“KINGSLEY, ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?” “What is it you do for a living again?” he asked, glancing
around his still-empty strip club. Was there any place in the
world more desolate or depressing than an empty strip club? Maggie glared at him from across the table.
“I’m a lawyer. Specifically, your lawyer.”
“Then, no, I’m not listening to you.”
Maggie sighed and ran her hands through her hair. She
was one of the highest paid and most respected attorneys in
all of Manhattan. But right now she looked like a beautiful if
exasperated ex-lover in a dark red suit. Which she also was. “You remember you’re paying me seven-hundred dollars
an hour for this conversation?” she asked him, the toe of her
red stiletto clicking on the f loor in irritation.
“Now I’m listening. What’s happening to my club?” Maggie capped her pen and tapped her legal pad with the
end.
“Nothing,” she said. “Unfortunately. There is no organization in the city that works slower than the health department.
And that’s on a good day.”
“And this is not a good day?”
“No, it’s not a good day,” Maggie said, ripping off a sheet of paper and tossing it in the air. He did always adore her dramatics. “All the paperwork is ‘in process,’ which is their fancy way of saying ‘we are doing nothing with this case, so sit there
and shut up.’ You must have seriously pissed someone off.” Kingsley stretched out his legs, threw his feet on to the seat
of the chair next to Maggie, and crossed his boots at the ankle. “It’s possible.”
“Oh, I know it’s possible. I used to sleep with you, remember? You’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever met and, considering the only people I know are other lawyers, and I’m
using the term people loosely, that’s saying something.” Kingsley narrowed his eyes at her. He’d met Maggie years
ago when he’d been sent on a long undercover assignment in
Manhattan. Older, rich, well-respected and powerful, Maggie was also a sexual submissive who loved nothing so much
as spending all night on her hands and knees for a man. He’d
taken great pleasure in giving her knees rug burn for two
months straight.
“You miss me, don’t you?” he asked her.
“No.”
“Do you think if I hadn’t gone back to France, we still
would be together?” he asked.
“Kingsley?” Maggie reached across the table and snapped
her fingers in his face. “Pay attention. Your club has been
closed for a month. Can we talk about how much money
you’re losing and why?”
“I have plenty of money.”
“Do you not care about the people who work for you who
lost their jobs?”
“I’m still paying them.”
“When did you become so altruistic?”
“I’m a very giving person. Orgasms, beatings, rug burn,”
he reminded her.
“I’m leaving. When you’re ready to discuss your legal situation, call my office.” She gathered her things and stood up. Kingsley took her by the wrist and pulled her back down to
her chair. As he expected, she didn’t put up a fight. “I’m sorry,” he said, moving his chair directly in front of
hers. “I am. This is my own fault, which is why I don’t want
to talk about it. But I need to. I need you.”
Maggie exhaled heavily. She took Kingsley’s hands in hers.
On her left hand she now sported a wedding band. His beautiful, servile, submissive Maggie, who had once spent twentyfour hours straight chained to his bed…was now married. And
to a librarian of all things.
“Tell me what’s going on. The truth,” she said. “I can’t help
you if you won’t tell me what’s happening.”
“I fell in love,” he said.
She smiled at him sympathetically. “The root of all evil.
Who is she? Or he?”
“She’s a hotel called The Renaissance.”
“Your strip club is closed. You’re being investigated for tax
code violations. And your friend Irina’s being deported. And
this is all about real estate?”
Kingsley nodded.