the key and the white

"Nickerson."

Ned glanced up from his phone, then slotted it into his jeans pocket without taking his gaze away from the man in front of him. With his other hand he hitched the strap of his messenger bag a little higher.

"Your presence has been requested. House business."

Ned quirked an eyebrow up as the man who had stopped him opened the rear door of a sleek black SUV and gestured for him to get in. Ned checked out the vehicle, pausing for only a few seconds before sliding into the backseat. His jeans slid easily against the leather, and the interior was cool, especially after the heat of the day.

"ID, please."

Ned studied the man's impassive face, then handed it over. The guy, who was built like a tank with an ex-military bristly crew cut, compared it to something else, then handed it back with a nod and started the engine.

House business.

Ned's stomach growled a little, and he reached into his messenger bag for a sleeve of peanuts. No telling when he'd be able to eat dinner.

The driver made it through rush-hour Chicago traffic with a few snarls and curses, and then they were driving into the nice part of town. Ned crunched another handful of peanuts and just took it in.

It wasn't that a part of him had always thought this day would come, this possible break... but maybe he had, a little. Maybe. He dusted a few grains of salt off his fingers and rolled his sleeves down, buttoning his cuffs again.

The SUV pulled into garage parking under a nondescript building, and Ned felt a little disappointed. He'd been hoping for something sleek, all glass and chrome, angles and intimidation. This place was an anonymous bland beige, virtually windowless, from his single glance at it.

The driver escorted Ned to the elevator, then entered a code and pressed the button for the top floor. Ned turned his gaze away, the code already memorized. Not that he thought he'd need it, but...

The landing bore a suite number, but no signage. With another code and a key they were through a glass door, into an office that seemed only just abandoned. A cardigan hung on the back of the receptionist's chair. A screen saver was still active on a computer they passed.

The driver knocked at a door, disappeared inside, then reappeared a moment later, gesturing for Ned to enter. He closed the door behind Ned, leaving him alone with the occupant of the room.

The table was gleaming cherry, although it was apparently put to frequent use. The surface bore some small marks and scratches. The flat-screen display behind the head seat at the conference table was blank, black, but the chair was occupied, by a woman.

Ned approached slowly, keeping his gaze on her. She looked familiar, but of course she would; she was a member of a House, likely a high-ranking one, given the cloak and dagger routine. Her reddish hair was streaked with blonde and barely brushed her shoulders. Her skin was fair, and her gaze on him was blue ice.

The second their gazes met, Ned felt an electrifying jolt that seemed to straighten his spine and temporarily stop his heart, which made up for it by rapidly pounding after.

"Have a seat." While her words were otherwise polite, her tone was brusque. Maybe she had been waiting too long. He doubted she would enjoy that.

Ned sat down in the chair she faced, studying her with some interest. She wore an olive sheath dress, with no jewelry. No earrings, no necklaces, no rings, no bracelets.

"I'm told you're the best at what you do."

Ned shifted his messenger bag onto the floor beside his right foot. "I try to be," he replied.

"If I, hypothetically, needed access to the contents of a Raybolt server, could you do it?"

"From offsite?"

"Preferably. If possible."

"Anyone on the inside?"

"Assume not."

Ned drummed his fingertips on the table a few times, pausing their rapid-fire conversation. His jaw ticked as he made a few assumptions. "Depends on circumstances," he replied. "In an unmodified setup, yes."

"But it may be difficult or impossible without access to the physical server."

"Of course." He flipped his hand over and showed his palm. "Hypothetically."

He saw her first smile then, thin and eyeblink-wide, and then they were both impassive again. "I'll need to hire you," she said. "Only you, not via your company. NDAs, the usual." She glanced down at something in her hand, then slid it across the table to him. An unmarked envelope.

"The fee for the job."

Ned couldn't help it. His eyebrows rose when he read the number, and he glanced up at her.

She nodded, and that ghost of a smile appeared and disappeared again. She planted her palms against the side of the table, poised to push herself back. "I'll give you a few hours to consider. You can reach me by using the number at the bottom. Time is of the essence here."

"Then I accept."

"Good." She reached for a sleek leather briefcase at her own feet and pulled out a sheaf of legal forms. "Can you start tonight?"

--

After a notary witnessed his signature on the non-disclosure agreement, the acceptance of work subcontracted by her House, all of it, he was shown deeper into the bowels of the building, to a workstation that had been apparently set up just for this assignment. Ned quickly checked the capabilities of the laptop and the software that had been installed, raising his eyebrow a few times, but keeping generally silent. He had no doubt he was being recorded.

A typed sheet of paper beside the computer bore all the information they apparently thought he would need, including an IP address. The trick wasn't going to be accessing the server itself, but breaking through the security surrounding it. Ned started working, and felt his phone vibrate in his pocket a few times, but ignored it.

When he glanced up, two hours had passed and his stomach was making incredibly urgent noises. The sleeve of peanuts was long-finished, and he had drained the now-tepid water from the glass bottle he habitually carried. He stood and stretched, checked the status of his latest process, then yawned and scrubbed his face with his hands. He desperately needed some caffeine, and some carbs.

Another impassive tank of a man was posted at the door leading into this office, and Ned tapped on the glass. The man glanced over at him and unlocked it.

"I need food," he said. "And caffeine. Are there vending machines in the building?"

The guard held up a finger, then spoke almost soundlessly, and Ned noticed the throat mic. After a brief conversation, the guard moved in front of the door again, facing the elevators.

Friendly lot.

Ned made a quick trip to the bathroom, and when he returned, the elevator car was just arriving. The guard nodded to the woman who had hired him, then stepped to the side. Her steady blue eyes met Ned's again.

And his heart kicked in his chest, again.

"How's the work going?" She gestured for him to join her, and Ned's body jerked forward. Following her into the elevator—he would almost say he was lightheaded from hunger, but that wasn't it, not quite.

She wore no perfume; he detected a faint hint of soap, and that was all.

"It's progressing. Assuming I'm able to breech, any idea what I'm looking for?"

She glanced up. She was nearly a head shorter than he was, but she was toned and muscular, on the taller side for a woman. From the way she carried herself, she seemed both confident and ready to take on almost anything. And despite everything, despite the strangeness of the evening and how cautious he was, he felt safe around her.

"Let's wait until we're in the car."

Her House likely owned the building, or at least a part of it, and she was still being that cautious. He nodded, and though he tried to keep his gaze elsewhere, somewhere neutral, it kept drifting back to her. Her fingernails were clipped short and unpolished. He could see a hint of color on her lips, but she didn't seem to be wearing makeup.

Now that he had the name of her House, he could find out her identity, but he hadn't wanted to take his own laptop out and start a simultaneous search. He had a feeling he'd vanish down that rabbit-hole instead.

They slid into the backseat of another sleek black SUV, and Ned glanced over at her. "Intellectual property theft," she finally answered his question. "Schematics for a design the inventor had stolen from him, further research. I've been hired to recover them."

Ned paused for a moment, considering how best to say what he was thinking. "Sounds like it would be difficult to prove."

"Would it help to tell you that the server belongs to the inventor?" That whisper of a smile touched her lips again. "He wants the files back. The thief, as soon as he's able to break into the server, will file patents, and that will be it."

"So I break in, recover the files..."

"And trash the server. The thief has no recourse; the files weren't his in the first place."

"Filing charges would take too long?"

She nodded. "Hence the NDA."

The SUV pulled into a strip mall. Ned blinked. They were at the edge of a nice neighborhood; the sign on top of the first shop just read NAILS in hot-pink neon. The driver parked right in front of a Chinese restaurant.

Ned glanced over at his temporary boss, one eyebrow raised, and she shrugged. "It's good and fast. And I wanted to see how you were doing. Do you have a feel for how much longer it might be?"

"There are only so many possible combinations. At least you have the admin key for the server. That'll help."

A man emerged from the restaurant carrying bags laden with food and slid into the passenger seat of the SUV. Ned could smell fried food and savory sauce.

The return trip somehow seemed longer, mostly because Ned's stomach didn't stop growling the entire time. He neither knew nor cared what was in the bags; he wasn't sure he would even taste it, he was so hungry.

Once they were back at the office, he grabbed his temporary laptop and headed to the conference room, placing it beside him so he could keep an eye on its progress while he ate. The woman had already laid out his food and hers: steamed white rice with beef and broccoli and a single spring roll for her; fried rice with seafood delight for him, double vegetables, and two egg rolls.

Ned glanced up at her immediately. He would have considered it an intimidation move, but she had already hired him. Showing off this way, now...

She placed a sweating can of his preferred soda near his styrofoam plate, and met his gaze. "Everything to your liking?"

He nodded, then slowly took his seat, his gaze still locked to her.

"We like to be thorough." She broke apart her chopsticks and rubbed them together a few times.

Maybe she just never turned it off.

Ned had just surfaced for air after steadily making his way through half his meal when her phone buzzed on the table. She directed an irritated glance at it, then glanced up at him before rapidly scrubbing her fingertips with a paper napkin and swiping it off the table. He could hear her murmured conversation on the other side of the door once she left, but he didn't bother trying to eavesdrop, just monitored the progress his program was making as he ripped open a packet of duck sauce and carefully ate a piping-hot egg roll.

His heart beat hard in jubilation, then sank when a message informed him that he had broken through the thief's security and finally had access to the server. He scrubbed his own fingers and typed in the admin key, and the transfer was in progress when the woman returned.

"Good news. It's downloading now."

For that news, he earned a full grin. Her blue eyes lit up in excitement. "Incredible. Let me know when it's done so I can contact the client."

She was beautiful. God, she was beautiful.

Ned nodded once, returning her smile. Impressing her could only win him points, and at this rate, he might actually be home by midnight.

After the files had finished downloading, he opened one just to make sure it hadn't somehow been corrupted or become the carrier for any malicious software. He saw a schematic, but the labeling...

He zoomed in on it. The writing was in Arabic.

He turned his laptop so the woman could see his screen. She paused with her chopsticks halfway to her lips, a ball of sticky rice resting between them.

She nodded. "Yes. You have all the files?"

He nodded. Even at his own workplace, he had never been on a wireless connection this fast. "Checksum matches. Just making sure this was what you expected."

"Yes. Thanks for checking."

Ned attached a spare external hard drive and copied the files to it, then ran a program to overwrite the contents of the server with encrypted garbage files. He passed the drive to her silently when he was finished.

She gave him a nod, and seemed to be considering something. Then she scrubbed her fingers again and reached for her phone, navigating through a few screens.

"The money will be in your account tomorrow."

Given everything else, he didn't bother asking how they knew his information. She was in security, after all, and seemingly the opposite as well.

She turned her phone so he could see it. A girl was captured in a photo, tilted and partially out of the frame, a fringe of dark hair partially covering one long-lashed dark eye as she gazed up at the lens.

"You helped her tonight," the woman said quietly. "Her family. She emigrated here with her parents, and her father trusted the wrong man. He's been stuck working backbreaking jobs far from his wife and daughter; no one in his field will hire him. Now, with his designs back..."

The little girl looked sweet, and Ned was glad to know about her, but what struck him even more was the expression on the woman's face. From the girl's shabby clothing, from the background, the family had to be in dire straits. He couldn't imagine that they had scraped together enough money to pay a House security firm for this work, or even for the massive paycheck he had been offered.

"Thank you for letting me help," he replied. "I'm glad I was able to."

She relaxed slightly, even smiled a little. He had passed some kind of test.

He finished the last few bites of his meal and packed up, trying hard to ignore the insistence that he make some kind of conversation with her, provide some kind of opening or even make the first move. She excused herself to make a call, and he dragged his feet a little, running his hand through his dark hair a few times. He was thrumming with nervous energy, now, the need to run, the need to... shout.

She rode down to the garage with him, offering her hand when the doors parted. "Thank you again," she said, meeting his gaze directly. Professional and businesslike.

He should have felt deflated, less anxious. But her demeanor didn't touch that nervous thrum. He took her hand and gave it a firm shake, and that contact sent a bolt of awareness, of pure energy, up his spine. "Thank you," he replied, his voice pitched slightly lower than usual.

She released his hand. The doors were closing.

He would never have this chance again.

