The Saint. Tiffany Reisz

and I realize that. If we have to negotiate, then we have to negotiate. I accept your terms. Can you accept mine?”

      Eleanor slowly raised her hand off the desk and put her fingers into his.

      “Okay,” she said. “You got me. I’m yours.”

      He wrapped his much larger hand around hers. She expected his hand to be cold for some reason. He had such cold eyes, such an icy demeanor, but no, his skin was warm and she couldn’t help but imagine him touching her in far more intimate places than her hand.

      “Forever,” she said.

      And he said, “Everything.”

      The deal was done. They released each other’s hands and Søren stood up.

      “I’ll leave you now. Do not answer any questions until you speak to an attorney. The church will pay your legal fees. Rest assured you will pay us back for them in time.”

      “Okay.” The fear had returned. She didn’t want him to leave her. Not now. Not ever.

      “When your lawyer arrives, tell her the entire truth and leave nothing out. Your father was involved, no doubt. You need to tell the lawyer the level of his involvement.”

      “Rat out my dad? No way.”

      “Eleanor, less than one minute ago you promised to obey me forever. These are your orders. Your father is the reason you are here in this police station in the middle of the night with your entire future hanging in the balance. You are here. He isn’t. You will tell the lawyer and the court everything you know about your father and his illegal enterprises. You should be able to parlay that into a plea agreement or a very reduced sentence. In the meantime, I’ll meet with my friend who has useful connections. I will leave nothing to chance where you are concerned.”

      He took two steps toward the door.

      “Eleanor?”

      “Yeah?”

      He gave her a smile, this one showing his kindness and concern.

      “I will take care of you. Forever.”

      She returned his smile as best she could.

      “This friend of yours, he’ll really help me?”

      “He will.”

      “How come?”

      “Add that question to your list.”

      Eleanor rolled her eyes and exhaled heavily as she wrote Why will your friend help me?

      “I’m gonna need legal-size paper for this freaking list. Anything else?”

      “Yes. You’re missing a question on your list.”

      “I got them all. What am I missing?”

      Søren returned to the table, took the pen and paper from her and wrote nine words. And without a word, he slapped the cuffs back on her wrists and left her alone in the room.

      Eleanor looked down at the paper and read the question he’d written in his elegant, masculine handwriting.

       Why would a priest have his own handcuff key?

9

       Nora

      NICO DROPPED HIS HEAD AND LAUGHED, RUBBING the back of his neck in consternation and amusement. Nora put her toe under his chin and lifted it.

      Nora put on her best dominant face.

      “Young man, do you think it’s hilarious that I stole cars for my father and got arrested? I promise you I didn’t find it funny.”

      “That’s not funny. You at fifteen forcing your priest to agree to sleep with you is funny.”

      “I admit I was pretty damn proud of myself for my negotiating skills.”

      “More like hostage taking. If you hadn’t obeyed him …”

      “Bye, bye, Catholic high school. Hello, juvie.”

      “Didn’t he scare you? You were fifteen. He was twenty-nine.”

      “Had it been any other man it probably would have scared me. But with Søren, everything felt like destiny. When we met he said, ‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.’ We’d both been waiting for each other, like it was meant to be that we would find and love each other. We belonged together—me, Søren, Kingsley. Getting arrested brought all three of us together.”

      “So it was Kingsley your priest was talking about?” Nico held out his hand to her and helped her out of the chair. She could have done it herself. But she wasn’t about to turn down a chance to let Nico touch her any way he wanted.

      “It was. The friend Søren said had connections and could help get my ass out of the hot seat? That was your father.”

      Nico grabbed their glasses and the wine bottle and led her up the stairs. Despite the fire, the downstairs had grown colder as midnight neared, and it was hard to think and speak of the past with the silver box on the fireplace mantel in front of her, its contents so precious and so terrifying.

      “Kingsley has interesting friends,” Nico said as they entered the bedroom. He set the wine and glasses down on the bedside table and went to work building the fire back up.

      “And even more interesting enemies. Kingsley and I share something in common—we’re both fascinated by other people,” Nora said, pulling the covers back. “Where we differ is that when I’m fascinated by someone, I fuck him. When Kingsley is fascinated by someone, he fucks with him.”

      Nico laughed and walked back to the bed. He kissed her neck and nipped lightly at her shoulder.

      “Is that why you let me inside you?” he whispered in her ear. “You’re fascinated by me?”

      “That’s part of it, yes. You’re my first farmer.” She pulled away and smiled up at him.

      “You’re my first dominatrix.”

      “But not your first shamefully older woman?” she asked as she slid into bed and propped herself up on the pillows. Nico pulled off his shirt. Such an exquisite male form. Where was her camera when she needed it?

      “My last girlfriend was forty-three,” he said.

      “Forty-three? Jesus, you do have a Mrs. Robinson complex, don’t you?”

      “It’s a choice, not a complex,” he said. “Life is short. I don’t want to spend it with someone my age who doesn’t know anything more about life than I do. I have a friend, she’s my age. She’s funny, beautiful, smart. Everyone thinks we should be together. But she always has money trouble, always has a crisis. She’s forever calling her father for help. She doesn’t know what to do with her life. I love her, but I couldn’t be with someone like that. I own a successful vineyard. I have employees, people who depend on me. My last girlfriend owned a château and had a staff of ten people working for her. Even with the age difference we had more in common than my friend who’s my age who changes jobs and boyfriends every six months.”

      “I don’t have a château, only a house. A big damn house, but no one works for me. I did have an intern once, though. Unpaid.” She conjured one little memory and held it in the palm of her hand. She smiled at it, loved it a moment and then let it go.

      “Women and wine always get better with age,” Nico said.

      “I want to think that. I get richer with age anyway. I’m at the point where I have more money than I know what to do with.”

      “Buy more time to spend with me, maybe?”

      Nora narrowed her eyes at him.

      “Did an older woman teach