The Priest (The Original Sinners #9) - Tiffany Reisz Page 0,30

floors. Stainless steel appliances.

“Not bad,” Nora said. “Still doesn’t make me want to learn how to cook though. What’s the backyard like?”

She pointed at the French doors leading out of the kitchen to the backyard.

“Enclosed courtyard,” he said and took her to the door. He hit a lightswitch, and Nora saw a small in-ground swimming pool appear in the dark before S?ren flipped the light off again.

“Damn. I’m kind of afraid to ask about the bathroom. I assume there’s an enormous claw-foot bathtub in there, gilt mirrors, and a year’s supply of lube?”

“Not in the hall bathroom, but in the master bath, yes. Let me show you the master bedroom. It’s ludicrous.”

“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.

S?ren 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.”

S?ren 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 S?ren’s.

“You approve?” S?ren 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 S?ren 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.”

S?ren 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,” S?ren 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?”

These were important questions, and she’d much rather be having sex with him than asking them.

“I can get a job. I can teach piano lessons. I can work as a translator. Hospitals are desperate for trained translators. I can—”

“You can take the gift Kingsley is giving you and actually enjoy a year off? Spend time with me, him, Juliette and Céleste, and the new baby. Catch up on your sleeping, your reading. Take a Pilates class.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Okay, skip Pilates,” she said. “I do. You know, I think you’re forgetting something very important here.”

“Do tell,” he said.

“You inherited a massive trust fund when you were eighteen and you gave every cent of it to Kingsley. You can’t let him do one nice extravagant thing for you in return?”

“He set up a trust fund for Fionn. That’s more than enough.”

“God, you’re stubborn,” she said.

He glanced away again and Nora saw a flash of something in his