The Mistress
“I’m sorry,” Nora said. “I’m pretty sensitive about my age, too. Doesn’t help when you’re sleeping with a younger man.”
“Yes, your younger man—fascinating.”
“Wes? Is he alive?” Nora asked the question she’d been afraid to even utter in her own mind. But she had to know.
“Oh, oui. We barely touched him. Andrei is well-trained. He knows how to make someone unconscious without killing him. He doesn’t like it—not killing them, I mean. But he follows orders well. You see, your fiancé is actually important.”
“You got his attention, I promise.” Nora offered a silent prayer of thanks to God that Marie-Laure hadn’t killed Wesley. One thing to be grateful about today. Wes was alive and so was she...for now.
“Handsome boy, your younger man. Very handsome. But no one is as handsome as my husband.”
“Blondie’s a hottie,” Nora agreed.
“Once I thought if my husband loved me, I’d never desire anyone else on earth. How could I when I had him? And yet, you have his love but have run off with another.”
“It’s complicated.”
“I see that. Go on. I’m all ears.”
“What? You want me to tell you about my love life?”
“Tell me about this fiancé of yours. That ring on your finger could feed a third-world country for a year.”
“Only a very small country.”
“You aren’t impressed by the ring?”
“It’s a rock,” Nora said. “Literally. Diamonds are rocks. You dig them out of the ground with a shovel. Wes might as well have given me a bag of gravel.”
“That’s a rather rare and large bit of rock. And you must have liked it if you accepted it, non?”
Nora set her jaw tight and glared at Marie-Laure. Everything within her rebelled at talking about her Wesley with this woman. She didn’t even deserve to say Wesley’s name much less know all about their private life.
“Wes is a good friend.”
“A good friend? That’s how you describe your fiancé?”
No, it wasn’t. In her heart Wesley was love and light and big brown eyes that made her thighs melt. He adored her and desired her and wanted to protect her even from Søren, who was the only man who she felt safer with than even Wesley.
“We’re good friends, yes.”
“A very good friend. You spent a week in his bed.”
“Well...not the whole week. We did get out sometimes.”
“You’re trying to pretend you don’t care about him. I don’t believe it. You don’t agree to marry someone you don’t care about.”
“Why not? Søren did.”
Marie-Laure’s eyes flashed.
“Damon?”
Damon stepped forward and grabbed Nora by the throat. Marie-Laure crawled forward across the covers and knelt primly in front of where Nora sat pinioned in place with Damon’s hand squeezing her neck. She could breathe still, thank God, although his fingers gripped her tight enough to leave bruises. It’s okay...she could take this and not panic. How many times had Søren held her against the wall, his fingers around her throat? A thousand times surely. Of course, with him, the hand on her throat had belonged to a man who loved her, who’d cut off his own hand before actually hurting her. And when he held her by the throat, it was to arouse her, to stir her hunger for him with his power and possessiveness. Damon did it to terrorize her into compliance, into defeat. She went silent and still. Let him think he won. She knew better.
“Listen to me,” Marie-Laure began, her voice soft and sinister. “I’m going to tell you something very important so pay attention. I can’t begin to tell you how entertaining it’s been making my husband and my brother dance for me this past week, trying to discover who on earth it was who was tormenting them. I love this game and I’m not ready for it to be over yet. Right now my husband is experiencing real terror, terror so potent I can smell it on the air. For whatever reason, he loves you, whore and harlot that you are. And since he loves you and I have you, I can make him dance for me as long as I desire. Of course this can’t go on indefinitely, can it? Even I get bored.”
“What do you want?” Nora asked when Damon’s fingers slackened enough to let her speak.
“I want someone to die,” Marie-Laure said simply. “I have seen you all—you and my husband and my brother—you’re like a fabric all woven together. I want to pull one thread and see you all unravel. If you die, my husband will be destroyed. If my husband dies trying to save you, my brother will be destroyed. To kill one of you will kill you all. I want to watch this happen. I want to see it unfold before my eyes. I want my husband and my brother and you to know that eventually we all must pay for our sins. That is why I have you now and why I’m going to keep you here a little while. I’m calling in their debts. It’s time for someone to pay up.”
Marie-Laure moved a little closer. She picked up the abandoned towel and wiped the dripping water from her shower off Nora’s face. Nora cringed at the gentle gesture.
“If you keep taunting me like this, however,” Marie-Laure continued, “then I’m going to lose my patience with you and let Damon and Andrei have you, and I’m quite certain you wouldn’t survive playtime with them. So I will ask you very politely to keep your commentary to yourself. I would hate to see this game end prematurely. Do you understand me?”