Sonata (North Security 3)

Wolf doesn’t obey. Instead he hops playfully from armchair to armchair, shoving the heavy furniture across the hardwood floors with a screech.

I raise my eyebrows at Frans, who shrugs. “The training didn’t stick.”

Irish Wolfhounds have been gifts to royalty as far back as the ancient royal times. Wolf was my gift to Frans three years ago, when he was a puppy. He could do sit, stay, and down when I left him. Now he acts more like the puppy he was back then. No discipline. Ironic, considering some of t

he hobbies Frans entertains. Which reminds me of his recent nuptials.

“Are you going to tell me the real story?” I ask, settling into a chair by the blazing fire. The chill from the train ride seeped into my bones. I still can’t shake the memory of that woman’s encounter.

“Of my marriage? Once I’ve had more to drink.” Frans begins us down this path by pouring two glasses of brandy. He hands one to me before taking a seat. “That is a story I will share with very few men, but you’ll be one of them.”

“Dangerous?” I ask, because I’m responsible for security here.

“Not unduly. Scandalous certainly.”

That makes me smile. He knows he can share the story with me because my discretion would not allow sharing scandals. For one thing, I’m under an ironclad nondisclosure with North Security. For another thing, I don’t give a fuck about scandals. I know some of the people who run in Frans’s social circles. International businessmen and displaced royalty. They need services such as mine. They are clients, not friends. Only Frans has crossed that particular line.

“Then I’ll wait patiently.”

“You may wait patiently, but I have questions that will come sooner than that. Especially since I’m hosting a ball on behalf of the young and beautiful Miss Samantha Brooks.”

I manage not to react to the word beautiful. “She’s off-limits.”

An amused look. “I thought I noticed you acting like a wild animal downstairs. Such base instincts, my friend. I never would have thought you’d feel that way about a woman.”

“She isn’t an ordinary woman.”

“Not ordinary. What sort of people are after her? I read about the events in New York City with concern. I never would have thought you’d get shot, either. Especially in front of a crowd.”

“Happy to provide entertainment,” I say, taking a sip of the scotch. It goes down smooth. Only the best for the duke. I’ve learned to navigate this world, but that doesn’t mean I want it.

Frans’s dark eyes acknowledge my discomfort. He reaches a hand over the armrest to stroke Wolf’s head. The dog’s eyes roll back in ecstasy. “You never liked expensive spirits.”

“Or expensive houses. Expensive clothes.”

“That’s what you get for charging so much for your services.”

A low laugh. “You can afford it.”

“And look what I’ve purchased, a pretty young wife.”

“Pardon?” I ask, my tone bland.

“Don’t act like you’re going to kick my Spanish ass. It wasn’t as if I bought her at auction. This is how the old marriages are made. And I like old things. She was willing enough.”

Old memories turn my stomach. “Willing enough.”

“She agreed to the deal being made to save her family. Her sisters are currently traveling in Italy. Her brother was accepted at Harvard. Her family bears the fruit of her labor.”

“Labor that she understood from the start?” Frans has specific tastes that include things most brides wouldn’t expect. In other words, he’s kinky as fuck. It goes beyond silk blindfolds and padded handcuffs. I don’t judge his preferences, but it makes me uncomfortable to think of them visited on the vibrant young woman I met earlier. Especially if she hadn’t known in advance.

“It would have been indelicate to go into details during early courting rituals. I make sure she experiences pleasure, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“You know it’s not.” A woman can enjoy what’s done to her even if she doesn’t want it. The woman I met a few minutes ago hardly looked under duress, but a woman can also hide that part of her from the world. I learned that a long time ago.

“Then don’t look so dark and forbidding, my good friend. I don’t judge your lust for a woman who was once under your care. For all the pageantry of wealth, men are really just animals. We take what we want. We fuck who we want. We enjoy what we’ve had the strength to take.”

He lifts his glass for a toast, and though I’d like to disagree, it would be hypocritical. Samantha is the only thing I’ve ever wanted, and I’ve kept her to me ruthlessly.