The Mistress (12 page)

“I hope you find her someday, then. Or him.”

Nora turned to leave but a question from Griffin stopped her.

“Who is he?” Griffin asked.

Nora winced, not wanting to bring Wesley into this part of her world.

“No one you know.”

“You like him?”

Nora gave him her best apologetic shrug.

“Enough to give up sex with you for.”

Griffin laughed softly, laughed enough to tell her she was forgiven.

“Damn.”

Damn indeed.

* * *

“So you left this man Griffin for your Wesley? I’m not impressed,” Marie-Laure said, pulling Nora from her memory and out of her story.

“I’m not done yet,” Nora reminded her testily. She hated being interrupted when she was on a roll. “Story’s not over. Do you want to hear the ending or not?”

“I hope it’s a happy ending. You paint quite a picture. Your Griffin sounds lovely. Another younger man of yours?”

“Not that much younger. He’s twenty-nine.”

“A very good age.”

“It’s a very good age to be Griffin. He’s currently ass over ears in love with a teenage boy. I introduced them. One of my better matches.”

“A teenager? You have no morals, do you?”

“If he’s old enough to join the army, he’s old enough to get it from Griffin. And you married an eighteen-year-old, Captain Morality. Oh, and you killed someone.”

“I never said I had morals. I’m simply pleased to find that you don’t, either.”

“Let’s be best friends,” Nora said. “We can braid each other’s hair and murder runaways together.”

“Let’s. After your story,
s’il vous plaît
. It’s enjoyable but I still don’t understand why you love this Wesley boy of yours so much. I certainly wouldn’t have sacrificed a night with your friend Griffin for a night of editing a teenager’s term paper.”

“Some things are more important than sex. Wes...he was more important than sex.”

“An interesting statement from a woman who used to sell her body.”

“I never sold my body. I only sold my time and talents. And that’s something any working woman can say—secretary or Dominatrix or both. And there’s not a mother on the planet who hasn’t had to say no to fun in order to help her kid with his homework.”

“So that’s why you loved your Wesley? He was like your son?”

Nora exhaled heavily. No, Wesley wasn’t her son. He’d been her sun, but there was no explaining something like that to someone so deep in darkness.

“Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?”

“By all means, carry on.”

Nora left Griffin’s and drove into the fading sunlight of evening. All the way there she plotted playful revenge on Wesley. She was going to have to do something to punish him for taking her away from a night of food, sex, massages, kink, more sex and the eight most impressive inches of manhood in the East Village. She’d come up with something good. She always did. She could put tampons on the next grocery list. That might be too cruel. After all, she didn’t have periods anymore thanks to her IUD. Not that Wesley knew that. Tampons and yeast infection cream. That would do it. And condoms and lube, the flavored kind. That would stoke his virginal imagination, wouldn’t it? She briefly considered putting Hershey bars on the grocery list, too, but that would be a bit too cruel even for her. Wes might be a virgin by choice, but he never asked to be a type 1 diabetic.

But seriously, he deserved a little torture for dragging her all the way back to Westport from the city just to bring him his insulin pen and read his midterm paper. She caught herself smiling as she contemplated the various tortures. Goddammit, why did doing things for him make her so happy? She pulled onto their street and furrowed her brow. There, in her damn driveway, sat Wes’s yellow VW bug. What the hell? If he was home, why did he need her to get his pen for him? Did that little twerp actually make her abandon a night with Griffin for absolutely no reason whatsoever?

Ready for a fight, Nora stomped up to the front door, threw it open and was immediately besieged with confetti.

Confetti?

In the middle of the living room, hiding behind a bouquet of white roses, stood Wes, peeking at her over the top of the petals.

“Wesley...what the hell?”

“Happy birthday,” he said, grinning broadly over the flowers before hiding his face behind them again.

“What...you...” Nora grabbed the flowers from his hands and stared at him.

“Don’t look so surprised. I cleaned your office and found some insurance forms. I now know that you have low cholesterol and that your birthday is March 15 which happens to be—”

“Today, yes. Don’t remind me.”

“I’m reminding you. So are those.” He nodded at the flowers.

