said.
“Hello, little bird. Guess who?”
Nora smiled at the gasp she heard on the other end of the line. Kingsley had fantastic taste in the women of his coterie these days. He never cared if they could afford the membership dues as long as they had other ways of earning their keep. Invariably, Kingsley’s ladies-in-waiting all had very useful talents inside and outside the bedroom.
“Told you I’d remember your name, Robin. King told me about your day job. Do you have an hour or two to do a favor for me today? I’m an excellent tipper.”
“Anything for you, mistress.”
Nora gave the girl her instructions and hung up the phone. She forced thoughts of Zach aside and got back to writing.
* * *
Zach checked his watch—almost five-thirty. He’d been on the phone for the past two hours with his soon-to-be assistant at the West Coast offices. They’d been discussing upcoming projects when Mary buzzed him with news of a visitor.
“Come in.” A young woman he didn’t recognize entered with a large tote bag and a rolling table.
“Mr. Easton? Nice to see you again,” she said.
“Have we met?” Zach asked, standing up.
“Yes, I’m Robin. We met last night.”
“Of course, from the—”
“The club.” She cut him off before he said the 8th Circle’s name.
Zach did recognize her now. Out of her costume and with her hair up and wearing retro-chic glasses, she looked like a very different person from the provocatively dressed cigarette girl.
“Right. The club. What can I do for you?”
The girl turned and closed his office door, locking it behind her.
“You can take your clothes off, Mr. Easton.”
An hour and a half later Zach shut the door behind Robin and sank into his chair. He was glad she’d come late enough in the day that almost everyone had already left. He’d been reluctant at first but a professional massage was a gift impossible to refuse. The girl had marvelous hands and she spent well over an hour working out every single knot of tension in his entire body. His muscles felt as loose as a sea anemone. He owed Nora a huge thank-you for arranging the massage. Since she wasn’t quite allowed to put her hands on him yet, she’d obviously gone looking for a loophole and found one.
Zach stretched his arms and enjoyed how calm he felt, how peaceful. It had been over a year and a half at least since he’d felt even remotely this relaxed. His marriage to Grace had begun as a nightmare but had turned quickly into his best dream. But like any dream, it couldn’t be trusted. Something dark always lurked around the corner in dreams. And one day that something dark started showing itself even while he was wide-awake. Grace started conversations with him, terrifying conversations he refused to finish. And then something had happened with her, or maybe it had happened with him. All he knew was Grace had started to fade out on him and there’d been nothing he could do. She just slowly shut down on him like a watch someone forgot to wind.
Having Robin’s hands on him had been such a strange revelation. He’d shared with Nora an incredible sexual intimacy the night they’d gotten drunk in her office and then last night in her Aston Martin. But just to be touched by another woman, to have his back touched, his arms and legs…to be touched in a way that was sensual but not sexual felt as foreign to him as that night with Nora. Foreign but not frightening. He wondered if he saw Grace again, would he be able to be more open to her than before? He’d love to touch her the way Robin had touched him. He’d love to teach her a few of the things he’d learned from Nora.
The phone rang and Zach smiled. He had one guess who would be calling his office this late in the evening.
“Nora, you’re the very devil,” he said as he put the phone to his ear. “But I’m not complaining.”
Zach heard a slight intake of breath on the other end of the line followed by a static-filled pause.
“Zachary?” came a voice he would recognize a thousand miles or a thousand years away.
Zach sat up ramrod straight; his heart raced. Everything that had been relaxed a moment ago became a live wire of tension again.
“Grace…” he breathed. “I’m sorry. I thought you were one of my writers. Nora Sutherlin—she’s a loony. I think you’d like her. But I’m rambling like an idiot. How are you?”
He lived and died through another terrible pause.
“You’ve never rambled like an idiot in your life,” Grace said in her lilting Welsh accent, and Zach could picture the smile on her face as she said it. “I’ve never heard you so friendly with one of your writers before. You’re usually telling them what berks and idiots they are. This one must be special.”
