“I put something in the mail for you today,” Stefan said. Opera came through the phone as I turned the key in my front door.

“Should I be excited?” I swung the door open.

“You’re a third of the way to membership in the Cellar.”

“Thank you! One down. Two to go.” I flicked the lamps on, bathing the loft in warm light. “I spoke to Serena this morning. I don’t think I convinced her of much.”

“She saw me today. We spoke. That was all I wanted. Thank you.”

We hung up without me telling him Adam might have been the reason Serena saw him. There was already too much personal information flowing between the four of us.

As I circumnavigated the loft, I got back to the front door and made sure it was locked.

Two white envelopes had been slipped under the door and pushed forward when it swung open. I opened the one with the McNeill-Barnes logo. Just like Dad said, it was a Withdrawal of Claim and Order blah blah for an address in Brooklyn pursuant to etc etc yada yada.

The other envelope was the size of an invitation. I ripped it open.

The note was in a deeply masculine handwriting, so neat it was nearly generic. The words were underlined in the same felt top pen. I flipped the card, looking for more. Nothing. I put the note on the dining room table and stripped down. Everything came off. Even the pearl choker. I didn’t realize I’d been smiling through the whole process until I was putting my underwear in the hamper and caught sight of myself in the mirror.

I would have looked longer, but the lock on the front door clicked. I ran through the big, open space on the balls of my feet and crouched in the threshold between the loft space and the bedrooms, out of the way of the open door.

With my face to the floor and my arms stretched in front of me, I couldn’t see. I coud only hear his footsteps, the closing door, the lock, his voice.

“I see you were thinking of me.”

I didn’t want to talk to the floor and I didn’t want to move, so I gave him a thumbs-up. He laughed with a tolerance for bad humor I’d never tire of.

The warmth of his hand spread across the middle of my back. “Stand up. I want to look at you.”

I stood, keeping my eyes on the floor. He wore his black shoes. The tops were spotted with rain. He picked up my chin and looked at me while he stroked my lower lip with his thumb.

“Did you ever imagine this scene right here?” he asked. “You naked and kneeling when I came in the door?”

“No. Not while we were living together. But since Montauk, it’s all I can think about.”

He drew the backs of his fingers across my cheek and down my neck. “You took the pearls off.”

“Naked is as naked does.”

He smiled, brushing his hands across my breasts, tightening the nipples. “Where’s the box?”

“In my bag.”

He took his hand away and undid his tie. “Do you want to open it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not ready.” He slid the tie from his collar and came behind me. “Keep carrying it around until I tell you to stop.”

He put the tie over my eyes and knotted the back. The world went dark, and I went liquid. Was he going to do the thing I’d seen on the screen? Lead me by his touch?

He put his hands on the sides of my face. I felt his breath and tasted his tongue as he kissed me. Maybe he thought he didn’t love me, but his body told me he did. Or maybe together we’d redefined love. Maybe we’d evolved from desire to love to need, because our kiss was nothing if not needy.

He slid his thumb between our lips and put it in my mouth, breaking the lock of the kiss. I sucked his thumb, and he pulled it away. I kept it in my mouth, following into the loft. One step, two, letting him lead me around blindfolded. I trusted him to keep me safe in sightlessness.

The momentum forward stopped and became a right turn, a spin, a disorienting five steps in a direction I couldn’t be sure of. Then forward a step. One turn. Two. I was lost, naked, and blind with nothing but his thumb in my mouth to guide me.

I yanked away. “Sorry. Before I forget…”

“Yes?”

“Some legal documents came to the office today. Dad opened them. He was totally snooping.”

“Where?”

“Foyer table.”

“Don’t move.”

I didn’t. His feet stayed where they were while his hand stroked every inch of my body. I thought he’d forgotten the envelope, but when he’d activated every cell of my skin, making me hot and tingly, he went to the foyer. His heels clicked on the hardwood. Four times. My nervous system sent signals outward, toward his heat as papers crackled, folded, and fell onto the dining room table.

“Lean forward. Hands down. Fingers spread.”

Wait. Was I grabbing my ankles? Was I near the windowsills?

As if seeing my hesitation, Adam spoke. “Trust me.”

Okay. I was going to trust him. I put my arms out, spread out my fingers, and leaned forward. My hands hit the coffee table, and I laughed to myself. “I thought I was across the room.”

He pressed my lower back down, making me raise my ass for the hundredth time. “We’re going to really work on your posture. The purpose is to keep you mindful of your body, so… lower back down. Ass up. Legs”—he kicked my feet apart—“at shoulder width. Look straight ahead. It elongates your neck and lets me see your tits.”

He pushed me this way and that to get me just right. Every touch was gentle and firm, and when I was perfectly how he wanted me, he cupped my ass and kissed my lower back.

“How is this?” he asked.

“Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“Uncomfortable. But if it’s what you want, I can remember it.”

“You’re getting—”

He stopped himself. The table was covered with magazines and mail. I heard a slight ruffle in the space below my chin. I couldn’t feel him. He’d made sure at least one part of his body was on mine the whole time, except when he looked at the papers, and without his touch, I felt disoriented and isolated.

“Adam?”

He took the tie off my eyes and held the note in front of them.

Take your clothes off and think of me.

“What?” I said. “Was I supposed to do something with it?”

