The Mistress. Tiffany Reisz

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СКАЧАТЬ with this adversary. What I need from you is this …” Kingsley reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver key ring adorned with a fleur de lis. On it were eight keys—one to each of his clubs and the town house. “I will be occupied for some time dealing with this nasty business. Someone needs to keep an eye on the Empire for me.”

      Griffin’s dark eyes widened. He held out his hand and Kingsley placed the keys in Griffin’s palm.

      “The keys to the Kingdom,” Griffin said. “I’d say thank you for the honor but I know you’re only giving them to me because you don’t have any other choice.”

      “I have dozens of staff on my payroll, many choices. I trust you. You can keep everyone in line until I come back.”

      “Do you know where Nora is? Do we know anything? Do you think we should call—”

      “The police? I know who we’re dealing with and I’m fairly sure what she wants. I wouldn’t call the police unless you want la Maîtresse dead.”

      Michael inhaled at the word dead and Kingsley had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. The poor boy, so young and innocent. He wouldn’t stay innocent long under this roof.

      “If anyone hurts Nora …” Griffin let the words hang in the air, the unspoken threat more potent than any words.

      “If anyone hurts Nora, you will have to stand in line for your retribution. I know a few who have the greater claim to her.”

      “Point taken.”

      “Now go see Sophie. She knows everything you’ll need to know. Remember, in this world it is better to be feared than loved. Keep everyone in line. Use a firm hand. You can stay in the house if you wish. Your pet, too. Although whatever you do, don’t go into my room.”

      “Do I want to know why not?”

       “Non.”

      Griffin nodded and shoved the keys into his pocket.

      “I’ll take care of the Empire. You find Nora, okay?”

      “That is the plan.”

      Griffin, with Michael trailing behind, headed toward the door. In the doorway, Michael paused and turned around.

      “Mr. Edge?”

      “What is it, Michael?”

      The young man went silent for a moment and Kingsley waited. Usually he would have scolded someone for calling him Mr. Edge. It was monsieur, Kingsley, Mr. K., or nothing at all. But today he couldn’t care less.

      “It’s only …” Michael began again, and Griffin put a comforting hand on Michael’s back. “Nora’s one of my friends.”

      “I know she is.”

      “I don’t have a lot of friends.”

      “I’ll find her,” Kingsley promised. “We’ll bring her home.”

      “Thank you. I mean … merci.”

      Kingsley gave Michael a smile as he and Griffin left him alone in the office. One of his dogs, Max, ambled in and nudged Kingsley’s hand. As Kingsley petted the dog, he thought of Sadie, the lone female of his rottweiler pack. She’d died, stabbed in the heart. Had his own sister done that? Put a knife into the chest of an animal? Surely she had help with her games. Say what one would about Nora Sutherlin, but the woman was a survivor, strong and resilient and could have easily fought off another woman. She’d been born strong and iron had sharpened iron. Submitting to a sadist had made her unbreakable. Becoming a Dominatrix had made her vicious. She’d even broken him a time or two. But that was all play. Men paid for the privilege of letting her break them. Now she was in real danger. This wasn’t sadism or some role-play between consenting adults. This was violence, real violence and danger, the most pressing danger. He’d seen her lash bloody tiger stripes onto the body of a masochistic client with her whip skills, but he’d also seen her freeze in terror when a mentally unbalanced fan had attacked her at a book signing with a knife.

      With a sigh, Kingsley ran his hands through his hair and rubbed hard at his face. If only the phone would ring, if only the letter would come with the demands and the threats. This dangerous game had only started. Marie-Laure had the board set up. What would be her opening move?

      “Marie-Laure …” he whispered to himself. “What are you waiting for?”

       “Monsieur?”

      Kingsley turned around and glared at his secretary.

      “Sophie, anything you need now must go through Griffin.”

      “But, monsieur, there’s someone here to see you.”

      “He can see Griffin.”

      “He says he’s only here to see you.”

      “He better be important.” Kingsley strode toward the door. Perhaps Marie-Laure had moved her first pawn.

      “I think he is,” Sophie said with wide, scared eyes. “He says he’s Nora Sutherlin’s fiancé.”

      

       3 THE KNIGHT

      This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t happening. How could it be happening? The questions stomped through Wesley’s mind like a spooked stallion, trampling all other thoughts, all other questions. From the moment he’d gotten off the phone with Søren he’d been moving through the hours like a robot. He’d lost feeling in his hands. His ears wouldn’t stop ringing. The world buzzed with white noise and the only thought he could hold in his head was, Why?

      He’d woken up yesterday on the floor in one of the stables. Blood on his head, static in his brain, and no Nora anywhere. He’d called Søren, who’d hung up on him the moment Wesley had told him Nora was gone and the words I will kill the bitch were written on the stable wall. With a pounding skull, Wesley had thrown a few things into his car, left a vague message for his parents about visiting friends with Nora and headed north. He didn’t dare fly. He couldn’t risk being unreachable for four hours. What if Nora had been kidnapped for ransom? He’d pay every penny he had and steal whatever else he needed to buy her back again. He stopped only for gas on the way from Kentucky to New York and to down painkillers for his splitting headache. Surely he had a concussion from whatever had hit him. But that was the least of his worries now.

      All that mattered was getting Nora back. Whatever the price.

      And this was part of the price, coming to this house that he’d never entered before but already hated. Nora had said on at least a dozen occasions that, love him or hate him, Kingsley was her go-to man for any crisis she couldn’t solve on her own. I trust Kingsley and I have good reason to. Even Søren goes to Kingsley when there’s a shitstorm, she’d said. And if I’m involved there’s usually a shitstorm. Wesley had decided then and there he never wanted to meet this Kingsley person, whom he considered to be nothing more than Nora’s pimp. Kingsley called her СКАЧАТЬ