“She’s stark raving mad, and I’m terrified of her. How are you?” he asked again and winced. He really was making an idiot of himself.
“I’m in the dark, quite literally, I’m afraid. I just walked in the door and all the lights are out. I can’t find the torch anywhere. I’m just glad I had my mobile with me.”
“Is it a blackout or just our house?” Zach winced again. Was he even allowed to say “our house” anymore?
“Blackout, I think. The whole street is dark. I called the power company. Should be on again by morning, but until I find the bloody torch, I’m afraid to move.”
Zach imagined Grace sitting at the kitchen table in the dark debating whether or not it was enough of an emergency to call him. She said she’d just gotten home. But it was nearly midnight in London. He didn’t want to imagine where she’d come from.
“Let me think. Did you try the drawer?”
“By the stove? Yes, I looked there first. Found everything but the light.”
“No, it isn’t there. You’re right. It’s in the cupboard in the utility room. I remember stashing it there now.”
“I’ll check.”
“Be careful.”
Zach heard Grace’s tentative footsteps and the sound of a door opening.
“Found it. Second shelf near the back.”
“Good,” Zach said, desperate to find a way to keep her on the line a little longer. “Be careful if you light any candles.”
“I will be,” Grace replied, a faint note of amusement in her voice.
“If the lights don’t come on soon, stay the night at—” Zach stopped and swallowed. “Stay with a friend. If the lights are off, the alarm might be, as well.”
“I’m sure I’ll survive the night.” He heard the smile in her voice. “If I need more help, I’ll ring you again.”
“Please do.” Zach rubbed his face. “Did you need me? Need anything else?”
Zach heard that pause again. He needed her. He needed her to say she loved him, or that she hated him, or that she wanted a divorce or wanted him back or wanted him dead or wanted him home right now rescuing her from the dark like any good husband would. He needed something from her because he could not and would not go on like this anymore.
“No,” Grace finally said. “I have the torch now. Thanks again.”
“Sure. Right then,” Zach said, his stomach falling and taking his heart with it. “Of course.”
Zach didn’t hang up the phone. He held his breath and listened, waiting for that awful little click. When it came he flinched as if he’d heard a gunshot. He held the buzzing receiver until the line died and then finally hung it up.
25
Nora woke up on Thursday morning with a smile on her face. She dressed in her favorite suit—her business kink black skirt, her knee-high black boots and a white blouse with a black tie. She heard a whistle as she walked past Wesley’s door.
“Did you just whistle at me, young man?” Nora asked, pausing in Wesley’s doorway.
“I did,” he said as he stuffed his laptop into his backpack. “Where are you going today looking so nice?”
Nora came close to blushing. She knew Wesley was attracted to her. He was nineteen, after all, and she wasn’t hideous. But he always tried to treat her as just a friend and roommate. But since their intimate encounter Monday night, he’d been more playful with her, more flirtatious. She was starting to like it.
“I’m going to Kingsley’s.” Wesley’s smile faded. “To tell him I’m quitting.”
The smile came back.
“Zach signed the contract?” Wesley looked so happy and hopeful it broke her heart.
“Not yet. But he will.”
Wesley came over to her with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He looked so cute and young right now with his baseball cap on his shaggy hair that she wanted to throw him down on his bed and put her tie to better use.
“I’ve gotta get to class. But maybe we can hang out later today. We should celebrate you quitting your job.”
“What did you have in mind?” Nora stepped closer to him. In her heels she was tall enough to kiss him.
Wesley leaned close and put his mouth to her ear. “I was thinking…we could…”
Nora held her breath.
“…rent a movie.” Wesley slapped her playfully on her bottom and brushed past her.
“Sadist!” she yelled out and took a breath, her heart racing. The door opened and closed and Wesley’s car started. She tried to remember what she was doing. Kingsley—that was it.
Nora drove the Aston Martin to one of Manhattan’s oldest and most elegant town houses. It wasn’t just a private home but the headquarters of New York’s most thriving underground business. She handed the keys to the doorman and climbed the front staircase to the third floor. Striding down the hallway, she went through the double doors at the end without knocking.
