“Kingsley put the ‘master’ in master bedroom?”

“I have no idea where you buy St. Andrew’s Crosses in New Orleans but he must have found a supplier. Oh, and the handcuffs are engraved.”

“With what?”

“The phrase ‘la douleur exquise.’”

La douleur exquise meant literally “the exquisite pain,” a French phrase with a rather nebulous meaning. Kingsley had told her it could mean the pain of loving someone you can never truly have or the pain of being hurt by the one you love. A good motto for anyone in love with a Catholic priest who also happened to be a sadist.

Søren started to open the door opposite the dining room, and Nora stopped him with a hand over his.

“You don’t want to see it?” he asked. “It’s a sight to behold.”

“I’m sure it is,” she said. “But that’s your room with King. He’d probably prefer I stay out of it.”

Søren took his hand off the doorknob. He leaned back against the closed door and Nora leaned back against the opposite wall. The house was old and the hallway narrow. Her toes touched Søren’s.

“You approve?” Søren asked.

How could she not? Pale blue walls with white trim, snowy landscapes, crystal chandeliers… In this sultry southern city where it was never not summer, Kingsley had created for Søren an oasis of winter.

“It’s perfect,” Nora said. “King can remodel my house next. He obviously loves you a lot more than I do.”

Søren laughed ruefully, looking up at the ceiling, eyes on a brass lantern light fixture probably original to the house.

“You’re not going to tell him ‘no,’ are you?” Nora asked, more than slightly horrified. “He’ll be devastated if you don’t take the house. And it’s not that big of a house. Probably cost under a million.”

“Under a million.” His tone was dry as fine-grit sandpaper.

“Is that the problem? Too extravagant?”

He didn’t answer at first. Nora searched his face for any hint of what he was thinking, feeling, but his eyes were stormy gray, and the clouds were hiding his thoughts from her.

“I have two Ph.Ds. I speak seventeen languages. I have over thirty years of work experience—teaching, pastoring, and leading a church congregation,” Søren said. “I don’t need taken care of. Just because I’m on a forced leave of absence for a year doesn’t mean I need Kingsley to support me emotionally, spiritually, or financially.”

“Ah,” Nora said. “So this is your male pride talking. You don’t want Kingsley playing Sugar Daddy while you’re out of a job.”

“I’m suspended. One year only. I can go back in ten months and two weeks.”

“And what are you going to do for the next ten months and two weeks? Live with me? We tried that, remember? You moved out of the Jesuit house and in with me, and it was one week before you disappeared. Do I snore? Is that it?”

“Eleanor.”

“What are you going to do? Seriously? Have you thought about it?”