“You see only a sliver of the truth. And a lie can tell you more than a partial truth.”
Suzanne took a deep breath.
“Then tell me all. You say you know him better than anyone. I want to know him too.”
Kingsley set the box back down on the bedside table and stepped toward her until he stood so close a whisper couldn’t even slip between them.
“You don’t know what you’re asking.” He raised his hand to her face and caressed the arch of her cheekbone with his fingertips. “Trying to know him is like wrestling with God. You remember what happened to Jacob, no? He grappled with God and limped away the next morning.”
Suzanne nodded slowly.
“I’ve been limping since the day Adam died. Please…I know you can help me.”
Gently Kingsley pressed a kiss on her face right by her ear.
“I can help you. But I give nothing away. If you want to cross the river Styx, you must pay your coin to Charon.”
“I don’t have a lot of money. Just a reporter.”
“I have more money than I know what to do with. It isn’t your money I desire.” Kingsley’s hand dropped to her neck. He pressed his thumb lightly into the hollow of her throat. “But if you are willing to pay, I am willing to answer.”
Suzanne swallowed and felt the pressure of his thumb on her neck.
Was she willing to pay? She had no doubt in her mind what form of currency he traded in. Apart from Father Stearns, from Søren, she’d never seen a more alluring man in her life. Everything about him…his clothes, his sensual mouth, his voice and that accent…in truth, it wasn’t such a terrible price to pay. Even without the promise of answers, she would be tempted....
“I wanted to believe there was one good priest in this world,” she whispered. “But if he—”
“He is a good priest. And a good man. And I can supply the proof you need of it. If that is what you wish.”
Finally Suzanne nodded.
“Yes, it is.”
“Then come with me.”
Kingsley held out his hand and Suzanne took it with more fear than she’d ever felt on a battlefield. He started off and took her out of the bedroom and down the hall.
“Where are we going?” She’d thought he’d take her in Father Stearns’s bed or even on the floor, but they seemed to be leaving the house.
“Manhattan. I have something to give you…if you earn it.”
They left the house and he guided her around the back where a Rolls Royce waited. A beautiful young woman in a chauffeur’s uniform hopped out of the car and with a sprightly step opened the back door for them. Kingsley entered first and Suzanne followed, already regretting it.
“But I’ve got my car. Well, Patrick’s car.”
“I’ll have it returned to Patrick. He’s still in the Village, oui?”
“Jesus, you do know everything about me.”
Kingsley smiled again as the car started and pulled out onto the road.
“Not quite.” He cupped the side of her face and brushed her lips with his thumb. “I don’t know what sounds you make when you come. Let’s find that out, shall we?”
Before she could answer, Kingsley leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. He did nothing at first, merely waited on her. Suzanne told herself she was doing this for Adam…before slowly parting her lips. Closing her eyes, she let Kingsley take over the kiss. His hand twined in her hair. He held her neck firmly as if to remind her she belonged to him now and could not escape. As his tongue touched the tip of hers, her desire to escape died and the need to surrender was born. And she wasn’t doing this for Adam or Father Stearns. She wanted Kingsley. She would do this for her.
“Tell me, Suzanne, have you ever had sex in the back of a Rolls Royce?”
Kingsley didn’t wait for her to answer. He pushed her onto her back as he pulled her legs apart and rested his hips hard against hers. Oh, God, she thought, this is really happening. With deft fingers, he unbuttoned her blouse and opened it. He kissed his way from her neck to her navel and up again.
She closed her eyes and let the sensation of a stranger’s hands on her body wash over her. Not just any stranger, she reminded herself. This was Kingsley Edge, the bogeyman who kept even the most hardened of investigative reporters up at night. And now she was one of them. One of the reporters Kingsley Edge kept up all night.
“Don’t pretend you aren’t enjoying this,” Kingsley whispered in her ear. “I know you’re trying not to enjoy this.”
“I’m doing this for information, not pleasure.”
“Liar.”
Suzanne blushed at the truth in his accusation.
Kingsley nipped at her ear, her shoulder. His teeth on her skin sent shock waves of pleasure into her stomach.
“Even when I’m bending my secretary over my desk, I make sure she enjoys it. I’ll see that you enjoy it too, whether you want to or not.”
Before Suzanne could make another protest, Kingsley pulled up and away from her. She started to ask what he was doing but then she saw. He left the luxurious leather of the bench seat in the Rolls Royce and knelt on the floorboard. He snapped his fingers and gestured her to sit in front of him.
Suzanne slid to the center of the seat. Kingsley reached under her skirt, grasped her panties and dragged them roughly down her legs. She wanted to tell him to stop but the promise of so much information about Father Stearns kept her quiet even as Kingsley opened his pants.