Mischief

  Nico grinned, baring his fangs. “Exactement.”

  She pinched his sweet undead ass for being cheeky.

  They finally made it through the freak show to the Highbury. Nora couldn’t help but feel a little proud of all the admiring looks Nico received from the women they passed, and from quite a few of the men. In truth, however, she preferred the way Nico looked the other 364 days of the year, when he could be found in worn jeans and work boots, with garden shears in his hands and dirt up to his knees and elbows.

  “There’s Justine,” Nora said, pointing at the girl coming through the crowd. It was impossible to miss her in her scarlet red witch’s dress and her matching red hat.

  Her orange-red hair was coiffed in old-fashioned victory rolls, and she wore glamorous ruby red lipstick. She’d dressed to impress and Nora had a feeling Justine had dressed to impress Nico. Justine spied them and waved enthusiastically. They had to push past an adult baby, Catwoman, and a satanic surgeon with blood on his scrubs to get to her. Nora eyed the baby, the surgeon, and the woman in the cat suit.

  “I feel like I’m back at the 8th Circle,” she said.

  Nico smiled. “You had big Halloween parties there?”

  “No, this is what it looked like every night.”

  Justine managed to weave her way through the crush of people like she had cast a spell on them. They didn’t even seem to notice her.

  “This is crazy, right?” Justine asked, bright-eyed and blushing.

  “A little,” Nora said. “I’ve seen crazier. You look fabulous.”

  “Thank you.” Justine patted her hair coquettishly. “Took me two hours to get my hair to do this. Hope it was worth it.”

  Nico said, “Worth every second.”

  Justine pointed at him and addressed Nora. “Are all Frenchmen this suave?”

  “In my limited experience, yes,” Nora said.

  Justine turned to Nico. “What’s the immigration process like in France right now?”

  “A nightmare,” he said.

  “Hmm,” Justine said. “Still gonna do it.”

  Nico put one arm around Nora’s waist and the other around Justine’s as they walked up the steps of the Highbury and through the open double doors.

  Nora gave the doorman their tickets—three of them—and Justine asked, “How much do I owe you for mine?”

  “It’s on me,” Nora said. “You’re our date, remember?”

  “Are you one of those rich writers?” Justine asked.

  “I wish,” Nora said. “I’m a decently-paid writer. But I have a second job.”

  “Professional cheerleader?” Justine asked.

  “Dominatrix,” Nico said.

  Justine’s brown eyes widened to saucers. “Wow,” she said. “Really?”

  Nora nodded.

  “So you weren’t kidding about the Marquis de Sade thing,” Justine said.

  “I read more de Sade than I watched Family Ties,” Nora said.

  “I can imagine,” Justine said. “So you’re a dominatrix and a writer. And he’s a farmer.”

  “Right,” Nora said.

  “So...how the hell does a dominatrix from New Orleans hook up with a French farmer?”

  “Do you want the long version or the short version?” Nora asked.

  “Short version first,” Justine said.

  “I used to work for Nico’s father.”

  “As a…writer?”

  “As a dominatrix,” Nora said.

  Justine looked at Nico then back at Nora. “Yeah, I’m gonna need that long version.”

  Chapter Ten

  The Highbury was an historic hotel with marble floors, red and gold Oriental rugs scattered here, there, and everywhere. Tarnished brass chandeliers cast low broken light over the partygoers. Nico fetched drinks from the bar—a beer for Justine, red wine for himself, a bourbon sour for Nora—and they all sat in a quiet-ish corner of the main lobby by the grand fireplace. Nico snagged a large armchair and Nora sat on his knee. Justine sat on the end of a long red sofa with her legs crossed, the tip of her red high heel occasionally brushing Nora’s leg, occasionally brushing Nico’s.

  Nora gave Justine the short version of the long version of how she met Nico. Justine listened in astonished silence, her pretty red lips parted as she looked from Nora to Nico and back to Nora again.

  “Well?” Nora asked.

  “So...you used to work for his biological father as a dominatrix in New York. Then someone told you there was a guy in France who was probably his son that he didn’t know about, and you went and found him?”

  “Right,” Nora said. “Confused?”

  “Skeptical,” Justine said, her eyes narrowed. “Are you shitting me?”

  Nora shook her head.

  “It is Halloween,” Justine reminded her. “People pull tricks on each other. Hence the phrase...trick or treat? I think we’re all familiar with that saying?”

