The Mistress
Page 53
“I know you can. If anyone can work the necessary miracles it’s you two.”
“Good. Bien. Now get out of your house.”
“I’m going.”
Kingsley followed Daniel from the library. They passed the well-appointed but comfortable living room where Grace sat curled up on a couch. At the back of the room, Wesley stood staring out the window in the direction of Elizabeth’s home. They couldn’t see it from Daniel’s house but perhaps it gave him some comfort to turn toward Nora like a faithful Muslim toward Mecca. Laila came up to him and offered him a cup of something—coffee or tea, Kingsley couldn’t tell. Wesley thanked her and Laila’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.
“So he’s not Laila’s boyfriend?” Daniel whispered to Kingsley.
“Non.”
“Has anyone told Laila that?”
“Not yet.”
Kingsley followed Daniel all the way upstairs to his bedroom and supervised the packing. He knew Daniel would keep to his word and leave the house to them. But he couldn’t stomach being in the presence of the grief-stricken huddled masses down in the living room, and he could barely look Søren in the eye for the pain and fear lurking behind his steady gray gaze.
“Do you know what you’re going to do yet?” Daniel asked as soon as he’d packed the basics in his suitcase.
“Oui,” Kingsley said simply. Luckily Daniel was one of the more intelligent men he’d ever met, and he had to say nothing more than that.
“Be careful, okay?”
“You know, with my connections, I could assassinate the governor of New York in broad daylight and not get arrested.”
“I know all about your connections. It’s not the police I’m worried about. I don’t want any more reasons to have to visit cemeteries. I’d much rather visit you in prison. In fact, I might have fantasized about it a time or two.”
“No prisons, no cemeteries,” Kingsley pledged.
“I’m holding you to that.”
“Go, Daniel. Go and f**k your wife for me.”
“Happily. After I f**k her for me. Try not to break anything while I’m gone. I kind of like my house.”
“I’ll only break the bed.”
Daniel paused on the threshold of the door.
“I know you’re terrified, King. I know you’re pretending not to be for all our sakes.”
Kingsley said nothing in reply. To deny would be a lie. To agree would be to admit weakness.
“And I know...” Daniel continued, “I know you and Eleanor have had your differences. I know you and him—”
“I love him,” Kingsley said.
“I know you do. Please, don’t let that cloud your judgment.”
“I’m not going to let her die on the off chance he and I can be together. She’s one of mine. I promised him when she started working for me that I would keep her safe. One promise I intend to keep.”
“I didn’t think you’d let her die to get him. I just...” Daniel paused and raised his hand. He started ticking off on his fingers. “She saved me.”
“I’ll save them,” Kingsley pledged, and the use of “them” was no slip of the tongue. If she died, there would be no hole they could dig wide or deep enough to bury Søren’s grief. He knew this for a fact. He knew this because he once overheard Søren saying it. That was the day they buried Maggie, Daniel’s first wife.
“I know you will.” Daniel turned again but immediately spun back around. “To answer your question from earlier, it’s Marius, age nine. Byrony, age seven. Willa, age six, Archer, age four. Oh, and Leonard.”
“Leonard?”
“The goddamn cat. The other baby in the family.”
Kingsley laughed.
“You have to blame Anya if you don’t like the names,” Daniel continued. “Her rule—she has the babies, she names the babies.”
Kingsley swallowed a sudden knot in his throat. It took all his strength to meet Daniel’s eyes and speak in an unbroken voice.
“They’re beautiful names.”
“Thank you.”
“You should be with them.”
“I’m going. You’ll call when this is over.”
“Non,” Kingsley said. “She will call.”
“She better.”
“And knowing her, she’ll demand phone sex.”
“If she insists.”
Daniel gave Kingsley a long searching look, one Kingsley tried to ignore. He turned and left Kingsley alone in the master bedroom. As soon as he was alone, Kingsley sank down onto the bed, letting his guard down finally. He couldn’t let his fears overwhelm him, not when he had a job to do.
Closing his eyes, he tried running through what he remembered about Elizabeth’s home—the layout, the rooms, possible places to hide, the trees—but instead he heard Daniel’s voice. Marius, Byrony, Willa, Archer... Long ago he’d forgiven Nora for her choice not to have his child. His shock of the discovery had translated into horror to her. How many times on his bathroom floor that morning had she told him she was sorry...so f**king sorry...accident...had no intention, she swore to God. And no matter how much he tried to calm her down, she’d remained frantic, terrified, her entire life before her hanging in the balance. Every moment with Søren she had to steal. A child would steal the already too few hours he could make for her. So he let her make the choice and didn’t try to sway her, didn’t tell her the secret truth.