And then she was gone, and the driver motioned for him to climb back into the SUV. In short order they were in front of his apartment, and Ned snickered quietly to himself when he felt the urge to pay the guy, like this was some kind of ridiculous taxi ride gone terribly wrong—or terribly right.

Once he was safely inside his own small apartment, he considered going to bed for half a second before he went to the refrigerator and snagged another can of soda. He pulled up a search engine and typed in a very specific query string.

Her photo appeared a second later, a bio beside it.

Nancy Drew.

Ned exhaled in a long sigh, steepling his fingers and letting his head relax against them.

Nancy fucking Drew. Firstborn and heir to her House, Second to its Prime, her father Carson Drew. Unattached, and unattainable, especially to him.

Ned was already half in love with her, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

For three weeks, Ned had been trying to forget her, and failing completely. Even taking the distasteful step of seeking out gorgeous, long-legged redheads and bedding a few hadn't done it.

Every day when he left work, he paused, scanning his surroundings, hoping to see that black SUV and that impassive mountain of a House retainer again. And on the nights he couldn't stop himself, he did more research on her.

She was three years younger than he, and her mother had died when she was very young. Her father had worked on both sides of the courtroom, was a high-powered and even more highly respected defense attorney, and was expected to run for a judgeship next year.

Most of the obvious information about Nancy was older, via glossy, sanitized press releases, showing her at ribbon-cuttings and charity functions, alongside her father, stepmother, and half-siblings. Now, though, she was harder to find, likely thanks to her career. He spotted a gossip story here, a paparazzi shot there, but nothing truly substantial. One report alleged a long-term boyfriend, but he found no photos or further information about that.

Then he thoughtfully pulled up another press release. Her House always made an appearance at a glitzy charity auction in Chicago that was held annually to benefit bright, impoverished students. A single seat was... his eyes widened when he saw the number.

Well. Thirty minutes later, after breaching the laughable firewall protecting the organization running the event and remotely picking through a few workstations, he had added his name to the list.

When Ned walked into the hotel lobby, heading for the ballroom where the fundraiser was being held, he wore an immaculate tuxedo. He was freshly showered and shaved, hair styled, and wearing his favorite aftershave. His best friend had offered to come crash the event with him, but had settled for the promise of a debrief after.

Most of him was expecting nothing to debrief about, but Mike had, as always, been cheerfully optimistic. Ned generally didn't have any problem picking up anyone who caught his eye.

But Nancy wasn't anyone.

He was granted entry with a smile, and found that his adjustments to the seating arrangement had been kept. He wasn't at the table beside that of her House, but the next one, with some other representatives of Houses who hadn't come with an entourage in tow. His neighbors were polite and happy to talk, and Ned was happy to ask them questions and let them talk about themselves. One particularly gorgeous woman with porcelain skin, black hair, and a dramatic red dress had accompanied her father, and after a few glances she sent in Ned's direction, he knew she was interested and close to making a move.

On another night, maybe he would have let himself overlook the petulant cast to Brenda's lip, the muttered acerbic comments. But not tonight.

Nancy arrived soon after, in conversation with her father, and Ned's gaze was riveted to her. She wore a formal gown in deep blue, her only jewelry a pearl bracelet, her makeup almost imperceptible. She didn't need it; too much makeup wouldn't suit her, honestly. He couldn't imagine her having the patience to use it much, and she was so beautiful without it.

Ned closed his eyes for an instant, realizing both that Brenda was talking to him and that he was outright staring at Nancy. He would earn a visit from her security if he didn't keep a hold on himself.

Once the auction itself had ended—Ned didn't risk his meager savings by bidding on anything, but he paid attention to when Nancy or her House placed a bid on something—the master of ceremonies thanked attendees and introduced a dazzling singer who would serenade them as they enjoyed their cocktails. The petulant Brenda and her escort headed to the bar. Ned sipped from his water glass and nodded and smiled when the woman next to him proffered photos of her grandchildren.

A gorgeous man wearing a bracelet of braided white leather approached Nancy and knelt beside her chair.

Ned went perfectly still, all his senses alert.

She was engrossed in conversation with her father, and didn't seem to notice him for a full minute. The man didn't move, just gazed up at her in worshipful adoration, on his knees in an otherwise immaculate tuxedo. Then she glanced over and, her mouth twisted in a moue of irritation, made a dismissive gesture. A member of her security staff approached and urged the man to his feet, ushering him away.

Ned was still watching a few minutes later, considering the possible implications, when a woman wearing a bracelet of braided white leather did the same thing. If anything, Nancy's reaction was more swift, and the staffer dispatched her too.

Shit.

She wasn't wearing any jewelry other than that pearl bracelet. He scanned her again to confirm. So the two fellow guests who had approached her were either mistaken, or...

He sat back, trying to focus on the woman beside him and utterly failing.

Ned was still reeling, ready to head home and regroup, when he spotted a House retainer heading straight for him. He stood casually, adjusting his jacket as he wished the grandmother beside him a good night.

"Your presence is requested."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Ned's face, and he followed.

He was directed to a small meeting room near the ballroom, the entrance flanked by security, and he was unsurprised to see her waiting for him inside. Even so, his heart started pounding, and for a wild, reckless instant, he considered kneeling before her, as he had seen the other two people do.

"So is this a job application, or a prelude?"

She was seated in a burgundy and gold striped armchair, her posture relaxed, unsmiling. At least she didn't look angry.

"Partially the former, but mostly the latter," he replied. He saw no point in lying.

"To the latter, it had better be a prelude to a work relationship," she replied, without a smile or any softening. "I have another job coming up. This little stunt does at least show some initiative and imagination."

He tilted his head. "Glad you think so."

She sighed and stood up. When her gaze dragged over him, he could sense reluctance in it, but he could also read the fine gradations of desire: the dilated pupils, the flare of her delicate nostrils, the almost imperceptible flush climbing up from her neck.

"Is there some compelling reason we shouldn't act on... what's going on between us?"

She set her jaw. "Yes."

He gave her a small nod. "I see," he murmured.

"I'll message you."

She began to stride toward the door, and Ned turned to keep his gaze on her. "I'm going back in the ballroom," he casually mentioned. "I love to dance. And if we were to meet out there, that's all it would be."

Her shoulder blades tensed for an instant, then relaxed. She didn't look back at him, and then she was gone.

And while Brenda was graceful in his arms, clearly fascinated by him and definitely interested in more, Ned couldn't help dwelling on Nancy's absence. At least there would be another job. At least he would have that.

He went home alone, but even though he changed into sweats and ran until he was all but dead on his feet, he still couldn't get Nancy out of his head.

--

"Let's go to a white club."

Saturday night, Ned and three of his best friends were just finishing their meal when he spoke up.

Howie turned a wide-eyed gaze on him. "Did you plan a bachelor party and forget to tell anyone?"

Ned smiled. "No. Just... interested."

"That's right, man. Get back on that horse." Mike clapped Ned on the back a few times. He had been disappointed that Ned had reported the charity auction as a total bust. In a way it had been, but seeing Nancy's reaction to him, hearing her tacit acknowledgement that she was attracted to him... well, that had been more than worth it. That, and the promise of more work.

He had been focused on getting ahead in his career for a long time, but now that he had met her... it wasn't that he wanted to throw his life or his work away, but there were other Houses, other potential employers. There was only one Nancy Drew.

Chicago boasted no fewer than three white clubs, although Ned had discovered a more exclusive fourth in his research, and that was the one he suggested after they left the restaurant, all a little buzzed and ready for some adventure.

He had visited white clubs twice. The first time had been as a member of a bachelor party, the second when Ned and his friends had been cheering Mike up after a bleak period in his life. Ned had taken someone home each night, but he had been disappointed in the experiences and had never sought to repeat them.

Even so, there was something tantalizing, forbidden and strange and arousing, in entering a white club. At the popular ones, a white bracelet could be made from anything: a paper chain, a zip tie, woven fabric. A clearly improvised bracelet signaled a dilettante. The partners Ned had taken home had worn braided cloth ties, so they had been more serious about it.

The club tonight... well, Ned had never seen anything like it, not in person.

The door charge meant it was nominally private, and once they were inside, the first person Ned saw was a woman so close to naked that the most substantial thing she wore seemed to be the braided white leather bracelet around her wrist, and the black studded collar linked to the leash her master held. She was on her knees, gazing worshipfully up at her master, who had a key inked on his neck.

Ned's stomach turned over.

Humiliation and degradation. Though Ned tried hard not to judge people, he found pets pitiful, pleading and whining and... empty. Oh, intellectually there was appeal in it: having sex with someone who was desperate to please and entirely submissive was supposed to be incredible. But Ned had never worn the key or the white, and never planned to, not even as a joke.

A little more than half of those wearing the key in the room were men. Some were collecting potential pets as an entourage, while some were sizing up the unclaimed and some were engrossed in just one admirer. They ran the gamut from clean-cut, well-groomed, conventionally attractive, to pierced and studded, clad in leather and dramatic makeup, to everything possible between.

And of course there were others like Ned and his friends, tourists, mobbing at the bar and standing at the side observing the show.

Ned watched a mistress claim her next pet, locking gazes across the room. She was clad in tight synthetic material, probably latex, her eyes heavily lined. She dipped her head to speak into her pet's ear, her fingers twining in her pet's hair to tug on it.

Ned glanced away, swallowing hard. Nancy moved in a social class so far above his own that it was unimaginable, that the most she might ever possibly want from him was a casual fuck, but this—this was insurmountable.

This is what you wanted, to get over her. Don't look away. This is why it will never work for you.

The chains, no matter how playful or symbolic they were; the sound of strikes from somewhere nearby, the hint of violence, of sadism and masochism... Ned's stomach turned, and when Howie suggested they find a table, Ned agreed immediately. For him and his friends, this was a show, something to consume but not necessarily partake in. He'd heard several men say, chests puffed up with pride, that they would bow to no woman, and had heard just as many women say they would bow to no man. Seeing the two people who had approached Nancy in the ballroom wearing the white openly had been... not quite shocking, but almost like seeing them stripped down to their underwear.

And that's what she'd have of you. That's the reason she had in mind.

She's not your type.

He spotted another mistress who had her fingers interlaced with those of a pet she was guiding through the crush toward the bar. He trailed along behind her, and when she slid onto a barstool, her pet dropped to his knees behind her. Like an actual animal.

Ned tried to imagine himself as that man, or as the one seated on the next barstool, and failed utterly. It was impossible. This preference was something people were born with, and he hadn't been. He preferred his partners on equal footing with him, eagerly participating, giving and taking pleasure. It wasn't in his nature to order someone around, to demand.

He took a long sip of his beer after Mike ordered a round for the table, watching Howie wade out into the crush and gain a circle of admiring braceleted fans who gazed up at him adoringly. He watched a bachelorette party enter, carrying themed scavenger-hunt lists and wary expressions, though a few of them were too drunk to be serious.

The man was still kneeling behind his mistress's barstool. She reached down to offer him a sip of water, and he accepted it with gratitude shining in his eyes.

Ned took another sip of his beer, and idly imagined the woman on the barstool was Nancy.

And then, in the space of a breath, the tumbler slipped into place, and he understood.

"Oh," he whispered, his throat thick.

"Oh."

Nancy damned herself several times before pushing open the door and walking into the lobby. Very little had changed, and as she strode past security without a second glance, she reminded herself savagely that she should have just sent a text message.

But the client was impatient, and she needed a detailed status report, not just whatever Ned would have rattled off over the phone.

She saw a pair of arms, stretched up, and hesitated for a second, her body quivering at the sudden stop. Then she realized he was fine.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Ned, and that darkened her mood a few shades further. Yes, he was handsome. That was undeniable. Yes, he had proven an invaluable resource, and she was glad he had agreed to work for her House.

Then he turned and saw her, and his smile lit up his own face, and she relaxed very slightly in response.

He should have been afraid. Everyone else was, and rightfully so.

"There's another computer. It's offline, not connected to anything else, so it needs to be recovered in person."

"How do you know?"

"Because it has been connected before. I found evidence of it in the logs. As recently as two weeks ago."

Nancy nodded once. "Good work," she said, looking him in the eye, and she didn't change her expression when he smiled again. "Surveillance?"

He nodded. "The most recent files are downloading now, but they're massive. I'll let you know when they're done."

She glanced over at his workstation. Two empty protein bar wrappers. She warred with herself for a moment before she sighed. "Pizza?"