“You’re killing me, kid.”

“Don’t be depressed. You’re only thirty—”

She covered his mouth to prevent him from announcing her age.

“Good boy.” She removed her hand.

“Don’t freak out, Nora. You’ve got at least a couple good years left.”

Nora took the roses and smacked him on the ass with them.

“Ow. Those have thorns.”

“I know. That’s why I hit you with them.”

Wes grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her toward the kitchen.

“I have presents for you.”

“You shouldn’t have done all this,” Nora said. “I hate my birthday.”

“Tough. We’re celebrating whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t like it. Can I safe out?”

“Nope. Look.”

On the kitchen table, Wes had arrayed a birthday cake with her name on it plus two wrapped presents.

“You got me a cake? You can’t eat cake.”

“I can eat, like, a
bite
of cake. But you can have it all. You can’t open your presents until later, though. I’m taking you out to dinner first.”

“You’re trying to get me fat, aren’t you?”

“I’m trying to get you not emaciated.”

“It’s working.” She reached out and grabbed a corner of the cake with her bare hand and shoved it in her mouth. She had a little too much fun licking the icing off her fingers while Wes watched. “It’s definitely working.”

“Speaking of working...” Wes grazed her from head to boots and raised his eyebrow. “You said you were home.”

“I lied.”

“I know. I was here when I called. You were on a job, weren’t you?”

“Something like that. A girl’s gotta get paid.” And laid.

“I didn’t mean to trick you. I wanted to get you home in time so we could party.”

“We’re going to party?” Nora knew how to party. She could party with the best of them. Kingsley, his crew, a shit ton of money, too much alcohol, a dash of an illegal substance or two and waking up on top of Griffin or Kingsley or...

“Yes, party. We’ll go to dinner and rent some movies.”

“Are we doing another installment of ‘Catch Nora Up on the Past Fifteen Years of the Vanilla World Theater’?”

“Yes, I got
The Matrix
.”

“Never seen it.”

“You’ll love it.
Alice in Wonderland
references, secret societies, theology, people in leather and vinyl outfits...”

“Ninjas?”

“Sort of.”

“I’m in. So presents? Yes? I see them. I’m opening them.”

“No opening presents. Not yet.”

“Wrong answer,” Nora said, reaching for the first box.

“Those aren’t your presents.”

“They aren’t? Then why are they on my table? If it’s on my table, it’s mine. So, you know, hop up.”

She expected Wes to blush like he always did when she hit on him, but he didn’t. Not this time. Instead, he did as she asked and sat on the edge of the table. She stood in front of him with her hands on his knees. Goddamn, this kid would be the death of her. That shaggy blond hair, that sweet face, those big brown eyes... Looking at that smile of his was like staring into the sun. She’d even started getting up earlier every day on the off chance she’d catch him walking out of the bathroom, towel around his waist, water dripping down his young, muscular back. If he only knew some of the fantasies she’d entertained about him...

Look but don’t touch,
she reminded herself.

“In honor of
The Matrix
...” he began, putting his hands over hers.

“Which I haven’t even seen yet.”

“I’m giving you a choice. This will make more sense after you see the movie.”

“A choice of what?”

“You can have the presents in the boxes or...anything else you want. You can have the stuff on the table or what’s down the rabbit hole.”

Nora raised her eyebrow at him.

“I can have anything?”

“Anything,” he said. “But only if you decide to go down the rabbit hole.”

“Like a castle or a trip to Jamaica or a ten-carat emerald ring anything?”

“Any. Thing. Name it. Anything.”

“Wes, darling, you’re adorable. But you are a freshman in college. From Kentucky. You moved in with me—”

Wes raised his hand and covered her lips with one finger.

“If I told you that I could give you anything you wanted, would you believe me?”

