“I can try.”

“Stop being so damn Catholic. That’s Søren’s job.”

She walked back over to him, dug her fingers into his hair, and gave it a gentle tug the way Kingsley liked.

“Where’s Juliette?”

“Safe,” he said and that was all he said. Kingsley protected Juliette, his private secretary, as if her life meant more to him than his own. Probably because it did.

“Do you need me tonight?” Although alone in the office, she whispered the words. No one but Nora, Juliette and Søren knew about Kingsley’s secret submissive and masochistic side. She’d given a lot of herself to Lance tonight and part of her wanted to race back to the club and see if he’d stayed there. She wanted more time with Lance, but if Kingsley needed her attentions, she would give him whatever she had left and not charge him a cent for it. They fought like brother and sister most of the time, but when he needed her, she was his without question and without mercy.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, closing his eyes.

“I have to,” she whispered, her fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. “It’s my job.”

He raised his lips to hers for a kiss. She kissed him longer and deeper than she’d intended to, but such things happened around Kingsley. He pulled back from the kiss and gave her a tired smile.

“Go home and sleep, Maîtresse. I’ll call as soon as I hear anything.”

“Oui, Monsieur.” She dropped another kiss on his cheek and whispered a quick and true “Je t’adore, mon roi” in his ear. Kingsley had money, power and respect, but with all that came enormous responsibility. He ran a dangerous business and had the safety of all his staff weighing on his heart. Some days it was good to be the king. Days like this it sucked ass, and not in the fun way.

Nora caught a cab back to the club and tried to find Lance. Max, the bartender, said she saw him leave not long after Nora had skipped out with Søren and Simone. Goddammit. She wondered if she’d ever see him again, or if this craziness had scared him off for good. She hadn’t gotten his last name, his phone number...nothing. He’d given her one of the best evenings of her life since leaving Søren, and now he was gone. Fuck. She could ask Kingsley for his information, but she’d feel a little pathetic and desperate trying hunt the man down. If he wanted to see her again, he knew where to find her.

C’est la guerre, as Kingsley would say. It was for the best, anyway. She liked him and she didn’t like that she liked him. Like led to love and love led to nasty complications. Although with Lance at least there were no foreseeable nasty complications that involved the Vatican. One more check in the plus column for that guy.

Exhausted by a night of great kink and terrible news, Nora drove home to her house in Connecticut. She stripped naked and crawled into her big, empty bed. She put her private and work cell phones on her pillow in the event Kingsley or Søren called with any updates on Natasha.