He lit up. "That would be amazing. Anything but olives."

"All the meat they have, plus mushrooms."

He thanked her again, and when she saw him hesitate, like he was weighing whether he should say something to her, she excused herself and went to her private office.

When her head of security let her know that the pizza had arrived, she hesitated again before deciding to go down. Maybe the surveillance footage was almost finished downloading, after all. Maybe.

It had been a while, though, since someone had looked at her the way Ned looked at her. It was harmless, because she would never let him act on it.

But he made her think of things she knew she would never have. She was Second, she was the heir—at least, until she convinced her father to name another child instead. She didn't have the space in her life for the weight of a relationship.

But that wasn't what he wanted, not necessarily.

She saw it in an all too tantalizing flash: Ned under her, moaning as she rode him, crying out as they came together. It wasn't hard to imagine the adoration in his eyes, not when she had seen it for herself.

It could be one night, just one...

And that would be one night too many.

--

Ned had just finished his third job for her House when he asked his uncle to lunch.

The extra money meant he could afford to make it a nice place, so he did. They did an upscale brunch menu with pretentious, flowery descriptions instead of admitting the meals were variations on hash browns, eggs, and bacon.

His Uncle Jack was tall and handsome; he had worked as a mechanic at a dealership for years before being poached for a House's motor pool. Now he wore fine collared shirts and slacks on the weekends, even though Ned could still see the traces of dark grime near his fingernails as he picked up the menu.

One wrist bore his watch. The other bore a braided black leather bracelet. Three slender gold bands cinched the braid.

Ned and Jack were friendly the few times a year they saw each other, though Jack was nearly twenty years older and they weren't that close. But Ned didn't know who else to ask.

After asking about a few family members and placing their orders, they sat back and Ned took a breath. "How is she?" he asked, nodding only slightly at the bracelet.

Jack relaxed. "She's great," he said simply.

"Good."

He hadn't told anyone else, not even his friends. He hadn't been able to. And he felt like he was about to come out of his skin. Ned picked up the paper loop that had been wrapped around his silverware and toyed with it for a moment.

"What's going on?" Jack's voice was gentle, and so was his expression.

Ned didn't look up. "I've fallen for a woman," he replied quietly. "But she's not interested. And I think maybe she would be, if I..."

Jack glanced down at his bracelet when Ned made a faint gesture in that direction, then glanced back up at Ned. "If you wore the white."

Ned nodded. "I don't know if I can," he said softly.

Jack shrugged. "Maybe you can't," he replied.

"I've been to the clubs. I..."

Jack snickered. "The clubs are pageantry," he said. "Of course there are people into more extreme stuff, but it depends on her. No sane mistress would ever spring anything like that on you."

Ned relaxed slightly. "I guess I just don't know what to expect."

"And she's the only one who can tell you." Jack gave Ned a sympathetic smile. "But at least I can try to give you a few pointers.

"So tell me about her."

"She's..." Ned just shook his head, speechless for a moment. "Absolutely gorgeous, and ridiculously strong. Just, everything about her. She's... confident isn't even the word, because confidence can be misplaced. She's damn good at what she does. She's decisive and fearless." Ned glanced over at his uncle. "She's Second of her House, and she works in security and investigations. That's how we met. She did research on me and hired me to do a job for this family who obviously couldn't afford it, so it had to have been just because she wanted to do it. She bought me dinner that night, my favorite meal from a Chinese place. Without asking me first."

Jack straightened slightly.

Ned's eyebrows went up. "Does that mean something?"

"It might," Jack said. "So you work for her House? For her?"

"Per-job. I..." The NDAs didn't make exceptions for family. Ned smiled slightly. "And I shouldn't even have said that much."

Jack held his hands up, palms out. "I get it," he replied, as the waiter approached with their plates. Once they were relatively alone again, though, Jack glanced up at Ned. "And she wears the key."

Ned let out his breath in a sigh. "She doesn't, actually," he admitted, opening a packet of butter to smear on his whole-wheat toast. "I saw a man and woman wearing the white approach her at a charity auction. Separately."

"How did she react?"

"Dismissed them almost immediately."

Jack crunched thoughtfully on a crispy strip of bacon. "Then your wearing the white might result in the same thing."

There was some obstacle between the two of them. Ned just had to figure out what it was, and whether he could do anything about it. "I know she's attracted to me. I asked if there was any reason we couldn't act on it, and she said there was. She didn't elaborate."

Jack smiled. "Classic mistress," he murmured. "Yeah, everything about her makes it sound like she is that. But the key is for those who advertise, just like the white. Sounds like she's just not available to take a pet right now."

Ned tamped down a shudder on hearing that word. There was so much of it that still made him uncomfortable, especially because even if he dove into this, committed himself to it completely, he had no right to expect her to respond the way he wanted. Forces outside their control might make it impossible.

"Is she in that relationship with someone else?"

"Nothing I've found indicates that."

Jack shook his head as he picked up his fork. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'll do what I can to help you out."

Jack's pointers directed Ned to an online video that he pulled up that night.

This is insane, he thought, as his finger was poised over the selection. And it was, completely and utterly. Watching the video didn't mean he had to do anything, but the longer he thought about it, the more times he imagined it... 

He couldn't imagine being this way for anyone, for anyone else. Only her.

He took a deep breath and pressed the button.

--

Nancy knew something was going on when the security ahead of her glanced back and met eyes with another behind her. She waited for the sitrep, but neither of them provided one. So they thought they had it well in hand, and would only tell her when it became necessary.

She checked her gun, making sure it would easily clear the holster she wore, without moving her gaze or changing her expression.

Once they were in the garage, she saw the reason for their reaction: Ned Nickerson, leaning against her SUV, beside the security officer who was to be her chauffeur. "Thanks," she saw Ned say to the man before she was close enough to hear it, and then he was taking a step forward, toward her.

A rush of awareness, a hunch, had her glancing at his wrists. He wore a watch, but no bracelet. She was simultaneously disappointed and relieved.

With an effort, she made her expression neutral. Her first impulse had been to glare him down. Her chauffeur gave her a slight nod; Ned had been checked for weapons, explosives, trackers, anything suspicious, and he was clean.

"I was about to contact you. I have another job."

"I know." He actually smiled at her. "The pings to my IP go up when your staff does another check on me."

She tilted her head. "If you noticed..."

"Why not do something to stop it?" She nodded. "Because I like the money, and putting higher-level security in place might make our business relationship more complicated. And because that security would itself imply I have something to hide. I don't." He shrugged slightly. "Not from you, anyway."

"Are you so eager for more work that you decided not to wait for a message?"

His gaze locked to hers. "I was eager to see you. May I invite you to dinner?"

Her eyes narrowed.

He held up a palm. "Before you answer," he said, quietly, "you have to eat anyway. We can discuss the job. It won't be a waste of your time."

She flattened her lips into a line. "One hour," she ground out. "I'm holding you to it, Nickerson."

"I'm planning on it, Drew."

The estimated wait at the restaurant before a table would be available was forty-five minutes, until the host recognized Nancy. Then it was forty seconds, and the sommelier poured them both glasses of wine as they sat down.

"On the house."

Nancy glanced at the label and gave the slightest nod of begrudging acceptance. The wine was likely the best bottle they had, and while she hadn't planned to drink, she despised being disagreeable just because she could get away with it.

The restaurant had likely been chosen to impress her, or because it afforded at least some modicum of privacy. Three of her security staff were posted nearby, in her line of sight and earshot. The rest would be outside.

Ned had just opened his mouth when a server rushed to their table, overflowing with apologies, stumbling over himself to hand them menus and discuss the specials. The chef would be delighted to prepare something specifically for them, which one of Nancy's security staff would be tasked with overseeing and tasting before it reached their table.

Nancy handed her menu back with a nod. "My taster knows my preferences."

Ned had paled slightly, but he was calm. "Steak, medium, with sweet potato and steamed vegetables."

A panicked runner—it would have been funny, if she weren't completely accustomed to it—nearly sprinted right into their table, bearing a basket of piping-hot five-grain bread.

Once the circus was over, Nancy picked up one of the provided appetizer plates and automatically checked it. Plates were checked for any suspicious residue before they reached her, glasses tested, even silverware. Her father had never taken any chances with her safety, when he could help it.

"Is everything okay?"

Nancy nodded, glancing up into his eyes. "They would have told me if it weren't," she said casually.

"What happened when we—when you ordered take-out?"

"Two members of my staff traveled to the restaurant, personally placed the order, then watched all aspects of preparation. Then they tested each element of it. If it comes in a styrofoam container, the container itself is tested before any food comes in contact with it." She said it in flat inflection, her posture easy. "If I want a sip of this wine, the glass and its contents will be tested first."

"Shit." He barely muttered it, keeping his gaze on her.

She smiled slightly. "Yes. It's infinitely easier to eat at home."

"I can imagine." He offered her the bread, then took a piece. "The job?"

"Will involve your quitting your present one. My House would like to offer you a position."

Ned was perfectly still as she stopped speaking. "Permanent?"

She nodded. "You do good work. I had been considering this, but a rival House is about to make an offer. You're too valuable an asset to lose that way."

"Asset," he repeated softly, and glanced down. Then he met her eyes again.

"I... I'll say this once, and after... I'll never talk about it again, if you don't want me to."

Immediately wary, Nancy just gazed steadily at him, trying to keep her expression neutral.

"I'm attracted to you. Very attracted to you. The more time I spend around you, I'm just... blown away by you. I know you said..."

"No."

He nodded slowly, and she saw the flash of pain in his eyes before he made himself impassive again. "You said no," he agreed. "You said there was a reason we couldn't be together. My only question is whether there's anything I can change, personally, that would... change that reason."

"No."

He swallowed. "All right," he said quietly.

She took the bread on her plate and deftly split it in two, then ripped that piece in two and took a bite. The bread was still warm, the tender center saturated with melted butter.

"You don't wear the white." It was a statement, not a question.

"And you don't wear the key."

Her gaze whipped up to his, and she raised one hand to make a beckoning gesture. A security member, at her gesture, took her glass to be tested so she could drink from it.

"I don't have the space in my life for a pet right now. Nor am I accustomed to explaining my decisions at length."

"I neither asked nor expected you to."

Nancy's eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. Then she smiled, slightly. That smile had made security staff, villains, criminals shudder and cringe.

Ned, unmoved, buttered another piece of bread.

"You don't wear the key."

"I will never wear the key, even as a joke. I will never wear the white." He ate a bite of bread. "They are advertisements. A pet seeking a master, or a mistress. A master or mistress seeking a new pet."

She didn't bother nodding. Her gaze was locked to him.

"You aren't in the market for a pet, and I'm not in the market for a master or mistress. So I will never wear the white."

Nancy took a slow, measured breath. In the silence that stretched between them, her glass was returned to her. She picked it up and held it, swirled the wine around a little and watched it.

She didn't have time for this, for him, in her life. So her disappointment was illogical.

Then Ned's hand was on the table, near hers without touching her. She nearly jerked away from him.

But everything, every sense she had, was sure he would not hurt her. Not that way.

"This job offer your House is making," he said. "Would my answer impact whether you would consider a relationship, sexual or otherwise, with me?"

When she didn't answer immediately, Ned glanced down. "So it will," he murmured. "Damned no matter which way I go, huh."

"Your employment won't change my availability."

His thumb twitched near hers. "You may be superhuman, but you sleep and eat like the rest of us," he said. "I'll accept the offer of permanent employment with your House. I enjoy the work, but more than that, any moment I'm able to spend with you will be a gift. And one day, your schedule will change. Your life will change. And you might be able to give me a chance then."

She took a breath and held it, waiting until the turmoil calmed. "Even though you won't wear the white."

His thumb was close enough to hers that she could barely feel the warmth radiating from his skin. "I'm not here as a pet begging for a new master, any more than you're asking me to audition for it. I'm here as a man who has fallen for you. I've never been submissive in a relationship; I've never wanted to be. But when I see you, when I imagine... being submissive to you... I find myself intrigued by it. Maybe after a night together we'll find we're incompatible, but I don't think so.

"So, no. I won't wear it. Because it implies that any master could fill that role for me, and that just isn't true." He took a breath. "Just like I can guarantee you that no one you pick up at a club to be your pet for the night would be as good as I will be."

