“‘He whom one waits is, because he is expected, already present, already master,’” Juliette said, quoting a famous line from Kingsley’s favorite novel, Histoire d’O.

“Fine. He can be the master. As long as he gets his ass home and fucks me. I haven’t gotten laid in a month. My pussy has cobwebs.”

Juliette started to laugh but then stopped and pulled a white lace handkerchief out of her blouse, pressing it over her mouth and nose.

“Paint fumes?” Nora asked. Juliette nodded behind her handkerchief. “Go outside and get some fresh air. I’ll figure out the paint.”

Juliette waved her hand dismissively. She hated being fussed over just because she was pregnant. Since Kingsley couldn’t stop fussing over her, he’d been banished from the house between the hours of ten a.m. and five p.m. Juliette said the banishment had saved both their minds and, quite possibly, his life.

“I’ll open a window.” Juliette walked to the large street-facing window in the nursery and parted the curtains. “Oh, bonjour, monsieur.”

“What is it?” Nora asked, walking over to her.

“We have company. Very handsome company.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. You’re so hopped on up hormones you flirted with the UPS driver yesterday. That’s my job.”

Nora peered out the window and saw a man on the sidewalk staring at his phone in the shade of a magnolia tree—a trim black man with a tight fade. He wore a tailored brown suit and aviator sunglasses. Nora put him at about thirty, thirty-five years old. He took off his sunglasses, and she had to admit he wasn’t bad at all. Tall but not too tall. Strong build like a former high school quarterback who’d stayed in fighting shape. Something about his strict posture, his confident bearing, put her in mind of the sort of man she’d had dealings with before.

“Handsome, yes. Bad news, definitely.”

Juliette looked at her from the side of her eyes.

“Police?” Juliette said under her breath so as not to scare Céleste. No woman lived with Kingsley Edge for ten years without learning how to pick out a plainclothes detective in a crowd.

“I definitely get that vibe from him,” Nora muttered in reply. “Don’t see a badge on him, though.” The man had put his hand in his pocket, which revealed nothing—no badge, no gun. “I better talk to him. He’s either here for King or he’s here for me.”

“Why would he be here for you?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Nora replied.

“Ah, true,” Juliette said, patting Nora on the back. “You’re so good to us, sometimes I forget how bad you are.”

Chapter Four

Cyrus tried to never go into a new situation blind, a habit that had saved his ass more than once. In the shade under the magnolia tree, he took a moment to search for this Nora Sutherlin. Supposedly she was a professional dominatrix, according to Katherine, but the only hits were for her dirty books.

He clicked on the one with the most reviews on Amazon. The Red: An Erotic Fantasy. There was a half-naked lady on the cover, which he did not object to in the least. He bought it with one click, smiling at the idea of it sharing space on his digital bookshelf with Carl Jung and Walter Mosley. He doubted either gentleman would mind.