“I could use a drink.”

“We’ll take him home,” Kingsley said. “We’re leaving anyway. Thank you for an...evening.”

The lack of an adjective was evidently noted.

“You didn’t enjoy the show?” Milady asked, wearing a faux pout.

“I thought the finale was dazzling,” Kingsley said, looking at Nora. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. Søren had taught her how to catch a whip on her arm and around her waist. He’d sometimes wrap her with a whip and reel her in when he was in a playful mood. Catching the whip had stung and she could have been hurt badly, but she’d acted on pure instinct.

“Of course she’s not hurt,” Milady said, raising her voice so the entire room heard her. “She’s the property of the priest. She can take a whipping with the best of them. Can’t she?”

Kingsley’s eyebrow lifted a discernible millimeter.

“Oh, Kingsley,” Milady said, lowering her voice. “You thought I didn’t know who she was? I know everything. I know she’s training to be a dominatrix, which is hilarious. The priest’s little girl? The girl he used to drag through your club by her hair and publicly beat?”

Nora rolled her eyes. Søren had never dragged her by her hair through The 8th Circle. He’d dragged her by her collar, yes, but not her hair.

“You ignored a submissive’s safe word,” Kingsley said. “While she put herself between him and a whip. She’s already a better dominatrix than you are.”

“My clients would say otherwise.”

“Because your clients haven’t been with her yet.” Kingsley held out his arm and Nora took it. “We’ll be going. Shall we?” he said to Thorny.

“It’s okay,” he said looking up at Kingsley. “Thank you. I’ve got a ride.”

“Of course.” Kingsley reached into his breast pocket and produced his business card. He passed it to Thorny. “If you’re looking for a new domme, call me.”

“No offense,” Thorny said. “I’d rather call her.” He pointed at Nora.

“None taken,” Kingsley said. “So would I.”

“I’ll have my whip back, please.” Milady said please to Nora but there was no graciousness in her tone. It wasn’t a request.

Nora looped it neatly in her hands but before she handed it back, she ripped off the long white cracker at the end, a four-inch nylon string. With a twist and a knot, Nora tied the nylon cord around Thorny’s index finger, a reminder.

Thorny looked up at her and grinned. “Don’t worry. I won’t forget you. I owe you.”

“I think we can dispense with the pretense that you’re his silent submissive,” Milady said to Nora. “After all...we all know who she is, don’t we?” Milady addressed the crowd again. Before Milady could do it, Nora pulled off her mask and the wig and ran her hands through her real hair, releasing the waves.

“She speaks when she has something to say,” Kingsley said.

“I’m sure she has something to say to me, doesn’t she?” Milady asked.

“I do,” Nora said.

“Yes?” Milady batted her eyelashes. “I’m all ears.”

“If you hurt my priest, I’ll drag you by your hair through the club and publicly beat you. This is between us, you, me and Kingsley. He’s not a part of this.”

“I heard you left him,” Milady said. “That makes him fair game.”

“He’s not a game.”

“So possessive? Really? How...illuminating. If you’re threatening me over him you must think there is some sort of chance I could get him up on my cross.”

“He would die before he submitted to you,” Nora said. “Or me. Or anyone but God.”

“I just want to hurt him a little tiny bit.” Milady wrinkled her nose and smiled an elfin smile. “That arrogant blond Apollo. What a prize that would be. I’d wear a lock of his blond hair around my neck in a locket.”

“You don’t get to touch a hair on his head,” Nora said, raising one finger and pointing it at Milady’s face. “You don’t get to hurt him.”

“And why not?” Milady asked, putting on her best and sweetest pout.

Nora raised her chin and stared Milady down.

“That’s my job.”

12

The Whip Master

“I’LL KILL HER,” Nora said.

“You can’t kill her.” Kingsley leaned back in his desk chair and threw his booted feet up on his desk. “You can maim her, I suppose. I wouldn’t stop you from maiming her.”

“You know you want to maim her, too. Don’t you?” Ever since that farce of a party last night, that was all Nora had been able to think about—maiming Milady. She’d string her up by her own whips and walk around Manhattan wearing Milady’s hair in a locket around her own neck. She’d need a big damn locket because she planned on scalping the woman.

“Don’t encourage him, Nora, s’il vous plaît.” Those words came from Juliette, who was poring diligently over Kingsley’s files. He’d given his beautiful Haitian submissive her own small secretary’s desk for his private office. Juliette looked up from her work and shook her head. “He’s not allowed to kill or maim anyone unless it’s unavoidable.”

“The lady has spoken,” Kingsley said to Nora. He put the tips of two fingers to his lips, kissed them and blew the kiss at Juliette, who casually caught it in midair and patted her neck with it. Juliette liked neck kisses, too. Nora appreciated this fact about her.

“She threatened Søren,” Nora said.

“She didn’t threaten him. She threatened you.” Kingsley looked at her expectantly. Expecting her to deny it?

“Søren would never submit to that woman. Or any woman. Or any man.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Kingsley said. “Which is why it amuses me so much that you are taking her boasts so seriously.”

“What I want to know is how she knew,” Nora said, leaning forward in the chair. “How did she know Nora Sutherlin was Eleanor Schreiber?”

“Calliope,” Kingsley said.

“No way. Not her. She loves you. She wouldn’t rat us out for all the money in the world,” Nora said.

“She didn’t. I told her to leak the information.”

“You what?”

Kingsley laughed. “I told her to spread a little gossip for me. She told two ‘friends’ of hers who can’t keep their mouths shut and the news spread like wildfire.”

“You dragged me to that party knowing she would fuck with me?”

“I knew you’d fuck back,” he said. “As always, I am in control of the flow of information in and out of this house. If a secret gets out, it’s because I want it out. Now that you’ve had your little showdown with Milady, all the Underground will know that you, the former Eleanor Schreiber, are now Mistress Nora Sutherlin. The Midsummer Night’s Fling will be packed. Standing room only. Everyone in the state will be there to see you two face off again.” He swept his hand at the windows behind him to indicate the city at large, before interlacing his fingers behind his head and smiling his arrogant smile.

“Oh, God, the whole fucking kink world will be there.” Nora collapsed back in the chair, her hands to her forehead. She felt a sudden blinding, stabbing pain behind her eyes. “And it’s your fault.”

“It’s your fault,” Kingsley said. “You’re the one who made a scene at the party last night.”

“She was beating Thorny bloody. He safed out. He wanted her to stop. She ignored him on purpose.”

“Of course she did. She wanted to publicly humiliate you for letting your charge get harmed. Well, you found an unusual solution, didn’t you?”

“What happened?” Juliette asked.

“La Maîtresse over here,” Kingsley said, pointing at Nora, “stepped in front of a man being whipped with not one but two stock whips. She caught the whip on her arm like a fucking rodeo clown, and she’s very lucky she didn’t lose an eye.”

“That’s very dangerous,” Juliette said. “I wish I could have been there to see it.”

Nora looked at Kingsley and pointed at Juliette. “I love this woman.”

“So do I,” Kingsley said. “But she’s going to get another beating if she doesn’t stop encouraging you.”