She had fantasized about this entirely too much—

She slammed that door in her head and took a sip of wine. "No master has ever trained you. I tell you I don't have time, and you make it impossible."

He smiled. "What if I told you that I'm worth waiting for? That learning exactly what you like, exactly how to make you come, sounds perfect to me. I'm a quick study."

Her clit twitched. It had been too long, definitely. "The answer is still no."

"I know," he said, nodding slowly. "I know. All I'm asking for is a chance, Nancy. A date. A little space to see if what's between us is as explosive as I think it will be. I'll do what I can to keep on your radar, so you remember me. So that when you think you might be ready, you'll know I am."

Her eyes narrowed. He had to know how he was goading her.

He leaned forward. "Just know that no matter what, even if you never call me, never return my feelings... I will always feel this way about you. I will always think you're an incredible person, someone who turned my entire world upside down. If all you can offer me is friendship, I will gladly take that. But I will always want more."

The server approached then with their meals, and Nancy was saved from having to answer, though she had no intention of responding. Her meal looked attractive, if a bit pedestrian. She had heard of a chef who, when given thirty minutes' warning instead of twenty-four hours before a high-ranking House member visited his restaurant, stormed out in the grips of a nervous breakdown.

So seeing any food in front of her was likely a win.

She had just tried the first bite when her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she pulled it out, both hoping it was a legitimate excuse for her to leave and hoping it wasn't. 

Her security team was already converging on her position. Nancy sighed, putting her fork down and tugging her napkin off her lap.

"You'll have the contract tonight. I'll expect your official answer by Monday."

Ned nodded. "Thank you for joining me. I look forward to seeing you Monday."

Her heart was beating harder as she leaned forward, staring hard at him, pitching her voice low to say it before they would definitely be overheard. "And you'd better never go to another fucking white club again."

He grinned, then pitched his voice low too. "Yes, mistress."

"Good morning!"

Nancy groaned and rolled over. "Mmmf."

"Exactly." Bess Marvin was looking down at her tablet as she rolled Nancy's breakfast cart in. "Board meeting at eight-thirty."

"Fuck." Nancy sat up and scrubbed her face with her palms. "What time is it?" she muttered, glancing at the clock beside her bed.

"Seven," Bess sang. "So where'd you go off-grid last night?"

Nancy shot her a look. Bess was all wide-eyed false innocence. "Job offer."

"That was supposed to be today."

"And now it isn't." Nancy took the first sip of her morning coffee and nearly collapsed back onto the bed. Her hair was a mess, and she wore an oversized t-shirt that was a single wash away from becoming swiss cheese. Bess wore a very fashionable black pinstripe skirt and raspberry cotton blouse, and her nails were done in flawless cream-and-gold chevron.

"Edmund Nickerson. When I read that name, I was picturing one of your charity projects. Like, maybe eighty years old, sporting patched-up tweed..."

Nancy took another sip of coffee and vanished into her walk-in closet to find the black split-collar shift dress she preferred for warm-weather board meetings.

"Imagine my surprise when I pulled up his file." Bess turned a very interested stare on Nancy as she emerged from the closet holding the dress. "I would've gone off-grid for that, too."

"What else for today?"

After a moment, Bess sighed and looked down at her tablet again. "Prime has put a meeting on the books for one o'clock."

Well. That could go any of several ways. "Report from McGinnis?"

"Mmmm. Let me check."

Nancy bolted down a croissant, a bowl of fresh fruit, and a cup of yogurt, then did a speed-run through the shower. Bess had selected an alternative to the black shift, but registered no surprise when Nancy emerged from the bathroom wearing her original choice anyway, her hair dried and combed straight. Flats, a dash of lipstick, and mascara, and she was done.

Bess sighed heavily when she saw her. "You're lucky," she sighed. "I walk out without full face on and the day's already a disaster. McGinnis says everything's fine."

"Mmmph." Nancy reached for the summerweight blazer with the reinforced holster pocket. Then Bess's tablet screen lit up with a notification, and her eyes lit up as she read it.

Nancy's eyes narrowed. "What," she growled.

"Incoming." Bess looked like she was only holding back her laughter with massive effort.

Her phone buzzed. Nancy scowled and pulled it out of her pocket, aware that Bess was watching her intently.

Good morning. I have to work a week's notice, so I'm all yours next Monday. Literally and figuratively.

"Make him sleep naked so I can get an eyeful one morning," Bess begged, then giggled as she ducked the pillow Nancy flung at her.

--

Ned dressed and groomed himself carefully that Monday morning. Thanks to his previous jobs with her House, he had been around a few other tech staff, so he wore an upscale version of what they had, khakis and a button-down. He checked out his reflection in the mirror and was pleased with what he saw. His ass looked great. He'd put in a little extra time at the gym, and it had paid off. The contrast between his broad shoulders and narrow waist was nice.

He only knew how to interact with her this way, the way he would have interacted with any other woman he was interested in. He wasn't going to make himself look lesser or cower. He wanted her to see him and immediately start reconsidering her claim that she just wasn't ready for this.

Maybe neither of them was. But that didn't seem to matter.

He had just come through HR after signing all the legal documentation covering his employment and exited the elevator when he saw her, and his entire body seemed to light up. The rest of the room could have been empty, as far as he was concerned.

He could see the slight shift in her otherwise intense expression, because he was looking for it. "Go home and pack a bag," she told him, walking into the elevator car he had just exited, and he followed her in, along with three members of her security team. "Wheels up at one."

"What kind of weather?"

A glint of appreciation lit in her eyes, and he saw it just before she looked away. "Warm," she replied. "Warmer than here. Five days' worth should get you through. Your tech will be provided."

He couldn't help smiling as he returned to his car. It wasn't as though he'd had any doubt that he'd made the right choice, but he was exhilarated. He'd be with her, around her. So what if the rest of her team was there too.

The first full day of the trip, he was settling in, getting to know people. Nancy made rapid requests, very carefully researching avenues; she had security staff ready and able to rig up security cameras and clip surveillance equipment onto data lines, to inform her of movements, to interview former coworkers and bosses. But she preferred to do as much as she could herself, as much as her security team allowed her. 

Ned and another tech, Maury Becker, took on the responsibility of tracking financials and utilities, reporting to her when they found patterns or inconsistencies. Their workstations were set up in the dining room of a fucking mansion; Ned wasn't even sure if it belonged to Nancy's House, or if she had just rented it for the job. Either way, the opulence was staggering. Ned had half-expected to crash on a twin-sized bed with another member of her staff across the room, or maybe even on the floor; instead, he had his own private bedroom with an en-suite bathroom.

If Nancy were someone else, if the circumstances were just a little different, he would have suggested that they try out the oversized shower stall, and then maybe the plush oversized bed for a few hours. But she hadn't seemed to stop since they had boarded the plane; even during the flight, she had been reading over files, making notes.

Even that had turned him on. It took all of Ned's willpower not to just gaze at her whenever he could.

After a dinner of insanely good take-out, Maury swallowed a huge yawn. "I have to crash," he muttered. "You good? Six hours okay?"

Ned blinked, focusing away from his laptop screen for the first time in... ever. "Yeah, yeah," he said, motioning Maury to leave. "I'm sure she'll crash soon too."

Maury snorted. "She can run on adrenaline for three straight days," he replied, closing his laptop. "Seriously. See you after."

Ned finished the search he was running, and when it didn't turn up anything significant, he sighed, ran his fingers through his hair, and pushed his chair back. The fridge had been stocked with plenty of caffeine, but Ned was feeling restless. He wanted to go for a run.

Instead, given how quickly Nancy might want some information, he settled on a trip to the basement gym of the mansion, and shook his head as he walked in. It was set up like a mini-exercise room at a nicer hotel, and even included a weight lifting station. Two members of Nancy's security team were there, already working out.

"Hi. I'm Ned."

A toned, muscular woman with short dark hair turned and gave him a small smile. Her face and neck glistened with sweat. "Hey. George," she called over the hushed motor of the machine she was on, hooking her thumb toward herself. Then she gestured at the other guy. "Eddie."

Ned nodded. "Can one of you spot me?"

George was putting herself through what looked like a grueling session on an elliptical machine, so Eddie came over to spot Ned while he lifted weights. The entire time, he had his phone in his pocket, just in case Nancy returned and needed something immediately.

A part of him still couldn't believe all this was real, that he was working for her, that he would be able to see her every day.

He worked through his nervous energy, until he had a high from the endorphins, then took the quickest shower possible and headed back to the main room.

Two silent members of the security team, a tall solidly-built black guy and a muscular white woman, were posted near the door. Nancy was just walking out of the kitchen with a mug in her hands, her gaze unfocused.

Ned was waiting for it, knew what would happen, but it didn't lessen it. Their gazes met and he felt electrified. He wanted so, so badly just to touch her; he wanted to kneel at her feet, gaze up at her, and feel the warmth of her approving smile.

He was a little terrified by it. He still didn't know how she was, what kind of mistress. But he desperately wanted to find out.

He nodded to her, and she nodded back.

"Do you need anything?"

She sighed. She wore a form-fitting black outfit, all the better to sneak into a place unobserved. "A sounding board," she admitted.

Ned sat down on a plush, overstuffed armchair and spread his arms, palms out.

Watching her expressions, Ned figured out quickly what she actually wanted from him, and how she was thinking. She seemed to close off when given hesitant, hedging answers; she wanted decisiveness, an analysis of consequences, creative thinking. Maybe the theft she had been called here to safeguard against had already taken place. Maybe another insurance policy had been taken out, this one through a shell company that would be harder to trace back.

It was a way to prove his worth to her, and the adrenaline rush he felt as a result rivaled what he felt after a great workout. The way she thought about things was logical to Ned, but she relished considering alternatives and anticipating unusual circumstances.

During a lull in their rapid conversation, Ned sat back, still pondering. Once Maury woke up, Ned would have go crash, and a part of him was jealous that Maury would be around her while Ned was asleep. This was exhilarating, and the high was addictive.

She was looking at him when Ned glanced over at her again, but she averted her gaze almost immediately and took another long sip of coffee.

Ned forced himself to relax. Letting her make the first move, waiting, would have been excruciating, but he had faith. Once she was ready, she would let him know.

She sighed and stood up. "I know it's late, but check on the insurance angle, as much as you can."

Ned nodded, immediately heading back toward his computer. In the glossy face of the black television screen, he saw her check out his ass, then look away.

Only once he was seated at the dining room table, in front of his computer again, did he let himself smile.

"You need to get some sleep."

Nancy knew that. Even so, she directed a look at Ned that made most people quail and apologize immediately.

But he didn't. He just gazed back at her, serene.

Every instinct had told her not to bring him along on this trip. She had plenty of other tech people, and she liked to keep a pretty regular rotation, letting them get down-time. And it wasn't like she couldn't do without them, but financials and phone records helped tremendously.

He was a pain in her ass, and every time he spoke to her, she felt her guard go up. He had learned how she took her coffee and her tea, and made them for her without asking, like he just sensed when she needed them. And while plenty of her staff could talk through clues and discoveries with her, she and Ned were just... on the same wavelength. Going over cases with him was exhilarating.

She knew she needed to get him as far away from her as possible. She knew this could only end one way: badly. But that awareness somehow made every moment like this more important.

He made her think about impossible things.

She should have just fucked him when he'd offered, and let things die a natural death. Now... the moment had passed.

"I'm fine."

"Just a few hours."

He kept his voice down, his gaze locked to her. Three members of her security staff were in the room, but for a handful of seconds at a time, she forgot they were even there.

She was so exhausted that it felt like a formless weight on her, pressing on her head, her fingers, her eyelids. She had known that pushing her own endurance so far wouldn't end well, but the job wasn't done.

And then Ned's arm was around her waist and he was guiding her toward her room.

She stiffened and Ned stopped, but he didn't drop his arm. "You'll be able to think more clearly after, and in the state you're in, you can't help anyone. Please."

She bristled, but he was right. "One hour," she ground out. "I can sleep on the couch in here. That way I'll know as soon as you find anything."

Ned growled quietly, deep in his throat. "I'll bring the laptop and I'll be in the chair beside your bed," he counter-offered. "You'll be more comfortable."