Four huge black Rottweilers charged at her.
“Down, kids.” She laughed as she petted the massive beasts.
“Brutus, Dominic, Sadie, Max, down,” the man behind the desk ordered tiredly and snapped his fingers. All four dogs sat and stared up at Nora as if waiting for her to countermand the order.
Nora left the whimpering dogs by the door and headed to the ebony desk. Behind it reclined a man she knew no one would believe owned such a posh establishment. He’d pulled his long dark hair into a low ponytail tied with a black silk ribbon. He wore a stylishly rumpled black Victorian-era suit with a long tail and a black vest with silver buttons. His cravat was carelessly tied but that was nothing unusual. On his feet he wore his signature black riding boots. He looked like a handsomely roguish pirate someone forced into a suit and acted liked one, too—the one and only Kingsley Edge in person.
“I was at the window when you pulled up.” He paused and sipped his cocktail. “You drove the Martin, ma?tresse. You really are a tease.” He didn’t so much speak as he allowed words to saunter out of his mouth.
“I only tease the ones who pay me to tease.” Nora came around the desk and sat on the top. Not even Kingsley had an Aston Martin. She liked to remind him of that. “Miss me?”
“I miss you. My bank account misses you.”
“Your bank account is bigger than the GDP of Luxembourg, King.”
“Oui, ma?tresse.” He took a bigger swig of his drink. “But Luxembourg is such a small kingdom.”
“Cough it up,” she said. “I’ve got news.”
Sighing, Kingsley slowly rose out of his chair and strolled across the room. He picked up a small black briefcase and handed it to her. Nora tossed it aside and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.
“None of that,” Kingsley said as Nora nibbled delicately on his ear. She wanted him in a good mood for the bad news. Her hand wandered down his taut stomach. Damn beautiful Frenchman, she hated to see him pout. “And none of that, either. What’s this news of yours?”
“I quit,” she whispered.
Kingsley pulled back and raised his eyebrow at her.
“Quit?”
“Oui,” Nora said. “I adore you, Kingsley. You are annoying and frustrating, and I don’t know what I would have done without you. But my editor’s going to sign my contract. It’s time I started behaving like a real writer. Comprende?”
Kingsley sighed and kissed both of her cheeks.
“Notre pr?tre will be thrilled to hear that. And God knows I’ll be happy to go a day without him threatening my life and manhood on your behalf. It wouldn’t be so troubling except—”
“S?ren means it.”
“Bien s?r, ma chеrie,” Kingsley said and kissed her on the lips. Nora tried not to enjoy it but it was Kingsley after all. The man was half-French but his tongue was all-French. “Now that you’re a free woman, care to spend a little free time avec moi? I’ll tip you for old time’s sake, oui?”
“Je suis dеsolеe. But I’m seducing my editor this week. And besides, we both know you’re a terrible tipper.”
Nora pulled away and headed to the door.
“Elle?” Nora turned around to face him. Kingsley had changed her name to Nora Sutherlin four years ago. If he ever called her Elle anymore, it was because he wanted her complete attention. He sat on top of his desk with his cocktail again. “I tease you but your books… You make us all proud, chеrie. La communautе. Bonne chance avec le roman, ma belle dame sans merci.”
Good luck with the novel, my beautiful lady without mercy. Nora smiled.
“La belle dame avec merci,” she replied with a curtsy, touched by his kind words. Usually Kingsley had nothing but disgust for the other job that often kept her from her clients. “Merci, monsieur.”
He was still laughing when she left him.
* * *
Nora drove to Zach’s building, parked in the garage and tipped the attendant a hundred dollars to keep an eye on her car. Tipping generously came easily with the ten thousand dollars in cash Kingsley had just given her.
She tipped Zach’s doorman with equal generosity and claimed she had something to drop off at his apartment. Good thing Zach had a male doorman or sweet-talking her way inside might not have worked.
Nora found number 1312 and knocked lightly, praying Zach wasn’t working from home today. She waited and heard nothing. Opening her bag, she pulled out her small lock pick set.
