“Vow of poverty since I was eighteen. And if you think a vow of chastity is hard to keep…” He paused, looked away, then asked, “What if I can’t go back? What if I’m too happy here?”
“Too happy would be a good problem to have.”
“I’m not sure I should get to be that happy.”
“You fathered a child with a married woman, who you had permission to be with from both me and her husband. She wanted a kid. You gave her one. You didn’t rape anyone, murder anyone. You’d didn’t even steal. And you’re only suspended for one year. Even the Jesuits don’t think it’s that big of a deal.”
“There’s more to my punishment than I told you.”
“Ah, let me guess. Therapy.”
“Yes.”
God help that poor therapist.
“Spiritual counseling?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Forty lashes?”
“You wish,” he said. “I have to attend Mass every day when possible.”
“That’s all?”
It wasn’t all. Søren went silent for a moment, and Nora braced herself.
“I also have to present a notarized letter from Grace and Zachary stating that they want me to have no formal or informal relationship with Fionn.”
Nora stared at him, wide-eyed. “Are you serious?”
“In the old days, it was normal for the Church to keep a priest’s child a secret, to cover the whole affair up. Things are changing, as they should. If a Catholic priest fathers a child, he’s expected to leave the priesthood to be a part of his child’s life. If I’m going to be allowed back in the Jesuits, Grace and Zachary have to make it clear—and legally binding—that they don’t want or need me in Fionn’s life.”
“They’ll write the letter if you want them to,” she said. “It’s just words on a piece of paper. They would never stop you from checking on him, you know.”
“I know,” he said. “I think. But the time may come when he knows. How will he feel when he finds out I picked the Church over him? That I asked to be exiled from his life?”
“It’s only a piece of paper,” she said. “If you go back to the Jesuits, they’ll do what they have to even if they don’t mean it.”
“If,” he said. “Even you’re not sure I’ll go back.”
She tapped the toe of his shoe with the toe of hers.
“How are we?” he asked, meeting her eyes again.
A serious question, so she took a second before answering. It deserved serious thought and a serious answer.
“We’re good,” she said.
“Solid?”
“Rock solid.”
“You’re certain?”
Nora smiled. “You don’t think we are?”
“I keep waiting,” he said, “for you to finally get angry at me.”
“I get angry at you all the time. I was highly perturbed at you earlier today when I was horny, and you were not there to do anything about it.”
“Angry about Fionn.”
She knew that’s what he’d meant.
“We’ve talked about it a hundred times. Hard talks. Serious talks.”
“Talked about it, yes. Never fought about it.”
“I love Fionn as much as you do. If you’re waiting for me to be angry that you wanted a kid and I didn’t, so you found a way to have a kid without trying to make me into something I’m not? You’ll have to wait a long time.”
“Still,” he said, “something tells me it’s coming. Storm clouds gathering. I can see them. Can’t you?”
“Stop being so paranoid. You’re as bad as Kingsley.”
She tapped his toe again with hers.
“The next ten months will be hard,” he said. “If I’m going to make it through this, I’ll need you.”
“You have me,” she said. “And Kingsley. Unless you tell him you can’t accept the house. Then he’ll kill you, and I’ll help him bury the body.”
“How can I accept a gift this extravagant? I’d be in his debt.”
“Allow me to explain the submissive mindset to you, Master Søren, because you clearly know nothing about it.”
“Enlighten me, Mistress Nora.” He waved his hand, indicating she had the floor.
“I know you think Kingsley gave you this house because he’s trying to coddle you or something while you’re going through a rough time. You’re worried accepting the house will throw off the balance of power. But that’s not how it works. I’ve had male clients give me tens of thousands of dollars in jewelry, vacations, cars…an Aston Martin…” She crossed herself as she spoke that hallowed name. “That’s what submissives do. They shower their masters and mistresses with tribute—gifts of worship, adoration, and gratitude—as they should.”
“Is that so?”
“It’s so. This house is not the gift of a man who sees a crying child and buys him an ice cream to cheer the kid up. This is the gift of a devoted submissive trying to show—in any way he can—that he worships the very ground you walk on. You turn down the gift of this house, you will be throwing Kingsley’s love and devotion and submission to you in his face.”
Søren said nothing. Then he smiled.
“Well, when you put it that way.”
“The way you handle it is this—he gives you the house, you look at it, nod, and say ‘I suppose it’ll do.’ Then you pat him on the head, fuck him blind, and never mention that he gave you the house again. He’ll secretly hope for a feast of gratitude. Meanwhile, you’ll dole out mere crumbs. And he will eat those crumbs off your fingertips.”
Søren reached out and patted her on the top of the head.
Nora laughed, a laugh that bounced down the hall. She grabbed his hand and held it tight.
“Now I just have to figure out a housewarming gift for you,” she said.
They locked the house up and walked back to the hotel. As they laid down in bed together, Søren wrapped her in his arms and pulled her to his chest.
“I’m still your priest, aren’t I, Little One?” he asked.
She kissed his chest over his heart. She knew if she could cut his chest open and look at his heart, she’d see her name tattooed across it, right next to Kingsley’s and Fionn’s and God’s. “You’ll always be my priest.”
Chapter Eleven
Sunday morning, when all God’s children ought to be in church, Cyrus was trying to hunt down a dominatrix.
He’d stopped by Edge’s Garden District house/palace again, and while Nora Sutherlin’s black German Shepherd came to the gate and glared at him, his owner didn’t come with him. When he buzzed the intercom, no one answered.
Cyrus considered any time after 8:30 in the morning safe for making phone calls. At 8:31, he’d called Nora’s cell phone number that had been on the card she’d given him. The call went straight to voicemail. He’d asked her to call him back, but after waiting over two hours, he decided to try again.