“What is it?” he said as if he were holding all his control behind his teeth.

“A note? Is there another definition?”

“Who wrote it?”

I stood up. Sexy time was done. “You didn’t? It was under the door when I came in.”

I took it and looked closely, suddenly recognizing the weight and lines of the writing. It was written in very fine felt tip pen, scored with a straight edge. I’d thought it was Adam. Assumed it was, but wishful thinking had shaded my perception. It wasn’t my husband’s writing at all. I covered my mouth.

Adam thrummed his fingers on the tabletop. I’d done nothing wrong. I didn’t owe him an explanation, but he was going to get one.

“Okay. Just stop looking so mad, okay? I thought you left it. That’s the first thing. Stop. Stop looking mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You look mad.”

“This is not my mad face. This is my ‘what the fuck?’ face.”

“This is my ‘calm down’ face.” I tossed the card on the table and went into the kitchen, where I snapped Insolent’s card off the fridge. I put it on the bar that separated the kitchen from the open area.

Adam crossed the room and took it. “Who gave you this?”

“Charlie. Don’t be mad. Look! There’s the mad face again.”

“Is this the guy you were waiting for at the Greens?”

“Yes. I left him a note saying I couldn’t go through with it. I presumed he got it.”

Adam plucked my phone from the table and dropped it in front of me. “We have a deal. You and I. No one else.”

“I’m keeping that deal and you know it.”

“Text him and tell him that.”

I unlocked my phone, leaning a hip on the counter. “For a guy who doesn’t love me, you sure act like you do.”

“I can’t believe you told him where you lived,” Adam said as I hit Send.

“He must have gotten it from the driver when I took the car home.”

Adam snapped the phone away from me. Looked at my text. “You’re too fucking polite.”

He tapped the glass. When I realized what he was doing, I came around the counter and reached for the device. He held it away. It dinged with an incoming, and when he looked, I wedged myself in front of him so I could see.

The new text from Insolent jarred me.

“Charlie sent you this asshole?”

I didn’t want him to be angry with Charlie, but it was too late. His own phone was out and he was dialing.

Adam, phone tucked between his shoulder and ear, put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me into him. I let my naked skin feel the safety of his suit and the firm caress of his hand.

“Charles,” Adam said, “who did you send my wife to?”

I couldn’t make head or tail of what Charlie was saying.

“You bet it was going to bite you in the ass,” Adam said. “Do you know this guy? Is he another war criminal?... Because she told him no thank you and he’s leaving notes at the house. Under the door. He knows where she lives, and I don’t like his tone.”

Adam listened for a long time. I tried to get away so I could put some clothes on, but he wouldn’t let me go.

“Yeah,” Adam finally said. “Dominic is fine if we can get him.”

He said his good-byes and hung up, looking at me with a tenderness I hadn’t seen since the day before I left him. It might have been an opening. Was it too small for me to get through? Only one way to find out.

“Why not just tell him it’s going to work out?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“He said to let him know if it doesn’t work out.” I slid my phone three inches toward him. “Assure him it’s going to work out.”

“I’ll assure him of more than that. In person. Let’s get you dressed.”

We went to the bedroom, where Adam opened my top drawer and dug around the back, coming up with a pair of Christmas pajamas.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“It’s cold.”

I opened the drawstring pants. I’d gotten them when I was pregnant, promising to eat a tub of peanut butter cups and get fat as a house. “They have candy canes on them.”

He handed me the long-sleeved top. It had a collar with red piping and red buttons down the front.

“I have a perfectly good nightgown.”

“You’re supposed to do what I tell you.”

“Yeah. Stuff that makes sense like ‘get on your knees’ or ‘suck my cock.’ This is just weird.” I snapped up the nightgown.

“It’s too sexy,” he said, putting up his hands. “Give me a minute to explain. Just…” He laid his hands on mine, pushing the nightgown out of sight. “Just trust me.”

“You can explain, then I’ll trust you.”

“What’s the point of that?”

“Trust me.”

He sighed and shook his head a little. “Charlie knows him. Knows where he lives and what he looks like. He and I are going to visit him. Just to make sure he got the message. Which means you’re here by yourself. Do you want to be in the house alone?”

“Not really.” I was resigned to the scenario before he even finished.

“We’re getting someone to watch you. He’s going to stay in the living room. Hopefully it’ll be Dominic and he’ll be here in a minute.”

I picked the candy-cane pajamas off the bed, pensively pushing the red buttons through the holes. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

“No, it’s not. You did everything right. You texted. You met him in a public place. You were honest about your intentions, right?”

“Yes.”

“And as soon as it wasn’t working for you, you let him know.”

“I should have texted. A note on the back of the card? So stupid.”

“You had every right to assume it would be delivered. And I’m sure it’s nothing and I’m overreacting.”

“I’m sure.”

He kissed my forehead. “Thank you.”

“It’s too early for bed.”

“I was being unreasonable. Wear whatever you want.”

“The little elves are so cute.”

“They are.” He caught my lips in the tenderest of tender kisses.

I could have kissed him like that for another three or four days without interruption or acceleration, but there was a knock on the door.

“Let me get it,” he said. “And I meant it. Put on whatever.”

I put on the Christmas pajamas because the elves were cute, after all.