  “Vaguely,” Nora said. Nico merely laughed. “But it’s all true. I’ve known Nico’s biological father since I was sixteen. He helped keep me out of juvie.”

  “And this is how you repay him? By boinking his son?”

  “It’s my fault it happened,” Nico said to Justine before Nora could answer. “She did nothing wrong.”

  Ah, Nico. This is why Nora loved him. Not once had Nico allowed anyone to blame her for their unorthodox relationship. His honor—and male pride—wouldn’t allow it. Nora remembered when Kingsley had come to Nico’s house looking for her right after they’d started seeing each other. Nico had bodily inserted himself between her and his father. You don’t talk to her, you talk to me. You don’t blame her, you blame me. You don’t fight with her, you fight with me, Nico said once, then twice, easily a hundred times, in English and in French, softly and loudly and right in Kingsley’s face.

  When Kingsley attempted to push past Nico to speak to Nora, the two men had almost come to blows. Nora had tried to make peace. She got two words out—Nico, please—before Nico had shushed her with a hiss and a slash of his hand (a gesture which Nora found equal parts chauvinistic and sexy). Go upstairs, Nico had ordered her. This is between me and my father.

  Later Kingsley would tell her that was the first moment he’d had hope for him and Nico—when Nico, even in his fury, had called Kingsley his father.

  “So you’re saying it’s true?” Justine asked Nora. “It’s all Nico’s fault?”

  “Let’s say…if he hadn’t followed me across two countries, this—us—wouldn’t have happened. Since the moment we met, I had this feeling—dread specifically—that it was inevitable, but I never would have made the first move.”

  “I stalked her and seduced her,” Nico said, utterly shameless about the whole thing, which she appreciated.

  “Stalking is such a strong word,” Nora said.

  “I waited until you were in the bathroom, dug through your bag to see where you were staying, and I followed you there without telling you I was coming.”

  “Stalking might be the right word,” Nora said.

  “It was a few days after her mother died,” Nico explained. “She’d flown to France to have dinner with me. Then she drove into Germany where she was staying alone in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. I showed up on her doorstep in a storm. She was too lonely and heartbroken to send me away, which I knew she would be.”

  “Evil,” Justine said.

  “I was already in love and willing to, ah, how do you say…?” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember. “Press my advantage?” he said, not bragging but not not bragging either. He had more in common with Kingsley than he was willing to admit. “Otherwise I knew she’d never let it happen, because she was so close to my father and didn’t want to hurt him.”

  “Were you trying to hurt him?” Justine asked Nico, an astute question and one Nora had never had the guts to ask. This was a good date. They were already opening their hearts to each other. And Justine was a good listener. If Nico could open up to her, that spoke vol
umes about the girl.

  “He accused me of it,” Nico said. “Using her to hurt him, I mean. I wasn’t. It had nothing to do with him at all. But I wasn’t thinking of his feelings either. I would now but, ah…too late.” Nico gave Nora a little smile.

  “That’s so wicked hot,” Justine said, obviously impressed. “I wish someone would be that ruthless to get me into bed.”

  “It’s funny,” Nora said. “My mom’s one wish for me was that I’d settle down with a nice young man. Someone who’d love me and never hurt me in any way. Somehow when she died, she made sure that happened.”

  “Ghosts are matchmakers,” Justine said. “You always gotta watch out for ghosts. But what about dear old dad? How’s he taking it?”

  “Kingsley? He’s happy for us now,” Nora said. “We’re one big happy weird fucking family. Emphasis on the fucking.”

  It was true. The fight about Nico had cleared the air between her and Kingsley at last. Kingsley and Nico had a good relationship that was getting better all the time. Kingsley had Søren to himself when she was in France. She and Kingsley had been lovers, they’d been business partners, and they’d been rivals. Finally, now, at last, they were friends.

  “That is wild. I’m going to need a lot more alcohol to process this.” Justine lifted her empty beer glass. “Not really, but any excuse to drink, right?”

  “All taken care of,” Nora said. “Care to pour?”

  “Of course,” Nico said.

  Nora hopped off his lap and unzipped her large purse she’d brought with her. From it she pulled a bottle of Syrah.

  “Is that yours?” Justine asked Nico.

  He nodded. “One store in town sells it. We’re not a very big winery.”

  “He’s being modest,” Nora said. “His Rosanella Syrah has won all the major industry awards. Older vintages sell for hundreds of dollars a bottle.”

  “Then deal me in,” Justine said.