“Good. Bien. Now get out of your house.”
“I’m going.”
Kingsley followed Daniel from the library. They passed the well-appointed but comfortable living room where Grace sat curled up on a couch. At the back of the room, Wesley stood staring out the window in the direction of Elizabeth’s home. They couldn’t see it from Daniel’s house but perhaps it gave him some comfort to turn toward Nora like a faithful Muslim toward Mecca. Laila came up to him and offered him a cup of something—coffee or tea, Kingsley couldn’t tell. Wesley thanked her and Laila’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.
“So he’s not Laila’s boyfriend?” Daniel whispered to Kingsley.
“Non.”
“Has anyone told Laila that?”
“Not yet.”
Kingsley followed Daniel all the way upstairs to his bedroom and supervised the packing. He knew Daniel would keep to his word and leave the house to them. But he couldn’t stomach being in the presence of the grief-stricken huddled masses down in the living room, and he could barely look Søren in the eye for the pain and fear lurking behind his steady gray gaze.
“Do you know what you’re going to do yet?” Daniel asked as soon as he’d packed the basics in his suitcase.
“Oui,” Kingsley said simply. Luckily Daniel was one of the more intelligent men he’d ever met, and he had to say nothing more than that.
“Be careful, okay?”
“You know, with my connections, I could assassinate the governor of New York in broad daylight and not get arrested.”
“I know all about your connections. It’s not the police I’m worried about. I don’t want any more reasons to have to visit cemeteries. I’d much rather visit you in prison. In fact, I might have fantasized about it a time or two.”
“No prisons, no cemeteries,” Kingsley pledged.
“I’m holding you to that.”
“Go, Daniel. Go and f**k your wife for me.”
“Happily. After I f**k her for me. Try not to break anything while I’m gone. I kind of like my house.”
“I’ll only break the bed.”
Daniel paused on the threshold of the door.
“I know you’re terrified, King. I know you’re pretending not to be for all our sakes.”
Kingsley said nothing in reply. To deny would be a lie. To agree would be to admit weakness.
“And I know...” Daniel continued, “I know you and Eleanor have had your differences. I know you and him—”
“I love him,” Kingsley said.
“I know you do. Please, don’t let that cloud your judgment.”
“I’m not going to let her die on the off chance he and I can be together. She’s one of mine. I promised him when she started working for me that I would keep her safe. One promise I intend to keep.”
“I didn’t think you’d let her die to get him. I just...” Daniel paused and raised his hand. He started ticking off on his fingers. “She saved me.”
“I’ll save them,” Kingsley pledged, and the use of “them” was no slip of the tongue. If she died, there would be no hole they could dig wide or deep enough to bury Søren’s grief. He knew this for a fact. He knew this because he once overheard Søren saying it. That was the day they buried Maggie, Daniel’s first wife.
“I know you will.” Daniel turned again but immediately spun back around. “To answer your question from earlier, it’s Marius, age nine. Byrony, age seven. Willa, age six, Archer, age four. Oh, and Leonard.”
“Leonard?”
“The goddamn cat. The other baby in the family.”
Kingsley laughed.
“You have to blame Anya if you don’t like the names,” Daniel continued. “Her rule—she has the babies, she names the babies.”
Kingsley swallowed a sudden knot in his throat. It took all his strength to meet Daniel’s eyes and speak in an unbroken voice.
“They’re beautiful names.”
“Thank you.”
“You should be with them.”
“I’m going. You’ll call when this is over.”
“Non,” Kingsley said. “She will call.”
“She better.”
“And knowing her, she’ll demand phone sex.”
“If she insists.”
Daniel gave Kingsley a long searching look, one Kingsley tried to ignore. He turned and left Kingsley alone in the master bedroom. As soon as he was alone, Kingsley sank down onto the bed, letting his guard down finally. He couldn’t let his fears overwhelm him, not when he had a job to do.
Closing his eyes, he tried running through what he remembered about Elizabeth’s home—the layout, the rooms, possible places to hide, the trees—but instead he heard Daniel’s voice. Marius, Byrony, Willa, Archer... Long ago he’d forgiven Nora for her choice not to have his child. His shock of the discovery had translated into horror to her. How many times on his bathroom floor that morning had she told him she was sorry...so f**king sorry...accident...had no intention, she swore to God. And no matter how much he tried to calm her down, she’d remained frantic, terrified, her entire life before her hanging in the balance. Every moment with Søren she had to steal. A child would steal the already too few hours he could make for her. So he let her make the choice and didn’t try to sway her, didn’t tell her the secret truth.
