by Kate Allure
“That’s because I don’t want to hear even one more word about my being at that club. You’re the only reason I might have been outed since you were the one who kept saying my name, and—”
“No,” he interrupted. “That is not why I am calling. The opposite, actually. It was such a blooming shock running into you there. I do apologize, and I hope you will forgive my boorish behavior.”
“Well…” She wanted to rant some more, tell him his conduct was unacceptable, demand to know why he was fucking other women, but his contriteness surprised her. “Um. I feel the need to point out that you were there, too, and I’m guessing having sex with women who were not your fiancée.”
“Victoria, I—”
“I go by Tori now.”
“Oh, okay. Tori it is, then. I know this is going to come as a bit of a surprise after everything, but I would like to invite you to dinner. We have been close friends for years, and I hate the way we ended things. I think we should talk about it, see if we can still be friends.”
“I don’t know. This is a bit of a stunner.”
“Victo—I mean, Tori, please consider having dinner with me. For old times’ sake, if nothing else. Please at least hear what I have to say. It surprised me, finding you at Club Exotica. I think we both underestimated each other, and it would be such a waste to throw our friendship away.”
She vacillated. Both men wanted to apologize, and maybe that was the way to get past all this hurt. Let the men have their chance, but offer them only platonic friendship in return. She hated to admit it, but she missed Rupert’s friendship.
“Please? What do you say? Join me for dinner.”
That he pleaded astonished her. He’d never lowered himself like that before. It must be a sign of how much he wanted her friendship back.
“Okay. Sure. Thank you for the invitation.”
“Oh, excellent. Would next Tuesday work? I can pick you up at eight.”
“Sure. I’ll see you then.”
“Thanks, Vic—I mean, Tori. See? Even this old dog can learn new tricks. Cheerio till next Tuesday.”
“’Bye.” She pushed the off button, then hurriedly opened her office door, calling to her clerk, “Sorry. Had a call I couldn’t—”
Standing in the foyer were six colleagues, all smiling at her, each one holding a gift—five parcels and another sumptuous bouquet of flowers.
Incredible!
Ian was a world master when it came to wooing, she silently admitted. And he hadn’t been bad as a Master, either. She giggled.
“Come in.” She beckoned with her hands.
The various staff and a fellow judge flowed into her office, each commenting and/or asking questions:
“Boy, are you lucky!”
“Who sent all this?”
“Is it your birthday?”
And more.
She liked all the attention and envious looks. Who wouldn’t?
Although a shadow of guilt darkened her delight. It felt wrong to accept gifts from someone she wasn’t going to take back into her life. But then again, this rare situation was irresistible. Never before had a man cared enough to do anything excessive to please her, let alone this kind of demonstration.
After her colleagues placed the packages on her desk, they stood around, clearly curious to see what they held.
“Okay, I’ll open them.”
The biggest package contained two more bottles of her favorite wine. Then came another box of chocolates and an F&M platter of cheese and crackers. The smallest bag contained an MP3 player and a note telling her he’d preloaded it with music chosen especially for her. She tucked that gift into her purse.
Lastly, she opened a gift-wrapped box to find a red silk scarf.
The ladies oohed and ahhed over everything.
“You’re a lucky girl,” noted her elderly receptionist, and several begged her to reveal the name of her admirer.
However, it was the young male clerk who asked the question that made her blush. “What’s the deal with the scarf? I mean, it’s nice and all, but it doesn’t seem to fit with the other presents.”
“Well, um.” Stuck on the real reason for a neck scarf, she could think of no answer that made sense, so she went on the offensive. “Who knows? It’s the end of the day. Let’s have a party!”
She guessed that was Ian’s intention, even knowing he wouldn’t be one of the guests. Everyone went to get glasses or help open the wine, while she read the text that had buzzed when her phone rang.
Randy: I can’t stop thinking about you. Please let me apologize to you in person
Pain knifed her, cutting her gut. Tears burned the corners of her eyes. She missed him terribly, no matter how much she denied it.
No! She couldn’t trust him.
But she really wanted to.
Distracted, she pretended to enjoy the impromptu party for her colleagues’ sake. No one seemed to notice that her laughs were hollow or that she hardly paid attention to the bubbling chatter.
A question bumped about in her mind. What did one do with two ex-lovers who betrayed you but then wouldn’t leave you alone?
She raised her wineglass in salute to her colleagues, but privately she toasted the mess she’d made of her life—all because she wanted more fulfilling sex.
She downed half of her glass in one big swig. No one noticed.
Going forward, she was determined to focus on her work—something that mattered far more than the number and size of her orgasms. But the prospect left her as empty inside as the two wine bottles she’d just tossed in the rubbish bin.
Even so, she resolutely put sex out of her mind and joined the party.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Saturday and Sunday proved long and boring. Tori declined Diana’s invitation to go back to Club Exotica, and she spent most of Saturday trying not to think about Ian.
On Sunday morning, Diana called to report she hadn’t seen him at the club the night before. Tori wasn’t sure whether that pleased her or whether it would be easier if he moved on to new prey.