  Nora fetched wine glasses from the bar and Nico poured the Rosanella.

  “I’ve heard of BYOB,” Justine said. “But never BYOW.”

  “Now you have,” Nico said. “Try it.”

  “Not yet,” Nora said before Justine could lift her glass. “We have to toast.”

  “Oh, yeah, definitely,” Justine said.

  “A toast, then,” Nico said, raising his glass, “to Halloween, candy, and mischief, but most of all to beautiful wine and delicious women.”

  “Candy is dandy,” Justine said. “But liquor is quicker.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Nora said. They all clinked their glasses and drank.

  Justine moaned softly with pleasure when she lowered her glass to her knee. “I hate being broke,” she said. “I’d drink this stuff every day if I had money.”

  “I was broke at your age, too,” Nora said. “Hang in there. Your thirties are a lot more fun than your twenties.”

  “I don’t know if that’s possible. I’m having all the fun tonight,” she said.

  “Good,” Nora said. “Want to have even more fun?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Shall we dance?” Nora asked.

  “I don’t dance,” Nico said.

  “I wasn’t talking to you, Dracula,” Nora said. “Justine?”

  She grinned again. “I thought you’d never ask. You going to save our seats?” she said to Nico.

  “Nope,” Nora said and winked at Nico. “He’s going to watch.”

  The three of them found the small ballroom, which looked like a scene from the Monster Mash. Werewolves were dancing with zombie prom queens, Superman with Satan. A DJ dressed as Santa Claus played dance music interspersed with the occasional horror movie scream or demonic cackle.

  Nora took Justine out onto the dance floor while Nico stood by the red velvet curtains with his wine in hand, watching them. The DJ put on “Love Shack” followed by a little “Crazy in Love” followed by “Thriller,” which got all the werewolves howling. Justine was in the mood to put on a good show for Nico. She threw her arms around Nora’s shoulders and danced as dirty as any dirty dancer has ever danced in the history of dirty dancing. There were pelvic thrusts, slinking spins, and some playful spanking. Nico simply stood, watched, and laughed at the performance.

  “He’s so sexy,” Justine said to Nora. “And the accent kills me. If I didn’t love you already, Mistress Nora, I’d hate you. If you meet another one of him, send him to me, okay?”

  “You can have that one if you want,” Nora said. “I’ll share.”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  “It’s what I do,” Nora said, spinning Justine away from her and back in. “I tempt people.”

  It might have been the tone of Nora’s voice or the look on her face that did it, but she saw the moment when Justine realized Nora was not kidding.

  “You mean you’d really share him?” Justine asked. She’d stopped dancing to ask the question. She even glanced over at Nico who gave her a little wave.

  “I mean it,” Nora said. She pulled Justine closer to her. The girl had a lovely body and it had been too long since she’d been with a girl. Weeks even. They started slow dancing in a very silly manner to amuse their audience of one. Plus, it allowed them to have a serious talk. “I told Nico last night I wanted to watch him with another woman.”

  “Watch him do what? Like...are we talking lap dance? Kissing? Ass freakery?”

  “Blow job mainly,” Nora said. “That’s my personal fantasy.”

  “I would pay cold hard cash to go down on Nico,” she said.

  Nora laughed. “Luckily, he’s free. And if you’re interested, he likes you.”

  “He does?” she asked.

  “He does. He thinks you’re beautiful and funny and fun.”

  “I think he’s beautiful and funny and fun. We have so much in common,” Justine said, fluttering her hands in front of her face in excitement. “But...I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. Well, not since college.”

  “If you’re not interested, don’t worry about it. We’re just glad you wanted to hang out with us.”

  “Hey, hey, hey now,” Justine said, glancing over at Nico again. “Don’t try to talk me out of it. Try to talk me into it.”

  “That’s not how it works. I don’t push or pressure. I just open the door. Up to you to walk through.”

  “So the door’s open?” Justine asked.

  “Wide open,” Nora said.

  “How wide?”

  “Wide as the Montana sky, beautiful. I promise. Go kiss him,” Nora said.

  “On the mouth?” Justine asked, putting on a very good show of being scandalized.

  “For starters,” Nora said with a wink.

  “What about you?”

  “I can kiss him whenever I want,” Nora said.

  “I mean, can I kiss you?”

  “Have you ever kissed another woman before?” Nora asked.

  “Never,” Justine said. “Well, not since college.”

  “Just give it the old college try then.”