dining room. A beautiful young woman in a forties-style skirt
and blouse stood next to his chair and waited.
He wrapped an arm around her hips and dragged her down
to his lap.
“You’re interrupting,” he said to her. “Can’t you see how
busy I am?”
“Oh, forgive me. I didn’t mean to interrupt your—” she
glanced down at the table and back into Kingsley’s eyes
“—card game?”
Kingsley pointed at S?ren.
“Blaise, I would like you to meet my oldest and dearest
friend…” He paused and looked at S?ren when he realized
he didn’t know if he was allowed to tell anyone S?ren’s name.
Out in the world S?ren had gone by the name his father had
given him—Marcus Stearns. Even now he was Father Marcus
Stearns, SJ, according to church records. S?ren was the name
his mother had given him, and few called him that. “Who the hell are you again?” Kingsley asked. S?ren stretched out his hand and took Blaise’s.
“S?ren. Kingsley and I went to school together.” “I’m Blaise,” she said, and gave S?ren her brightest smile
and the most unapologetic bedroom eyes Kingsley had ever
seen. So unfair. Why did S?ren always turn every head in
the room? Kingsley looked at S?ren who today wore normal clothes. Normal? Black slacks, a fitted black long-sleeve
T-shirt. They’d be normal clothes on anyone but S?ren. In
them, S?ren looked like something out of a fever dream. He
couldn’t blame Blaise for looking at S?ren the way she did. But he did wonder why S?ren looked at her the same way. “Blaise, might I inquire what you’re doing interrupting this
incredibly important card game of mine?”
“Against my better judgment, I answered the phone and
took a message for you. But don’t get any ideas that I’m your
new secretary, although you need to get a new secretary—” “I will, chouchou. I promise.”
“You said that last week.”
“I got a new secretary last week.”
“Where is she?”
“She quit.”
“Did you fuck her?”
“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”
Blaise turned her attention back to S?ren.
“Can you please tell your oldest and dearest friend to stop
seducing his secretaries so they’ll stop quitting on him when
they catch him fucking someone else?”
“Kingsley,” S?ren said, shuff ling the cards again. “Stop seducing your secretaries so they’ll stop quitting on you.” “Thank you.” Blaise gave S?ren a smile.
“My pleasure,” S?ren said. Kingsley mentally slapped them
both.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like playing secretary,” Kingsley said.
“That’s different.” Blaise shook her head. “If I’m pretending to be your secretary so you’ll fuck me on your desk—that’s
one thing. But I don’t actually want to be your secretary.” “Just give me the message,” Kingsley said, running his hand
up her thigh and caressing the bare skin above her f lesh-tone
stockings.
Blaise reached into her nearly translucent pale pink blouse
and produced a folded note from inside her lace-trimmed bra. Kingsley unfolded the note, still warm from her body, and
read.
Tonight at nine. —Phoebe
Kingsley tensed when he read the words and brief ly considered lying his way out of the situation. But no…Phoebe
was not the sort of woman one said no to.
“I have to go,” Kingsley said to Blaise and S?ren. “I won’t
be gone long—an hour or so. You’ll keep my guest company,
won’t you?” he asked Blaise.
“Happily.” Her thousand-watt smile brightened a few more
watts. With her on his lap, he could feel the heat emanating
from between her legs.
“Good. You two have so much in common, so much to
talk about. Blaise, tell S?ren what you do.”
“I run a nonprofit,” she said, leaning forward on the table
and resting her chin on her hand. The move allowed everyone in the room to get a much clearer view of her soft, ample
cleavage.
“A nonprofit?” S?ren continued shuff ling the cards while