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If that was all a priest—a priest who could rattle off entire books of the Bible from memory—if that was all he could find to say, then it was all there was to say.
Daniel had laughed and then he’d cried. He knew he’d called the right man.
When Daniel finally answered Søren, he spoke with complete sincerity.
“Yes, I trust you.”
“Then go home,” he said. “Bury yourself in your hole in the ground if you need to. If you can’t find your way out again, we’ll send someone to dig you out.”
And for three years he hadn’t been able to dig his way out of the hole of grief he’d fallen into. For three years, he didn’t set one foot off their Big House property. But Søren had kept his promise. He sent his own property to him, his own Eleanor, his own heart.
But that was the past.
Now in the present, he watched Eleanor in the drawing room. She held a chess piece in her hand. Søren pointed to a square on the board, but she shook her head. Knowing him, he was attempting to teach her the finer points of some obscure strategy. Knowing her, she was playing by suicide rules, trying to lose on purpose to end the game quicker. Again Søren snapped his fingers in her face. Again she shook her head. Daniel heard him release an exasperated sigh. He reached for the chess piece but she popped it into her mouth.
“Merde…not again…” Kingsley sighed.
Daniel only watched as Søren reached out and pinched her nose closed. The battle of wills began. With her mouth closed and her nose pinched, Eleanor had no hope of winning this fight. The need to breathe would eventually overcome her willful refusal to play the game by His rules.
A minute passed. Eleanor clenched her eyes shut. Søren held out his hand, tapped under her chin, and she gave in and spit the piece into his palm.
“Merci mon Dieu,” Kingsley breathed.
“What?”
Kingsley looked at Daniel. “Last time she swallowed it.”
“By accident?” Daniel winced. That couldn’t have been pleasant—going down or coming out.
“On purpose.”
Daniel raised his hand and covered his mouth to stifle his laugh.
In the drawing room, Eleanor turned her face toward the shadows on the landing. Daniel took a step back deeper in the darkness.
Kingsley beckoned him back upstairs and Daniel wrenched his eyes from Eleanor. If she saw him…if Søren saw him, it wouldn’t be good. Maybe, eventually, he could see Eleanor without wanting to drag her to him and beat and fuck the memory of any other man out of her head. Maybe someday…but not today.
At the top of the stairs, Daniel turned his back to Kingsley just long enough to catch his breath.
“Can I get you anything?” Kingsley prompted. “Perhaps a member of my Imperial Collection could take your mind off her?”
Daniel turned, grabbed Kingsley by the throat and shoved him hard and fast into the wall.
“I’m not in a great mood right now so you’ll just have to forgive me,” Daniel nearly growled the words. “One of these days you’re actually going to care about a woman instead of collecting them like stamps in your passport. If Anya ends up getting hurt because of this stupid fucking sex auction of yours, I’ll show you and the priest downstairs what real sadism looks like.Tu comprend?”
Kingsley stared him down. Daniel knew that for all his devil-may-care airs, Kingsley might easily qualify as one of the more dangerous men in the city, if not the country. But when Daniel looked into his eyes, he saw the tiniest shred of fear. Daniel grinned.
“Je comprends,” Kingsley said.
“Good.”
Daniel relinquished his hold on Kingsley’s neck and stepped back.
Once more Kingsley had cause to straighten his crumpled collar.
“Now I’m leaving,” Daniel said and headed toward the front stairs. “I’m going to go have dinner. I’m going to go to my apartment. And I’m not going to think about you or Eleanor or him or this world you’ve sucked me back into.”
Kingsley raised his eyebrow at him. “If I recall, it is you who knocked on my door, Daniel.”