"That—" The word was cut off, swallowed by an enormous yawn. When he began to guide her forward again, she let him.

He was just a man, just one of her employees, and this meant nothing. But in the back of her mind, she was always aware of it. The way he looked at her, spoke to her, the small things he did for her... he was here not for the job, but because he wanted to be near her. Sooner or later, his persistence and his very presence were going to wear her down. And like this, she was already vulnerable.

He left her in her room with a stern look, and when he returned she had stripped down to her underwear and climbed into bed. He sat down in the plush recliner nearby, already focusing on his screen again.

Her head was spinning, and her body was already relaxing into the plush mattress. She fully intended to remind him just one hour, but before she could even form a coherent thought, she was asleep.

--

The room was pitch dark, other than Ned's laptop screen. He clicked through a few windows, checking progress, double-checking what he'd already found. Nothing new. Nothing worth interrupting her sleep for, not yet.

She was snoring quietly. She had rolled onto her side, and he could make her out only dimly, but she definitely seemed to be deeply asleep.

Ned stretched a little. If he'd brought his headphones, he would have returned to the show he was binge-watching, but he didn't want to do anything to wake her. Instead, he considered what avenues they hadn't yet explored, searches he could do that would give her more information. He hadn't yet attempted to access the city's infrastructure for surveillance footage, so he pulled up a window for that.

He was so engrossed in what he was doing that the first quiet double-tap against her door went completely unnoticed, and he only registered it when it happened again. Before he could answer, the door slowly opened and a head peeked in. George. He saw her most often in the gym; she was internal security, staying wherever Nancy was in residence.

George's expression registered very faint surprise before she made it neutral again, so quickly that Ned almost missed it. She very quietly closed the door behind her, acknowledged Ned's presence with a quick glance and a nod, and approached the bed.

Ned frowned. Whatever it was, no one here would interrupt her rest unless it was necessary.

George woke her gently, and Nancy blinked up at her, making an incoherent noise. "Prime," George said quietly.

"Mmm." Nancy cleared her throat and reached for the phone.

Ned waited a moment to see if she would dismiss him, but she didn't. He went back to the search he was executing, ignoring their conversation. He had never met her father, and something told him he should be grateful for that. Carson Drew's reputation was practically larger than life, and being his second couldn't be easy for Nancy.

Ned heard George leave the room and glanced up, then over at Nancy again. She was on her back again, one arm flung out, taking slow, barely audible breaths.

"Found anything?"

"Mmm. Looking," Ned replied. "Checking city surveillance footage."

"Might be promising." Her voice was a little rough, and she cleared her throat again, then rolled onto her side, facing him.

He glanced over at her. "Get some more rest. If I find anything worth following up, I'll wake you."

"Mmm." Her gaze was locked to his, and Ned had to force himself to respond casually instead of inching toward the bed and maybe crawling into it. Parts of him were trying to react to being alone with her in a bedroom in near-darkness, and how incredibly sexy she looked, relaxed, lashes low, and so close to him. Then she closed her eyes and shifted half onto her stomach, and he could breathe again.

He had promised to wait for her. He just had to keep reminding himself of that.

--

As they were leaving the plane, Nancy felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and checked it. Bess was calling.

Nancy sighed. This couldn't be good news. "Yes?"

"How was it?"

"Good. Mostly." Nancy was deeply disturbed by the way she was reacting to Ned, the way he had appointed himself to take care of her. As much as she wanted to be, she wasn't immune to the way he looked at her, or the tension that was still crackling between them. She had already resolved to leave him home on the next job, but whether she would stick to it was another question entirely. "What's going on?"

"Hardy's people are here. Formal dinner tonight. I need you to get here for a leg-waxing."

"I'll be in a pantsuit. Leave my legs alone."

Bess made an outraged sound. "You will not. I have something darling picked out for you."

Nancy rolled her eyes. Beside her, George chuckled. "Anything else?"

"Yep. We're gonna take you out after. It's been too long."

It really had. Nancy's House had been receiving so much traffic that she couldn't remember the last time she had just genuinely relaxed and unwound. She adored her work, it exhilarated her, but it was also stressful. "Deal."

She would need it, after tonight's dinner.

After she hung up, Nancy glanced over at George. "We're going to the club, aren't we."

George shrugged. It had to have been at least a year since she and Nancy had trawled a white club, seeking temporary pets. At least George didn't have to wait for a thorough background check before she claimed someone for a night.

And it wasn't a bad idea, honestly. Thanks to Ned's presence, Nancy had a lot of pent-up tension. She just already knew that she'd be relieving it back home tonight by herself instead of with another human being.

Especially the human being who was seated beside his father in the den when Nancy and her entourage arrived. Nancy's father was there too, along with two of her siblings, and the perimeter of the room was lined with security personnel, theirs and Hardy's. Their Houses were friendly, allied, but Nancy knew that before their arrival, every one of Hardy's staff would have been checked by her own, and vice versa. They might be friendly, but they weren't stupid.

"Nancy. It's such a pleasure to see you again." Fenton Hardy offered his hand and Nancy shook it firmly, wearing a polite smile. Then Fenton made a brief gesture to his sons.

Frank was Nancy's counterpart in his House, Second to his father. He wore neither the key nor the white, but doing so in a place like this would have been unusual anyway. He shook Nancy's hand too, and she felt the familiar spark of attraction to him, one that she had been fighting for so long she no longer really remembered why.

It would make sense, to be with Frank, in a way it would never make sense to be with Ned. A politically advantageous joining of their Houses, a connection between them that would be hard to break. She and Frank had given each other help in the past, though they were rivals on paper; their cases overlapped sometimes, and their fathers were old friends. She had come to know him and Joe well.

Nancy tilted her head slightly, that polite smile still on her face, as she released Frank's hand.

Strange. In comparison to how she felt when Ned barely brushed against her, that spark felt like almost nothing now.

And none of that was the point. As Second, her considerations were few. Any potential spouse had to be a high-ranking member of a powerful House, and their genetic profiles had to match. Frank checked both boxes. Her father approved of him. Nancy and Frank worked well together. He knew she wore the key on occasion, and had told her indirectly that she would be welcome to take carefully pre-screened pets.

They weren't in love. That was beside the point. They were attracted to each other, intrigued by each other, and that was enough.

She could have them both, if she wanted. Frank as her public husband, and Ned as her lover.

But every instinct telling her it would be dangerous to pursue that with Ned told her it wouldn't be enough. Keeping a relationship with him secret to save face... she couldn't imagine he would be comfortable with that, no matter what he said. And Nancy had never liked the idea of cheating.

Between them, it was all or nothing, and she had to make sure it remained nothing.

--

Ned checked the address one last time, then thanked the driver and paid her. The club's facade was unassuming, but a line stretched along the pavement in front. Ned swallowed and approached the bouncer, flashing his House identification and passing over the door charge, and was allowed in without a second glance.

Once he was inside, Ned scanned the crowd. The lights overhead were strobing and constantly moving, and the floor was a crush of bodies, a din of laughter and shouts and throbbing bass. He spotted the VIP section and began to move toward it without being too obvious. The message had specified that he fit in for some kind of undercover work, and he was dressed just a little better than most of the patrons of the club, in a dark-charcoal shirt and a new pair of tailored pants.

Then he saw her, and just like that, his focus was on her alone.

The Nancy he knew, the Nancy he saw almost every day now, wore conservative outfits and pulled her hair back. She was clever, thoughtful, decisive; once she decided on a course of action, she was ruthless in her pursuit of those who had wronged or attempted to cheat her clients.

The woman he saw tonight wore a long-sleeved backless black metallic dress that showed off her long, shapely legs and her narrow waist. Her lipstick was a wicked shade of red, and her fingernails matched. When she turned, her hips moving to the beat, Ned swallowed. The fabric dipped so low in the back that he was almost certain he could tell she was wearing a thong.

If this was her cover, for whatever they were doing tonight... he couldn't wait to see what else she had planned.

He worked his way through the crowd, and when he had almost closed the distance between them, she turned and her gaze locked to his. Her lips parted in surprise—

Ned's brow furrowed slightly.

Then she closed her mouth and cast a furious glare toward the blonde woman beside her, who just shrugged and smiled. Ned saw with a flash of surprise that the other girl with her was George, but maybe George was undercover too. She wore a flame-red dress that made her look like a million bucks. The blonde was in a tight white dress that shimmered where the light hit it, and she looked bubbly and fun. Before he'd met Nancy, the blonde was the kind of girl he would have chatted up and likely invited home with him.

She smiled up at Ned. "Nice to meet you," she called over the music. "Ned, right?"

He nodded and smiled back briefly, then turned toward Nancy again.

Nancy shook her head, disgusted, and came toward Ned. "What are you doing here?"

"I—A message. Said to come here at once for a case."

She shook her head, her hips still swaying a little to the beat. "Bitch," she muttered.

"Was there a misunderstanding?"

Nancy shook her head and brought her hands up, gathering her hair to pull it off her neck. She gazed up at him, and Ned realized suddenly that she was more than a little drunk.

Apparently the blonde had engineered this. Ned silently promised to send her a thank-you gift.

"Want to dance?"

Nancy frowned. "You said you love to dance."

"I do."

"All right."

His adrenaline had been up when he arrived, but it was up for a different reason now. He hadn't been sure what to expect, but this kind of environment was familiar, and they were surrounded by her security, who had to be going crazy at the crush of people around her. This place would be impossible to secure. Someone could walk by and brush against her with something otherwise innocuous that had been weaponized somehow, and that would be it. At least George was close by.

But Ned looked down into Nancy's eyes as they moved toward each other, and his heart began to pound. She wore makeup tonight, and it only seemed to emphasize her beauty and power. She didn't look soft, sweet, innocent. She looked incredible.

Ned's palm brushed her bare back, and the tension between them rose almost unbearably, jolting them both. If they had been alone, God... God.

This was so dangerous.

He had to wait for her. He had to wait for her to be okay with this, to make the first move, and not while she was drunk.

"God," she muttered, gazing up at him. They were close, too close, and if they danced any closer she would be able to feel how aroused he was.

And why did that matter? She knew he was attracted to her, and he knew she was attracted to him. A dozen times before this, they'd both known: a locked gaze that lingered too long, a moment between them that one or both of them had intentionally chosen to break. Of course he'd thought about her, about situations not entirely unlike this, while alone and relieving the tension himself. He was hard-pressed to remember the last time he had fantasized about anyone else.

She generally wore flats, but in heels...

She gazed up at him, and the moment lingered, and his fingertips trailed along her bare spine. This was too much to bear. It...

She took a step closer to him, sliding her arms up over his shoulders, pressing her body against his. Her belly pressed against his erection.

She didn't move away. She didn't recoil or react in disgust.

Ned wrapped her in his arms and lost himself in the moment. They were swaying together to the beat, but the world around them had totally fallen away.

And then she was stretching up toward him. Her hand slid into his hair.

He obeyed her with a sigh, tipping his head down, and their lips met.

And Ned's world shifted as he finally realized he was home.

"Good morning."

Nancy was sitting at the foot of her bed, on the carpet, hugging her knees. No matter how many times she scrubbed her face or what she used to do it, she could feel the faint grittiness of eyeliner residue. The old t-shirt she wore had been washed so thin that it was almost transparent in places.

She looked up at Bess. Through experience Nancy knew that even though she had put no expression on her face, she likely looked angry.

Bess slowed her steps, then sat down beside Nancy on the carpet. She looked almost perfect, nearly as flawless as usual, but Nancy could see the fine signs of it. She looked like she had slept poorly, but there was no way she had slept as badly as Nancy had.

"I'm sorry."

Nancy sighed. "It was going to happen. Last night or some other time." She shrugged.

"Still."

"It's fine. I'd been putting this off. You've given me a reason to pull the trigger on it."

Nancy had drafted the letter terminating Ned's employment with her House; she had read over it several times, until each word was no longer a shock, until she was almost comfortable with it.

She had let him fool himself; she had hurt herself, too. There was no future for them. She could offer him nothing. She needed to end this cleanly, free him to pursue other opportunities, and...

She was never going to marry, and the enormity of what could be between them was threatening to drown her. She had never reacted that way from even a single kiss. She rarely backed down from a challenge, but this one... it was beyond her experience, beyond her endurance.

