The Mistress. Tiffany Reisz
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stopped talking and took a drink of her water.
“Are you angry?” Zachary asked, and she heard real concern in his voice. They teased each other often about that year they spent apart, he in America, she still in London. That year had been so hard and so hellish for the both of them that the only way they could face the memory of it was by mocking it, defying it to have any power over their marriage.
“No, I’m not angry. I think I’d worry about you if you weren’t still attracted to her. My only worry is …”
“What?”
“I’m sure this won’t make any sense but … do you miss her? Or do you miss it? Nora’s quite specific. There’s no one like her so I understand if you miss her. But if you miss it, miss the sort of sex you had with her that you and I don’t have, then I’d be worried.”
“I miss her,” he said, and Grace believed him. “I won’t lie. She and I had an amazing passionate night together. I saw another world with her, a world I never even dreamed existed. It was eye-opening to say the least, and I’m certainly glad I got to see it. But it’s not my world. You’re my world.”
“You’re my world, too,” she confessed, smiling through tears. They’d only been apart two days and she was already getting emotional and maudlin. Damn Zachary for being so lovable, so missable.
“So we’re all right? You forgive your husband for occasionally having fond reminisces about a wild American girl he once—”
“Once?”
“Or twice. Or … more than twice.”
“It’s unfair. I know I’m supposed to be jealous that you had a night of sex with a beautiful woman who writes torrid books and lives a scandalous life,” she said in her most dramatic Masterpiece Theater voice. “But really I’m jealous that you got to see that world. What does she call it?”
“The Underground.”
“Yes, you got to see the Underground. S&M clubs and Dominatrixes and wealthy and powerful deviants. Meanwhile, I was falling asleep in my tea while Ian droned on about bloody exchange rates.”
“So you’re telling me that you’re not jealous that I slept with Nora Sutherlin and still miss her from time to time. You’re jealous that I had more fun committing adultery than you did.”
“Entirely correct.”
“You’re not far from the city. Call Nora. Tell her to show you the Underground. Have some fun adultery for once.”
Grace felt her conscience bite her. Not much of a bite. More a nibble.
“I did call Nora already,” Grace confessed. “Got her voice mail. Thought we could meet for a drink.”
“Nora doesn’t have one drink. She has drinks—plural. And kinks—plural. Be prepared for a long night if you end up in the passenger seat of her car.”
“I’ll say my prayers. Are you sure you’ll be fine with me spending some time with her?”
She heard him sigh and her heart clenched to hear it. She could picture his face right now, so striking with his ice-blue eyes and thoughtfully furrowed brow.
“Gracie, I know you’ve been under so much stress lately. I know how hard this has been on you.”
He didn’t have to say what “this” was. This was their failed quest to get pregnant that had left them both emotionally exhausted.
“A little,” she admitted in a choked whisper.
“Go have fun, darling. You deserve a night off.”
“So … how much fun are you willing to let me have?”
“As much as you want. I had mine. You go have yours. Be careful and don’t give me any details about it the next day. Ignorance is bliss.”
“What if you find a black tie in my coat pocket that smells like some handsome bloke?”
“I’ll think positively. I’ll pretend you murdered a stranger and kept the tie as a memento.”
“Fair enough.”
“Call Nora again. Give her my lust. And tell her to please write a book that isn’t specifically designed to get us all arrested next time. Oh, and remind her that her edits are due on Monday.”
“I’ll pass the message along. If you need me, I’ll be in the Underground. So try not to need me.”
“Have a good time. Be safe. Stay away from men in collars.”
“Are the male submissives dangerous?” she asked, feeling rather proud she knew the terminology.
“I was talking about priests.”
They bid their good-nights and Grace hung up the phone. Priests … as if she could stay away from Nora’s priest. Ever since Zachary first told her about Søren, Grace knew she had to meet this man someday. During her first phone call with Nora, she’d grilled her relentlessly, fascinated to speak to a woman who had a Catholic priest for a lover.
A priest … really?
My priest. He’s been my priest since I was fifteen years old. I hope you’re scandalized. It’s no fun if you’re not scandalized.
Thoroughly scandalized. Is he handsome?
Is the pope Catholic?
I’ll take that as a yes. Zachary’s not very fond of him.
Zach has terrible taste in men.
He said Søren wasn’t nice.
Søren isn’t nice. But he’s good.
Good? How good?
He’s the best man on earth.
That’s quite a claim. I’ll have to meet this man if he’s the best man on earth.
I’ll introduce you someday. One word of advice—show no fear.
Show no fear?
Seriously. He’s like a big cat with a catnip toy if you give him your fear to play with.
How big of a cat are we talking about?
Lion. Big damn lion.
You make him sound dangerous.
Oh, he is dangerous. Just part of his charm. But he’s not half as dangerous as Kingsley is. Søren calls the shots. Kingsley’s the trig-german.
And what do you do?
You already know the answer to that, Grace. Anything I want to.
Grace found herself smiling again at the memory of the conversation. Zachary did say he trusted her, and she had to admit she’d rather regret not taking him up on his offer. She and Zachary almost always vacationed in Rhode Island in August, the week before her school year started again. Only his conference in Australia had been moved and now they were on opposite ends of the earth. Would be nice having a little adventure. And she did want to meet this priest of Nora’s. Any man who scared her husband, the infamous London Fog of publishing, that was a man she had to meet.
Grace picked up the phone again and dialed Nora.
This time someone answered.
But it wasn’t Nora.
5 THE PAWN
Laila slipped off her shoes and socks and stepped