Nora stared into his eyes and saw nothing but the truth in them. It was a beautiful truth, one she wanted to be a part of. Anything she wanted...from her Wesley...and she knew what her answer was. She wanted to take him into her bed tonight and make love to him. She wanted to teach him everything she knew about sex and how good it felt and how right it could be to join your body with someone else’s and let the entire world fall away from you until there was nothing left but you and him and the new being the two created together. She wanted his virginity for her birthday and his heart and body every day after that. And she wanted that because she loved him and treasured him and didn’t want anyone ever hurting him as he never wanted anyone hurting her, even though she loved that sort of thing, not that he would ever understand that. And she didn’t care that he didn’t understand. She cared that he loved her. Oh, yes, Nora knew exactly what she wanted from Wesley for her birthday. She wanted to look into his eyes the moment he entered her the first time, wanted to hear his breathing change with the first thrust, wanted to hold him before, during and after and let him tell her everything he felt and everything he wanted.

But she couldn’t ask for that, could she? Wesley deserved a little bit better for his first time than a woman who was still wet from the last guy she’d fucked an hour ago. She still could feel Griffin’s warm skin against her breasts, could still remember the press of him inside her. As cute as he was to offer, she knew Wes couldn’t buy her emeralds and castles. Maybe he wanted to see if she’d believe him. Maybe he wanted to know what she’d wish for if she could have anything on earth.

“Anything, Nora,” Wes whispered, and took both her hands in his. Nora smiled.

“I’ll take the presents on the table, the dinner with you and the movie. And that’s all I want,” she said, reaching out to cup his face. She kissed him on the cheek and he gave her a smile. In his eyes she saw a flash of disappointment quickly hidden.

“Okay, but dinner first.”

“We’re getting Indian, right?” she asked. “The correct answer is yes.”

“Yes.”

“You must have read my mind. I’ll go change out of the fetish-wear first.”

“Thank you. And I’ll change into mine.”

“The assless chaps, please. It is my birthday, after all.”

“Anything for you.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Nora turned around and found Wes still looking at her and on his face she saw no subterfuge, no lies, no jokes, no tricks. When he said, “Anything for you,” he meant it.

* * *

“Do you regret picking the birthday presents on the table?” Marie-Laure asked, dragging Nora out of the past again. It hurt leaving that memory of Wes, especially since returning to the present meant remembering she sat cuffed to the bed of a psychopath. While she dredged up her past, Marie-Laure sat on the bed four feet away, fluffing her goddamn pillows.

“No. Yes. Maybe.” Nora exhaled heavily. “The only thing I wanted was him. And that I didn’t feel right asking for. Castles are too much upkeep. Emeralds I could buy for myself. But I couldn’t buy him. That kid tricked me into coming back home just so he could wish me happy birthday and take me to dinner. And he didn’t even want to fuck me. And even if he did want to fuck me he didn’t try. He didn’t do anything that night but put his arm around me on the sofa and let me lean against him while we watched movies.”

Nora remembered the peace she felt that night curled up with Wesley, eating cake, talking, being vanilla and boring and happy. She forgot all about sex with Griffin, the Gansevoort, even forgot about her birthday. She didn’t even remember it again until she’d gone to bed that night and found a box from Søren on her bed. Kingsley had a key to her house. He must have had one of his underlings sneak it in while she and Wesley were gone. It took her a week to work up the courage to open the box and a week to recover from the gift inside—a handblown glass hart, tiny and exquisite, its antlered head held high proudly. When she was fifteen, she’d dug through boxes of her old toys until she’d found a little plastic hart that had been part of a set of toy animals her grandmother had given her. She’d given it to Søren after midnight mass on Christmas Eve.
A visual pun,
she’d explained to him.
My hart...my heart.
What the gift of the glass hart meant she didn’t want to think about. Was Søren reminding her he still had her heart? Or confessing she still had his? Both, most likely, because she knew both were true.

“You know your Wesley’s truth now—his family, his fortune. Do you wish you’d chosen the rabbit hole?”

As much as Nora hated to admit it, Marie-Laure asked a good question.

“I faced that same choice with Søren once,” Nora said, blinking back tears. “I could learn the truth about him and be changed forever. Or walk away from him, from the truth, and stay blissfully ignorant.”

“You made a different choice with my husband.”

“I did. I was seventeen years old and it was here in this house. His father had died and he finally felt safe enough to tell me what he was, what we could be. He warned me it would change everything and that once learned it couldn’t be unlearned.”