Nancy didn't have the time or space in her life for a partner. Were she to agree to marry Frank to formalize the alliance between their Houses, Frank would be both more and less than a partner, a public face, another asset, but one who would make no emotional claim on her. He definitely would be able to help her; of that she had no doubt.

She didn't need feelings. She definitely didn't need feelings. But here they were.

"Don't," Bess said quietly.

Nancy glanced over at her. "It's for the best," she replied. "You can—" She choked on the words and made herself continue. "You can pursue him, if you want. But this was never going to work."

"Not with that attitude, it won't."

Nancy frowned.

"I shouldn't have sprung that on you. I take full responsibility for that." Bess held up a hand. "But seeing you two last night... I've never seen you like that with anyone."

"Exactly."

"Which is exactly why you shouldn't just run as far and fast as you can in the opposite direction." Bess leaned forward slightly, searching Nancy's eyes. "I'm not saying you need someone. I've never met anyone more independent and strong-willed than you in my entire life. But he's not just some random guy in the club you could take home, bang, and write off. And I think maybe that's the point."

"That's inappropriate conduct with an employee."

Bess snorted. "Yeah, and him being beside your bed while you sleep is appropriate."

Nancy's eyes narrowed.

"What? Did you think George wouldn't tell me? We've had a bet going for a month now, and she opened that door thinking she was about to win it."

"That's..." Nancy shook her head, rendered speechless.

"He's sweet, he's damned hot," Bess ticked off on her fingers, "and... just, breathtakingly hot. He has to be smart if he's one of your tech guys."

"The best," Nancy muttered. "Hands down."

Bess made an encouraging gesture. "So why not go for it?"

Nancy forced herself to take a breath and let it out slowly. "I don't have space in my life for a partner right now."

Bess tipped her foot back and forth for a moment, considering. "Is that the way you see him?" she asked quietly.

"Sometimes you meet someone and know that whatever happens, good or bad, it's going to be intense. He called it explosive. Holding back this long has been hard, and I'm being unfair to him."

Bess nodded in acknowledgement, then paused again before saying, "You said 'partner.' Do you mean...?" She made a brief gesture.

Nancy nodded. "He's said he's intrigued by the idea."

"So he's never?"

Nancy shook her head.

Bess's eyes lit up. "Tell me that doesn't turn you on," she said eagerly. "Oh my God, him? He wants to be submissive to you when he's never done that before?"

The corners of Nancy's lips turned up slightly. He had never called anyone else "master" or "mistress;" the few times he had called her that, even teasingly, she had definitely reacted. "Yes."

Bess raised an eyebrow. "Tell me again why not."

"I don't have time for a relationship."

"This gorgeous man is interested in being your sex toy and you're just..." Bess raised her hands in exasperation. "Okay. Has he, or has he not, come along on all your trips lately?"

"He has. I was intending to leave him behind on the next one."

"Uh-huh," Bess said flatly. "You have meals with him. He hangs out in the room while you sleep."

"That was one time."

Bess gave her another look. "He knows you," she pointed out. "He's been around you long enough to see how dedicated you are to your work and how much you love it, and he hasn't asked you to change who you are. I'm just saying... give him a chance to prove you wrong." She paused. "I mean, yeah. I remember how things went with Sasha. And Don. But Ned isn't them."

Nancy made a noncommittal noise and glanced away.

"All right. Time to get hydrated and shower. Brunch meeting at nine."

Nancy groaned and rubbed her face. "God," she muttered.

Bess climbed to her feet and offered Nancy a hand up. After she rose to her full height, Bess tipped her chin up and looked Nancy in the eye.

"I think, every time, you've given less of yourself," she said quietly. "And I think a good guy can sense that. Show him who you are, Nan. Show him all of you. And when he doesn't run away or freak out, maybe you'll finally see how good it can be."

"To train a man who's never been a pet." Nancy was trying to sound dismissive, and failing.

"Yeah. No preconceived notions of how it should be. He's a blank slate, willing to be filled with... you. I'm not even into that, and it sounds super hot to me."

Nancy rolled her eyes. "Almost everything sounds super hot to you."

Bess gave an indelicate snort. "Look, I'm excited for you. Just give him a chance. For me. And for the money I bet on it..."

Nancy snatched a pillow from her bed and Bess dashed away, laughing.

--

What I said stands. I'll be here when you're ready.

Moving so carefully didn't come easily to Ned, especially after that night. It was all he could do to refrain from pouring his heart out to her, but he didn't want to scare her away. Especially if she had been more drunk than he'd known, if she was embarrassed about what had happened or if she just wanted to pretend it hadn't happened at all.

They hadn't left the dance floor, but they had kissed, God, so many times. Her hand in his hair, gripping it and keeping him where she could reach him. His palm stroking against her bare back and stopping a little lower each time, though he never quite found the nerve to hook his thumb in the elastic of her likely tiny panties. Being kissed by her, experiencing how effortlessly she commanded their all too brief intimacy... he was more intrigued than ever, and now, two full days later, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

She hadn't answered his message or even acknowledged receiving it. She probably wanted to forget the whole thing.

But Ned burned for her. Enduring the rest of the weekend without any sign from her was torture. After being near her but separated from her for so long, he was desperate for anything. An embrace. God, another kiss.

Another few hours at her bedside, longing for her to turn to him and beckon him.

He'd had it bad before. This... he was desperate not to screw it up. He just had no idea what to do.

When Ned walked into work on Monday morning, he knew he looked great. He hadn't agonized over his appearance, but he had spent some time picking out the right outfit and doing his hair. He knew that the second he and Nancy saw each other, he would want to come out of his skin with longing, and they couldn't just crash into each other and start making out again. But he desperately wanted something: some sign, some hint. A small, subtle smile, or a lingering gaze. Just to let him know that she had enjoyed it too, that he wasn't crazy.

She took two or three members of the tech staff with her on her cases, and since his hiring, Ned had always been one of them. He had expected that to always be the case.

But three of them were missing, leaving Ned with Maury.

Ned had to force himself to speak past the lump in his throat as Maury walked in with a cup of coffee. "They're gone?"

Maury nodded. "We got a pass."

He hoped that wasn't the answer he had been looking for, but he had a terrible feeling it was.

Ned ran the search he had been considering all weekend, ever since he had met her, and within ten minutes of the invitation, the blonde had accepted. Bess Marvin, Nancy Drew's personal social secretary and stylist. Ned's eyebrows had gone up when he read those words. Before Friday night, he wouldn't have imagined that she had a stylist, but if Bess was the person to thank for Nancy's outfit that night, she deserved him to buy her lunch and much, much more.

"Edmund Nickerson," Bess greeted him, sweeping him in a slow, appreciative gaze. "It's a genuine pleasure to meet you."

"Elizabeth Marvin."

"Bess. Call me Bess." She giggled when he pulled her chair out for her. "Thanks, sweetie."

Once the waiter had taken their orders and delivered their drinks, Bess leaned forward. "All right, tell me all about you."

Ned's eyebrow flicked up. "What is it that you don't know?"

"How would I know?" Bess parried with a grin. "Why did you invite me to lunch today?"

"To talk about Friday night, for a start."

Bess sobered slightly. "I apologize for the subterfuge. I didn't quite understand the situation, and I definitely didn't want to make either of you uncomfortable. So I'm sorry about that."

"No... I guess I wanted to thank you. And you're her stylist. You picked out that killer outfit?"

Bess beamed. "When I can actually get her to wear what I've picked out and full face, she fucking slays, doesn't she. Thanks, babydoll."

Ned smiled. "Don't misunderstand," he said. "She's absolutely gorgeous in general. But it was definitely nice to have her... a little closer to my height."

"And in a dress that let you put your hands all over her back," Bess replied, her gaze steady on him.

Ned glanced down. He still didn't know how she felt about what had happened between them, and if she had been displeased, he didn't want to continue remembering it so fondly. "And that," he replied quietly.

Bess was quiet for a moment. "Do you know where she is right now?"

Ned shook his head, looking back up at her.

"She's on a case, which I'm sure you figured out, and the Hardy Second and his brother are with her. If you wanted, you would've been able to figure that out, right?"

Ned paused, then admitted she was right with a nod. He was very, very familiar with the security and the limitations of her House system, and had been able to find almost any information he wanted. Some of it was kept under physical lock and key, on paper and nowhere else, and that he wasn't going to touch. Based on hints he had seen, he knew that security officers occasionally followed him and other House staff around, doubtless making sure they were safe—both from the threats posed by other Houses, and safe for the House to continue to employ. He had been through the weekly wellness screenings and understood them for what they were: making sure that Ned—along with everyone else on the team—wasn't deliberately or inadvertently delivering some biological agent that could hurt any member of the House.

"Are they together?" It would explain so much about her reluctance.

Bess's lips quirked. "Not that way. It's open knowledge that Prime—our Prime—and their Prime are old friends, and there's a kind of understanding between them. If the Seconds were to marry, that would kind of cement things."

"But she's not engaged?" Ned hated how anxious he was to hear the answer to that question.

Bess shook her head. "She has no intention of getting married."

It wasn't that he necessarily wanted that with her. He was so starved for her that any attention was intoxicating. Maybe what was between them would burn brightly, consume itself, and flame out. But he didn't think so.

At least he wasn't competing with another man for her attention. He'd seen how she threw herself into her cases. She had little time or energy for anything beyond that.

"Do you know... how she reacted to what happened Friday night? I sent her a message, and..." He shrugged.

Bess gave him an apologetic smile. "If she hasn't talked to you about it, then I can't, either. I'm sorry. She and I have been best friends for a long, long time."

Ned smiled, though his heart was sinking. "I'm glad she has a loyal friend."

"Me too." Bess searched his face. "You seem really sweet. If I have an opportunity, I'll put in a good word for you." She pointed a finger at him. "Just don't make me regret it."

Nancy's reply to his message came later that night, when he was just falling asleep, when she was likely waking.

I remember.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

--

The letter dismissing Ned was still in her drafts, but during the flight back, Nancy gazed out on the clouds and considered.

Ned was willing to call her out when he felt she needed it. He was unfailingly polite and conscientious without being overbearing or cloying. He had his own life, but he was a strong asset to her House and her personal investigations. He had been devoted to her for months now, never failing or flagging, never becoming distracted by someone else.

Nancy blocked the next step in her mind and just focused on this one.

Would he remain strong, after? Could he?

And if things went badly between them...

Nancy didn't allow herself to continue that thought. 

Joe, seated beside his brother, snorted and woke. Frank smiled indulgently beside him. Joe could fall asleep anywhere. Nancy felt like she could easily sleep the rest of the day after their return.

But first.

Are you available tonight?

--

He knew where the city-based House compound was, of course, even though he had never been inside. It was several floors, on prime real estate, set apart enough to provide a defensible perimeter. This was where the House Prime and Nancy lived. As Ned understood it, Carson's second wife and her children generally occupied a compound in the country, the suburbs. Ned hadn't found much about her during a cursory search. Nancy was Second, and the feminine public face. Her younger half-siblings were minors, and given how ruthless conflicts between Houses could be, Ned couldn't blame Carson for keeping them out of public view.

Ned passed through a security checkpoint, and even his House ID badge wasn't enough; the guard called someone else and received explicit permission for Ned to enter, after his car had been thoroughly searched and pronounced clean. Then he proceeded into the garage level. A fleet of security vehicles, all the same model, all the same glossy black, were parked facing out, ready for rapid response. The red lights of security cameras silently gazed out at the brightly-lit space. Ned parked where he had been directed and passed to the next gate.

Ned went through the same process there, passing through a scanner and waiting while the officer scrutinized the image. Then he was allowed access to the elevator.

Security was good. Entry points could be choked off relatively easily, and he saw few places where the cameras wouldn't overlap.

Bess was waiting for him with a grin, and Ned relaxed slightly as he smiled back. "She's waiting for you. If you'll come this way..."

He wasn't expecting a tour, but he couldn't help taking it all in. He'd never been anywhere like it before. Up here, all the décor was modern and tasteful, the floors hardwood spread with plush rugs. He saw one unshaded window, and realized the slight warp in the view likely meant the glass was reinforced, probably bulletproof.

How strange, to have all the spontaneity taken out of life because one false move could mean death.