Back in her chambers on Monday morning, she tried hard not to wish for more texts and gifts from him.
She checked her mobile often.
In the afternoon it buzzed, and she snatched the phone from her desk.
Randy: rosa rubicundior, lilio candidior, omnibus formosior, semper in te glorior
She read the sweet poem twice, translating it in her mind.
Redder than the rose,
Whiter than the lilies,
Fairer than all things,
I do ever glory in thee.
A quick internet search revealed it to be an excerpt from Carmina Burana, the medieval poetry of Benedictine monks turned into a symphonic masterpiece by Carl Orff.
She couldn’t bring herself to delete this text as she had all the others.
All through her morning hearing, she had to fight to stay focused, Ian and his beautiful poem filling her thoughts. After a tedious two hours, she proclaimed, “Court is adjourned. We’ll reconvene this afternoon.”
She hurried out of court, anxious to check if he’d texted again. Stepping out of the anteroom, she stopped short.
There Ian stood. “Hi, Tori.”
“Were you waiting for me?” she asked, making a half-hearted attempt to go around him.
He placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Yes, I was. You won’t answer my calls or return my texts.”
“There’s a reason for that. I don’t want—”
“I need to explain why I did it. I tried in the letter, but I also want to apologize to you directly.”
“There’s no need.” He looked relieved, but she continued, “Because apologies expect forgiveness, and that won’t happen.”
If she forgave him, she’d want him in her life, but she wasn’t sure she could ever trust him again. “Please let go of my arm.”
He let go but didn’t give up. “Please, Victoria.”
She raised an eyebrow, her eyes tigh
t with unshed tears.
“I mean, Justice Whittingstall. Let me explain, if for no other reason than to mend our professional relationship. Please let me take you to lunch and clear the air. What do you say?”
She looked away. Thinking was impossible while looking into his beautiful azure eyes. “It would probably be a good idea to talk. Only so we can put everything behind us.”
“I promise, I won’t try any of my old tricks.”
Still, she wavered, but since she was giving Rupert a chance to make peace with her, it seemed only fair. “All right. I’ll give you one hour.”
“Thank you.” He beamed and reached out to touch her arm again.
She pulled back and stepped away. “One hour and just lunch. Nothing more.”
“Brilliant. I’ve made a reservation at the Seven Stars for noon, in case you said yes. We should probably head out so we’re not late.”
After she dropped off her judge’s robe, they walked together the couple blocks to the ancient pub, talking only about trivial stuff. They were seated at a small corner table and placed their orders.
With the tables jammed together in the tiny restaurant, they had no real privacy, but the loud din of the bustling lunch crowd created its own sort of seclusion. They spoke quietly, leaning toward each other to hear.
“Thank you for agreeing to hear me out,” he murmured.
“The facts are pretty clear, so I’m not sure what you can tell me that will change anything.”
“I hope you’ll believe me…” He reached out and took her hand in his, holding firmly when she tried to tug it away. “I’m truly sorry for everything. I know I explained it all in the letter, but if you’ve any questions, I would like to answer them.”
“I didn’t read the letter.”
“Oh.” He looked surprised. Then disappointed. “Okay, well, here goes. I didn’t know who you were until after the first time we made love.”
She yanked her hands back. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Did you know who I was?”
“No, but it was dark and we didn’t talk, except to yell over the music.”
“Can’t you accept that it’s possible I didn’t know who you were, either?”
“Okay. I’ll concede that point, but you knew who I was the second time we hooked up, and you concealed it from me.” Anger flaring, she started to rise from her seat. “This is useless.”
“No, wait! Please.”
The food arrived, and she sat back down. It wasn’t in her to make a scene, and leaving the waitress with their orders in her hands would be a scene.
Once the server departed, Ian started talking rapidly. “It was the most arseholey thing I’ve ever done in my life. Making love to you without telling you. I know that now, but there was a reason.”
Stirring her food aimlessly, she just glared at him.
He rushed on. “You may not believe me, but I was going to tell you. I was. Remember, I invited you to dinner? I’d planned to tell you then. That night at the club, I tried again in the private alcove in the Serengeti.”
“You had plenty of opportunity to reveal the truth if you’d really wanted to.”
He lifted his hands. “You told me you didn’t want anything but sex. No dining or talking. Which made me realize it was too soon to tell you everything. Too soon to tell you I want more from you than just sex.”
She looked at him incredulously. “You expect me to believe that your motives were…altruistic?”
He gave a short bark of laughter. “Altruistic? No, definitely not that. I wanted you. I’d dreamed about having you, and I still do. Once I got over the shock of discovering who you really were at the club, I wanted you even more. Our time in the private rooms was incredible. Even you must agree.”
She wasn’t sure. Their screwing had stood out as monumentally amazing…but she had limited experience. Could she trust that he was telling the truth about that? About anything?
“It was fine,” she said, keeping her pitch and manner flat.
“Fine?” He frowned and crooked an eyebrow at her.
