The Saint(104)
“What is it, Nora? Tell me the truth.”
Nora looked away from Nico and into the fire.
“I wrote a fantasy novel once,” she said, watching the flames dance as they died. “Those were my favorite when I was a kid. Unicorns, magic, dragons. A few years ago I took a stab at writing one. I let Zach read it. He thinks it needs some work.”
“Not good?”
“He liked it. But, said Zach in his stuffy British editor voice, I broke the cardinal rule of writing fantasy. You see, if there’s magic in your world, every time the magician uses it, he must pay a price. I’ve never forgotten those words from Zach—magic isn’t free. I was drowning tonight in loneliness and grief and I thought I would go crazy out here. I wished for you and there you were, everything I needed. Like magic.”
“Why me?”
“Because the only man who you’ve ever considered your father just died. You’re on the same path I am, only a few feet ahead. If I follow you, maybe I won’t get lost. I’m so scared of getting lost.”
Nico touched her face. His fingers came away wet with tears. Nora had built her life around certain beliefs, certain truths, and now she found herself questioning everything.
“What was the price you paid to have me here?”
Nora swallowed the lump in her throat.
“I can’t go back,” she whispered.
“Back where?” Nico wrapped both hands around hers.
“Kingsley’s bed.”
Nora stared into Nico’s eyes. She wanted him to see the truth in her words.
“You should know that not only do Kingsley and I have history, we have recent history.”
“How recent?” Nico asked.
“The last time was the night before I flew to France to find you.”
If that hurt to hear, Nico’s eyes did not betray it. She must have known somehow that once she met Nico she could never be intimate with Kingsley again. They’d had one last dark and beautiful night together. And now … never again.
“And while Kingsley may not seem like a father to you—yet—in his eyes, and in his heart, you are his son. He’ll never touch me again.”
“Never touch you again? Because he’ll be angry?”
“No. Because he loves you.”
“Is this why you didn’t want to let me in?”
Nora looked back into the dying fire.
“Kingsley has secrets that he shares with very few people. You can count the number on one hand, and I was one of them. Not anymore.” She hadn’t merely been Kingsley’s lover, she’d been his domme as well those nights he’d needed pain. She’d also carried his child once, if only briefly—not that she could tell Nico. In time she would, but not yet.
“You paid a high price to let me in.”
“Very high. Kingsley and I have made a habit of hurting each other for twenty years the way only two people who are like family to each other can. But even if Kingsley would want me again, I couldn’t do that to you—be with you and then go back to him. This night means too much to me. You mean too much to me.”
Nico raised her hand and held it to his chest.
“You’re grieving,” Nico said. “So I won’t ask you to make any decisions. I will only say that if it were my decision, you would stay with me.”
“And what? Marry you? Have your babies? That’s not who I am. I’m selfish like that.”
Nico scoffed. “Selfish is the name the jealous give to the free. I’m free, too.”
“You are, aren’t you?”
“I am. And if I wanted marriage, children, why would I chase women with children my age? I have a little sister now. Why would I need any other heirs?”
Nora leaned forward and rested her head on the center of his chest. He kissed her hair.
“Don’t make any decisions yet,” Nico said, caressing her back. “But know this—you will always be welcome in my home and in my bed. And I won’t make you pay any price.”
Tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder and neck, she breathed his scent, quieted her heart.
“But you aren’t the one who sends the bills.”
Reluctantly Nora pulled away from Nico’s embrace. She’d rarely, if ever, felt this weak around a man. Grief had brought her to this point. She’d rarely known such deep sadness. Her loss had left her lost. Loss? Such a misnomer. Nothing was lost. Something was taken. She felt robbed, like someone had broken into her life and stolen her valuables. It wasn’t a loss. It was a theft. And she knew she would never get it back.
Nico crawled out of bed and walked to the fireplace. He threw a log onto the ebbing flames and stoked the fire back to life. He worked quickly and efficiently, wasting neither time nor effort. Since he was a child, he’d told her once, he’d worked in the vineyards. School all day. Work all evening. Sleep all night. The result of such a life—intelligence, strength and a clear conscience.