Finally Bess opened a door, and Ned saw Nancy. She wore a soft dress of deep blue-green, and she didn't smile when she saw him. Bess murmured something, and once Ned was in the room, she closed the door behind him.

They were at the top of the building, and the view was unparalleled. Even so, Ned couldn't keep his gaze from her for long. She gestured for him to take a seat at a small table that had been set for two. A plush conversation set faced the other way, toward a small fireplace. This was a room for intimate entertaining.

"Drink?"

"Water." He saw her take a step toward a sweating carafe set up on a side table and held up his hand. "I'll get it. Please, sit down."

She hesitated for a second, but let him do it. He saw an almost-empty wine glass at her place when he brought his own glass to the table.

Then he saw the key, and he felt at once exhilarated and anxious.

It was at least two inches long, and old-fashioned, like a skeleton key with an elaborate design for a bow. It had been threaded onto a long necklace. Nancy wasn't wearing it, but it was beside her plate, where he was meant to see it.

His gaze went from the key to her face.

Her lashes were low as a slow, knowing smile spread over her face. "Steak, baked potato, roasted asparagus for dinner. Does that sound all right?"

Ned nodded slowly. "I think I will take a glass of wine."

That, he let her pour. His mind was still racing. She wasn't wearing the key. Maybe that would be the only thing she was wearing when—

He tried to pace himself, but he downed half the glass of wine as soon as she handed it to him.

"It should just be a minute. Stuffed mushrooms to start, and I'm sure those will be hot out of the oven. Dessert's a surprise." He saw a teasing glint in her eye that he had only seen hints of when they had first met, and rarely since then. Working cases with her meant seeing her on, laser-focused and serious, and he hadn't seen much of her relaxing. Even that encounter at the club Friday night, she hadn't been what he would have described as playful. More like consciously, deliberately unwinding from a grinding tension, hastening the oblivion with alcohol.

"Sounds wonderful."

She wasn't posturing. She didn't need to. The bold, sexy makeup from Friday night was entirely gone, and if anything, she might have been wearing a touch of mascara. She wasn't hiding herself behind pretense; she shared what she wanted to share, didn't discuss what she didn't, and that was it.

He would have given almost anything to be in her confidence, to know her better.

Thirty seconds later, two staff members entered with trays. Nancy thanked them with a smile, and Ned knew he shouldn't have been surprised, but his steak was cooked to the perfect temperature when he cut into it.

She knew everything about him. Did she know how he fantasized about her? Were there cameras in his apartment, tracking all that he did, filtering through security personnel to give her detailed reports of his behavior, his preferences, his likes and dislikes? The thought was both a little flattering and hugely unnerving.

"How was your trip?" Ned asked, trying to slow himself down. His dinner was amazing. He just couldn't wait to see what "dessert" meant.

Nancy shrugged. "Once we were finally able to record some evidence, it was great. Otherwise, frustrating. I didn't tap you for the team to give you some recovery time; I've been using you a lot."

Ned managed to swallow his bite without choking on it, which took a superhuman level of skill, and dampened his reaction to just a faint twitch of his eyebrows.

"But I wished you were there. I'll have to check with you next time. If you're ever in need of a break, just let me know."

Ned nodded. "I'm always happy to be with you." He glanced up and their gazes met. "Mistress."

She liked hearing him call her that. Her lashes lowered, then lazily rose. "I'm delighted to hear it."

Dessert was an absolutely decadent chocolate cake. As it was announced, Ned wondered if she'd gone so far as to contact his mother for the recipe, but this one was different, and just as incredible. The wine had relaxed him and the cake had him lazily satisfied, as she indicated he should join her on the plush, overstuffed loveseat, positioned to take advantage of the view.

It looked out the lights of the city, although he could tell that the glass had been modified to allow them to see out but no one to see in, no providing possible sniper targets. Ned looked out on it, serene. Whatever was going to happen tonight was in her hands, and that was fine with him. She had made this move, and he was waiting to see what might come next.

They sat in silence for a time, and then she brought the wine bottle to refill their glasses. Ned took a sip and gazed over at her, marveling all over again at how absolutely gorgeous she was.

"This is just a conversation," she began, her voice low and almost husky. "If at any point you wish to stop, or leave, just say so."

He nodded, holding her gaze.

"What do you know, about the relationship between a mistress and her pet?"

If he'd been sober, he likely would have frozen. Instead, he took a small sip of wine, considering where to start. "That it depends entirely on the mistress, in every possible sense," he replied. "Some mistresses, or masters, keep several pets. But the mistress dictates whether the relationship is exclusive or not."

She nodded her encouragement, still gazing at him. "What else?"

He thought back to his visit to the white clubs, and decided not to mention them specifically, but he swallowed. "For some, the dynamic in the relationship is expressed through humiliation and degradation."

"For some," she agreed. "Some take the label 'pet' a bit too far, I feel. A mistress who demands humiliating acts from her pet is revealing her own weakness."

A very deep tension in Ned released. "Some... express their care through acts. Sometimes a mistress might provide a pet with... what he needs. Food... or clothes, or shelter. It's an offer. A way of letting a pet know... he's wanted."

Nancy took another sip of wine without responding, but she didn't have to. Jack had been right about that. Ned sat back and waited. The video he had watched, on Jack's recommendation, had been both enlightening and maddeningly general. He wouldn't know what it would mean to have Nancy as his mistress unless she took him as a pet. Her preferences, her needs, would determine everything.

"Hypothetically," she said, glancing over at him, "if you had to choose, would you choose a relationship over working for my House?"

"If you mean a relationship with you, yes," he replied. "I can work for other Houses. There's only one you."

She smiled slightly. "Generally it would be considered a conflict of interest," she commented. "A problem of power dynamics. Hypothetically, I could make advances toward you, and you would feel some pressure to accept them."

"Hypothetically," he agreed. "But I could also, for instance, reassure you that my feelings about you haven't changed. I could say that being with you Friday night was incredible, but still didn't fulfill my proposition that we go on a real date. I could comment that despite how fucking sexy your dress was, it was still more than I wanted to see you wearing."

She shifted. Her slight smile had vanished. "A mistress's pleasure, particularly sexual, is all that matters. Her pet's needs are to be considered a distant second, if at all." She searched his eyes. "Some of my previous pets have not understood that. A worthy pet is strong. He has a life outside his mistress, and in that life he may never be submissive. But in his relationship with her, he is entirely focused on her needs and her pleasure. And when the mistress and the pet are compatible, the pet's desire is matched and fulfilled by providing that pleasure."

Ned nodded slowly. "And do you derive pleasure from pain, mistress?" His voice was very quiet.

She shook her head. "I'm neither sadistic nor masochistic, and any pet of mine who derived gratification from pain in any sense would find no satisfaction with me." She paused. "Save that a pet is expected to master himself and his control to keep from climaxing prematurely."

Ned inclined his head slightly. "As any considerate partner would."

Again, he saw that very small smile, a hunger in her gaze. "You are very sure of yourself," she murmured. "A mistress might enjoy a protracted session of oral sex, for example."

Ned couldn't help it; his cock twitched at the thought. "Performed by a skilled pet."

"Always. Through time, practice, and observation, her pet would eventually read his mistress perfectly. I heard, recently, that a submissive man could be referred to as his mistress's personal sex toy. That may sometimes be accurate."

Ned's erection had heard enough, and was encouraging him to find out what, if anything, she was wearing under her dress. His gaze on her was hungry. "For you, that would be an honor," he said, and then looked into her eyes.

Her hand tightened into a fist, which she then deliberately relaxed. "It's not in my nature to... well." She stopped and shook her head, glancing away from him and then meeting his gaze again. "I am a jealous mistress. I have kept multiple pets in the past, but I have little time to entertain the thought of even one. You and I have spent a lot of time together. I would ask for more, even. The dynamic of our relationship would change significantly." She tilted her head. "If you are, indeed, a quick study. If what develops between us is satisfactory to us both."

He held her gaze. "I have no doubt in that. Are you asking for more, Nancy?"

She searched his eyes, then took another sip of wine. "Not yet," she said quietly.

"If I offer..."

She shook her head. "You don't know what you're offering," she replied. "Not yet."

Ned tamped down his rising frustration with supreme effort. He had to wait for her decision; he had known that all along. But he was also very, very interested in helping her make the right one, and quickly. When he saw her, especially the way he was seeing her tonight, the pull to her was incredibly strong.

He moved a little closer to her. "Thank you, mistress," he said, and saw that expression of pleasure on her face again, the relaxing, the lazy blink. The small, immediate smile. "For considering me. I want you so much."

She held his gaze, searching his eyes, and the tension between them grew thick. To him, it was unbearable. He knew he'd have to excuse himself before he did something, before he just grabbed her and kissed her, to hell with the consequences. God.

And then she was moving toward him slowly, all but daring him to break. He was spellbound. She cupped his cheek, stroked her thumb against his skin, moved a little closer. Ned's heart was pounding so loudly she had to hear it.

Then their lips met.

All the panic fell away, washed away by desire for her. Maybe tonight was an audition, and maybe everything he did and said mattered, but she knew him. They had spent a lot of time together. And he thought that part of what she hadn't quite said was that if he sacrificed who he was to pursue a relationship with her, it would never materialize. He needed to be strong enough, confident enough in his own skin, to be an acceptable partner to her.

So he slid his arm around her as her tongue traced his lower lip, then dipped into his mouth. They both tasted like wine and chocolate, and soon their kiss was hungry, less tentative and more passionate. Her fingers were in his hair.

Ned gasped when she slid a knee over his lap to straddle him.

"Fuck," she breathed as her hips brushed against his. "How big are you?"

"Seven and a half inches," he replied, breathless.

She moaned, sounding frustrated, and then kissed him again. Her skin was so warm under the fabric of her dress, and he caught a handful, molding it even more tightly to her flesh. Then she nuzzled against his neck, gently bit the flesh under his ear, and his heart pounded so hard it choked him as he slid his hand under the hem of her dress, resting his palm against her thigh. She didn't push him away, so he pulled her more tightly against him, so her hips were nestled snug against his.

She was rubbing herself against him. She wanted him.

They kissed again and again. He felt her hands snake down between them and arched so she could easily reach his fly. Everywhere she brushed against him, everywhere they were in contact, was incredibly sensitized. If she had been anyone else, he would have grabbed the side of her panties and pulled them down, then tossed her onto the couch on her back and crawled up her body, pushing her dress up as he went, pinning her under him as she wrapped those long, slender legs around him...

"Mmm." She closed her eyes, panting quietly, with her hands on the waistband of his pants. He was ridiculously hard, and more than ready for this. He would just follow her lead.

Then she opened her eyes again. "This is definitely inappropriate," she said quietly, and slid off his lap.

Ned made a wounded, pleading noise. "What," he began, gazing up at her, every muscle tensed.

"Thank you for joining me for dinner. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable."

"You didn't." Ned gazed up at her, naked agony written on his face. "Well. Not more than the obvious. It's not inappropriate. How could it be, if we both want it?"

She looked so calm, almost completely recovered, and Ned was a wreck. He'd give anything to pull her down to him again, to feel her mouth against his, the weight of her as she pressed him against the couch. Anything. God.

"Thank you," she repeated, holding his gaze for a long moment. Then she reached for her phone and tapped out a message, and Ned tried to focus on calming himself down, as impossible as that seemed.

Maybe his instinct that tonight was a version of a test wasn't far off. Did he have control, mastery of himself? Could she trust him to obey her, even if obeying her meant... this?

They both heard a tap at the door, and then Bess appeared. She took in the tableau at a glance and gave Ned a smile. "If you'll follow me?"

Ned stood, slowly. "I'll see you in the morning."

She nodded. "Good night."

"Good night. Thank you for..." He trailed off with an expansive gesture that she could have interpreted however she wished. She nodded again, and after a few more seconds of gazing into Nancy's eyes, Ned turned and followed Bess.

Bess coughed once, gently, once she and Ned were alone in the corridor. "Bathroom," she remarked, gesturing to a doorway.

"God, thank you," Ned replied fervently, vanishing inside.

Nancy was naked under the sheets and bleary-eyed, yawning as she rolled over and patted her nightstand. With a grunt of satisfaction she found her phone, jerked the charger cord out of it, and held it in front of her face.

Like you didn't already know my dick size.