The censure in his expression—his dominance shining through—sent electricity straight to her sex. Whether she wanted to or not, the newly discovered sub in her instinctually responded. Those delicious tingles were back, and she realized she’d missed them, too.
“Okay, okay. I’ll concede that point.”
Still he waited, silently demanding her full compliance.
She straightened, raising her chin. She exhaled in an exasperated huff. “I always knew you were an excellent barrister, but now I can see why you’re a rising star. Yes, if you must know, I thought it was incredible, too.”
He smiled at her, triumph shinning in his eyes and a wicked grin curving his lips. He leaned in and spoke quietly. “You looked amazing, all trussed up and so beautifully aroused.”
She blushed. Images of her tied to the cross and the bed filled her mind, along with every salacious thing they’d done together.
She fought the melting heat inside her and spoke firmly. “That doesn’t change anything. You lured me back, put a slave collar on me, and you—” She halted abruptly and glanced around at the other diners, horrified at her slip. Thankfully, everyone was eating and talking.
“It’s okay. No one heard you.”
She kept her voice soft and asked the question she really wanted the answer to. “When did you recognize me?”
“That first Thursday night. After you ran away, I chased after you. I wanted to make sure you were okay and to tell you I wanted to see you again. I heard you talking in the pub—the music had been turned off for some reason. That was when I recognized your voice.”
“I was right, then. You knew who I was the entire time we were in the BDSM suite. Was that your idea of a sick joke?”
“No! Never that.” Strong emotion flashed across his face, and he again grasped her hand. He cleared his throat and said, “I promise, when I met you at the club, it was never my intention to hurt or trick you. All I wanted was to make love to you. Make the sex so great, you’d want more. Want me. And later, when you seemed ready, I could tell you who I was. Remember, you told me very specifically you just wanted sex.”
She watched him carefully, praying he was telling the truth.
When she didn’t respond, he pleaded, “I can only say that I’m sorry. Over and over, and as long as it takes. I made a terrible mistake in judgment. I should have told you right away, whether you rejected me or not. Also, I want you to know that I immediately transferred to another court so you don’t have to worry about any impropriety issues.”
She took a deep breath. If felt as if she was teetering on the edge of a giant cliff. The wrong move could send her hurtling toward a spirit-crushing end, but carefully retreating would bring a different sort of pain also.
She took a deep breath. “Ian, I forgive you.” The rightness of saying it lifted her and told her she truly meant it.
He beamed at her, his smile huge.
“But I’m not sure I can trust you. I need time to sort this out.”
His grin fell away, and he quietly withdrew his hand from hers. “I guess I can understand that. But in the meantime, will you let me be your friend? We can start over, if you like.”
“Yes, I think I’d like that. But just friends. Nothing more.”
Ever the confident young man, he stuck his hand out and shook hers energetically. “Brilliant! Just friends…for now.”
“You’re impossible.” But she grinned.
“Impossibly good, don’t you mean?”
She chuckled and began to relax.
While they ate, he asked lots of questions about her childhood and her career, basically wanting to know everything about her.
He looked impressed by her story. “I can’t believe how much you’ve achieved on your own. The Queen’s Counsel and a high court judge appointment. And at such a young age.”
“Not that young.” Her gut tightened at the reminder
of their age difference.
“You know what I mean. You’re one of the youngest people in the high court.”
She nodded absentmindedly, still trying to wrap her mind around their age difference. “How old are you, anyway?”
Shite! She’d blurted it out without thinking, and now it sat there heavily between them.
He didn’t seem perturbed. “I’m thirty-four. I want to be the youngest person ever appointed to the high court. I’m trying to do it on my own without using my family connections. The fact that you did it all on your own inspires me.”
“Thank you.”
“I have a five-year plan, and I’m working it.”
She smiled at him, his enthusiasm infectious. What did their ages matter, anyway, since they were only going to be friends? They talked for a second hour, bantering back and forth, sometimes almost flirting. He had an impressive history, too, and a strong work ethic. In the end, she was glad she’d agreed to lunch and that they’d reconciled as friends.
She gathered her things to head back to the Royal Courts. “I think you’re going to do great things, Ian King, but may I give you a little advice?”
He nodded. “I meant it when I said you inspire me. I’m sure I could learn a lot from you.”
“So, my advice is, try to refrain from tormenting the presiding judge, however difficult you may find that. And flirting is a big no-no. And…” She paused, drawing it out. “Whatever you do, don’t fuck the judge. At least not until you disclose exactly who you are.”
He chortled. “Touché.”
And she laughed, too.
He escorted her back to the Royal Courts, and they talked in a rush the entire time. In several important ways they were similar—both loved the law, were driven to succeed, and had high expectations for themselves. As they walked, her gaze flicked sideways frequently, the need to memorize his handsome profile driving her even though she knew she shouldn’t care.
Nearly there, he took her hand, then dropped it just as quickly when she glanced at him She knew he felt it, too—the magnetic pull to get closer that seemed to grow stronger the more time they spent together. Just saying the words “Let’s be friends” didn’t make it so. Didn’t diminish the intense mutual attraction that made them feel like lovers, whether they made love or not.
