She dragged herself from her bed and picked her gray robe off the floor.
A pleasant sort of soreness suffused her hips and lower back. Sex with both S?ren and Lance in less than twenty-four hours? She knew some people might disapprove but she couldn’t care less. In fact, she decided she deserved a medal for her distinguished sexual service to mankind. At least a Purple Something to match her purple bruises.
Quietly and on bare feet, she padded down the stairs following the sound of Lance’s voice. He seemed to be on the phone somewhere so she didn’t want to interrupt. She’d much rather eavesdrop.
She found him in her kitchen sitting at the table wearing nothing but his jeans again. He had his cell phone to his ear and his back to the door.
“How’s school going?” he asked. “Do you like your teacher?”
He paused and Nora smiled, knowing his daughter was on the other end of the line.
“That’s good. She sounds nice. Whose birthday was it?”
Again a pause.
“That sounds like so much fun,” he agreed, his voice going so soft and tender Nora’s heart tightened as if someone had wrapped a fist around it. “I’m jealous. I want to play in a bouncy house, too.”
Lance listened again for a moment.
“No, Daddy can’t come to your school party. I know, baby. I know. Daddy’s so sorry he can’t make it...No, don’t be mad at Mommy, this isn’t her fault. She wants you to be happy, too.”
Nora covered her mouth with her hand to silence her tears. She saw Lance’s back heaving as he raised a hand to his face. She couldn’t stand seeing men cry—not unless it was in her dungeon. Her own father hadn’t give two shits about her. Oh, he’d put on a good act, an act she’d believe for sixteen years until he finally showed his true colors. But she knew in her heart he’d never cared enough about her to shed a single tear over her. He hadn’t even tried for joint custody when her parents divorced. That should have been her first sign that her dad hadn’t wanted her. If he’d once sat at a kitchen table on the phone in the dark weeping because he couldn’t see her, she would have forgiven him everything.
“I’ll send you a present,” Lance promised his daughter. “Anything you want. As long as it’s not a pony. Or a puppy.”
He laughed softly at whatever she answered.
“Okay, not a kitten, either,” he said. “Do you want anything that isn’t alive and walks around on four legs? Maybe I’ll just surprise you.”
Lance fell silent again as Lance’s daughter apparently took control of the conversation, likely listing everything she wanted for her birthday.
“Be a good girl for Daddy,” he whispered. “I’ll see you as soon as I can, I promise...I love you, too, my Maya.”
Lance ended the call and put the phone on the table in front of him. Nora took a deep breath, one deep enough he heard it and spun around.
“Get dressed,” Nora ordered. “We’re going to the city.”
“What are we doing?” he asked, standing up and coming to her.
“We’re doing what I’m always doing—breaking the rules.”
She was the Dominant in this relationship so she didn’t have to explain anything. She gave the orders. Lance followed them. Life was simpler in a D/s relationship.
Wait...Nora stopped in the middle of shoving her feet into shoes. Had she really just used the word “relationship”? Yes. Yes, she had. But only in her mind, she comforted herself. Didn’t count until she said it out loud. And a “relationship” wasn’t that scary, was it? She had a working relationship with her hair stylist. She had an adversarial relationship with her dentist. Relationship wasn’t a dirty word. Nothing to be afraid of. Not like it was monogamy.
Still, she kept her guard up as she and Lance drove into New York. She refused to tell him where they were going, knowing Lance would probably try to talk her out of it.
“Are you going to at least tell me what rule we’re breaking this evening?” Lance asked as they made their way through Manhattan traffic.
“Kingsley has a rule,” she said as she turned onto the street she’d been seeking. “More of a guideline. No...it’s definitely a rule. He runs the show, he’s the king. We, his lovely employees, are his ambassadors to his kingdom. And often we’re his bait. My clients are very wealthy, very powerful, very influential and important. Kingsley says that these people honor us with a sacred trust. We provide them a valuable service that the rest of the world doesn’t quite understand and in return they pay us exorbitant sums of money. And sometimes they pay us with more than money.”
“Like what?”
“Information, assistance...the usual. But Kingsley wants to handle that sort of stuff. We ambassadors just put on a good face for the empire. But I’m cutting Kingsley out. I need to ask a favor of a client.”
“Two questions—what client? And will you get in trouble for this?”
“Two answers—Judge Bollingen,” she said as they pulled into the side street near his house and parked. “And yes, big trouble.”
*
The Last Good Knight
Part V: The Last Good Night