Nancy coughed back a chuckle of surprise. She replied with a single character, ?, and laughed to herself as she rolled over.

You already know everything else about me. I'm surprised you didn't have someone come to my apartment, mildly sedate me, and whip out a ruler.

I wasn't asking about when you were flaccid.

Touché.

Bess was chortling as she opened the door to Nancy's room and slipped inside right after her alarm went off. "And a very good morning to you."

Bess received Nancy's messages, sometimes even before Nancy herself did. Her job was hard enough without those kinds of surprises, so it had just seemed easier to set it up that way.

But sometimes, on mornings like this, Nancy wasted a minute or two reconsidering that decision.

"Seven and a half."

Bess pressed a palm over her heart. "And he was ready to give you every single inch and a half of it last night," she replied gleefully, vanishing into Nancy's closet.

That hadn't escaped her notice. She hadn't fantasized about him after he'd left, while she was relieving the tension herself, but... he hadn't been all that far from her thoughts, either.

Nancy compromised with Bess, and wore a comfortable blue dress paired with a necklace of flat turquoise disks. Bess knew Nancy's taste, and knew that most items in her wardrobe had to allow for ease of movement, in case she found herself pursuing a suspect. She was faintly amused to find that her heart was beating just a little harder as she approached her dedicated space in the downtown office, where her support staff worked on her cases.

"Good morning," Ned said when they saw each other for the first time, after. For everyone else this was a normal day, and Nancy searched Ned's eyes, looking for hurt, cynicism, mocking. She found none of it.

Only hunger.

"Good morning," she replied. Then Maury approached her, and she was at once relieved and disappointed to turn her attention away from Ned.

What did she want from him? And what could she have?

Because she believed him. What was between them would be passionate, but that could go either way. If things went badly, they probably wouldn't be able to work together anymore. And he was damned good at what he did.

And if things went well...

Nancy thanked Maury and headed to her own office, glancing down at her phone as she did. She was far too accustomed to measuring the risks and benefits, the consequences and rewards.

She had cracked open the door last night, and she had to decide whether to let it swing fully open or slam it shut again. Having sex with Ned would change the dynamics of their relationship permanently. And she had decided a long time ago that people she met during her investigations were fair game, but she had no right to express interest in anyone working for her. It would be too hard for the person to say no, and any consent would always be tainted by that knowledge.

But he had told her as many times as she had asked, and more, that he was willing, that he wanted her to consider him. That he could work somewhere else if he had to, but he wanted to be with her.

Still. She closed her eyes briefly. He didn't know what he was offering.

She pulled up her email and went through it. She'd had to discipline herself about working, although when she was on a case, all bets were off. She lived, breathed, slept, and ate clues, evidence, speculation, surveillance. Her duties to her father and her House superseded that. While she was off the clock, she had to remain off the clock.

To have him there, by her side, to grow accustomed to his presence and his support...

Almost everything in her rebelled at the idea. Nancy had worked very hard—not to make a name for herself, not for status or notoriety, not for a career. In fact, the opposite served her far better. She was seeing plenty of work thanks to word of mouth from other clients who vouched for her capabilities. But she had worked so hard to be self-sufficient.

Mostly because she'd had to be. Her mother had died when she was very young, and her father had been the young Prime of their House, a role that kept him away from her often. By the time his second wife had come into their lives, Nancy had been used to caring for herself. She wasn't a burden on anyone, and she was glad. She didn't need anyone.

Maybe the key had always just been a natural next step. Being able to control every aspect of a relationship meant she could minimize hurt, that she could walk away when things were too serious.

Bess had commented once that when a man became too fascinated by her, Nancy went as far as she could in the other direction. Her perfect mate would be someone who could treat her casually, who invested just enough in the relationship to keep it going, but no more.

And for a time, Nancy had thought she was right. The intoxication of devotion, of being with a partner she held in something not entirely unlike thrall, was heady, but the pleasure was fleeting. Don, Sasha... God. Every now and then Sasha sent her another message, lovelorn, heartbroken, telling her that he adored her, he would worship her, give her everything she wanted...

What I want is to never hear from you again seemed a bit too callous to put in a reply.

She had resigned herself to either nothing or a loveless relationship, marrying someone like Frank who had the right social connections but who wouldn't interfere with any important aspect of her life.

Now, though...

She heard a brief tap at the door and glanced at her phone.

Ned.

Nancy closed her eyes briefly. "Come in," she called, hoping her voice sounded neutral enough.

Her heart sped up a little when she saw him. God, he looked incredible. And he was untamed. It shouldn't have been as fucking alluring as it was.

"We need to talk about a more robust collaboration system. What's in place is workable, but there are better options available."

Nancy smiled slightly. "Do you mean this in a literal, or a figurative sense?"

"Literal," he replied, with his own broad smile. "But I'd be happy to take the discussion in another direction once we've explored the first way."

Nancy sat back and folded her arms. "The previous head of your department privileged equipment over software cost. I think I recall her saying that any programmer worth her salt didn't need bells and whistles to get the job done, just more RAM and a better processor. So." She opened a hand. "Enlighten me."

As it turned out, Ned had already done research on the topic and could rattle off the pros and cons of three alternatives, providing his own recommendation and the informal opinion of the other members of his department's staff. Nancy wasn't surprised at how thorough he was, but she did gaze at him with more than a touch of fondness once his presentation was finished. She wasn't trying to kid herself, she loved being around him and seeing him, but this version of him, animated and passionate... Yes. This version of him was very appealing.

"I'm impressed," she told him quietly, after he had fallen quiet, and a quite literal glow seemed to suffuse him. "And pleased. Why exactly were you, the newest hire, tapped to deliver this message if everyone else in the department agrees with it?"

Ned held her gaze. "They seem to think you might just have a certain fondness for me."

Nancy narrowed her eyes. "Oh, do they."

"Denying the request would just prove it."

At that, she actually did chuckle. "In my zeal to prove I don't feel any special fondness for you, I might overshoot and protest a hair too much. Well, your argument is reasonable, by any standards. Bring me itemized cost estimates and I'll approve it."

Ned nodded, and then she saw him relax slightly. "Do you have a ruler, mistress?"

She held his gaze. "I just might. Under my dress."

Ned's hand clenched into a fist.

Nancy rose and went to the door of her office, pulling it open. "Once I get confirmation, I'll let everyone know, but we're likely heading out tomorrow. You'll be on the team this time. Make sure you get some rest."

He nodded and stood, accepting the dismissal for what it was. As he strode out of her office, he passed a little closer to her than propriety dictated.

And altogether too much of her tingled in response.

--

If Ned had known that Parker would give up on trying to get any sleep and relieve him at three a.m., he definitely wouldn't have downed that last can of soda.

After a fruitless twenty minutes, he slid out of bed and stepped into his boxers. The curtains had been closed tight, and he pushed them apart.

His second-story room looked out over the ocean. The beach was nearly pitch black below, and while he could hear the waves crashing onto the sand, he could only make out the suggestion of movement, the moonlight reflecting off the rippling surface of the water. Maybe tomorrow, maybe during that lull between the case's conclusion and the trip back home, he could go for a walk on the beach. He had seen the ocean before, but it was still a marvel, still rare enough to fascinate him.

Nancy was here, with him. On the estate, in this house. Somewhere.

He bowed his head, trying to banish the thought, trying to focus on anything else, but it had become more impossible with each passing day. He wanted her, and she wanted him. Relationships were more complicated than that, but the intensity of his need was enough to banish the rest of it, even if it was just for a little while.

He finally sighed and pulled out his phone.

Twenty minutes later, he had decided she wasn't coming or that she was out following a lead and was cursing himself for a fool when he heard a very quiet tap at his door. His heart immediately began to pound.

"Come in."

The door swung open a few inches, silently. Ned was sitting on the bed, still wearing only his boxers, and when Nancy's gaze met his, he held it. She didn't say anything, but she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She wore what passed for casual while she was traveling for cases: soft black pants and a close-fitting tank top, her hair pulled back. She also looked tired. Dismay dampened his delight at seeing her.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." She waved a hand, dismissing it. She didn't look angry or cold, so he was inclined to believe her. "Couldn't sleep?"

He shook his head and stood. "No. Couldn't stop thinking about... well, a lot of things."

She nodded and just gazed back at him. She was always so incredibly comfortable in her own skin, so confident in any situation. She was...

She was everything. That's all there was to it. She was everything.

"Hypothetically," he began, and oh, oh God, his heart was pounding all over again. He took a step closer to her. "If a man were... to offer himself, as your pet. He would..."

He had couched it to give himself room to escape, just as she had during that quasi-date. Still. They both knew what they were doing, even if they had agreed to abide by the rules of the meaningless game.

Ned dropped to his knees before her.

She closed her eyes and opened them again, lazily. He could see desire there, and based on what had happened, he didn't think he was imagining it.

"Mistress."

She licked her lips. "Were a man offering himself as my pet, yes, he could fall to his knees before me," she murmured. Then she swallowed. "With his cheek against my leg. Like the obedient creature he was promising to be."

Ned gazed up at her. A part of him had known all along that it would come to this, despite her supposed beliefs about humiliation and degradation. He no longer saw this that way, though. He did want her, so much. If she wanted him on his knees, as long as she would reward him for it with her presence, her touch, or anything beyond that, he would do it.

He began to move forward, but Nancy held up a hand to stop him. "I have no interest in taking a pet," she said. "But if I did... he would wear the black."

Ned paled.

Nancy smiled slightly. "Which isn't what you had in mind," she commented. She didn't sound angry or upset; she was just stating a fact she had already accepted.

He sat down and stretched his legs out. "I have very little in mind beyond you," he said simply.

She held his gaze for a moment, then crossed to an overstuffed armchair positioned near the large window. He turned to face her, intentionally relaxing as much as he could.

What happened between them was in her hands; it always had been, and always would be. All he could do was demonstrate his willingness.

"I've understood for a long time... that I'd likely be encouraged to marry to form an alliance with another House. It would be a political move, almost certainly nothing more."

Ned nodded slowly. He had gathered as much from his conversation with Bess, but it still seemed like a dream, disconnected from Ned.

"Frank has indicated to me that I could privately keep a pet."

The black wasn't private, though. Nancy would know that far better than Ned. He just kept silent, still gazing at her.

"He and I are attracted to each other, so I wouldn't necessarily need to do that." She paused. "But we were only speaking of hypotheticals, weren't we," she said slowly, searching his eyes.

"Yes, mistress."

"Hypothetically, I could marry him and keep another man to fulfill my sexual desires. Their spheres would never touch." She frowned slightly. "Hypothetically the idea of that arrangement is repugnant. I believe our friendship is enough of an alliance in itself." She paused. "Hypothetically."

He just gazed at her. He hated everything about what she was saying, and he wanted to argue with her. He wanted desperately to argue with her. But he didn't know enough about what she was expected to do, and it was her life, not his.

And she was still here, talking to him, in the small hours. The last thing he could do was drive her away.

She rubbed her face.

He kept his voice soft and even. "Bess told me you have no intention of marrying."

Nancy smiled, and it was dangerous. "Did she," she murmured.

"Please..."

Nancy waved her hand. "I don't. That's true. I've taken plenty of pets. Some for a single night, some for longer. I'm tired of it. Providing that level of support is draining." She looked directly at him again. "Hypothetically, the man who wears the black for me will be strong, but still able to submit to me. Frank is not that man."

"But he doesn't have to be," Ned realized slowly.

"And asking a man to wear the black but be unable to acknowledge our relationship..."

"Is an oxymoron."

She nodded. "If I never marry, then it won't matter."

Ned took a deep breath and moved so he was nearly at her feet, then looked up at her from his seat on the floor. "Why are you telling me this," he said quietly.

"Because I want you," she said. "It's irresponsible and inappropriate. You'll never wear the black for me, and to be brutally honest, you have no House and no social capital to offer a relationship. There is no future for us."

Ned's throat tightened unbearably, and he fought hard to regain any equilibrium at all. "Then why are you here right now," he forced out, his voice hoarse. As much as it hurt, he couldn't stop gazing up at her.

Her smile was sad. "Because you called for me," she murmured. "Because despite all that, I find I can't just walk away. It's all or nothing for us, isn't it? And it will have to be nothing."

His voice, once it came, was still hoarse. "If that is what you wish, mistress."

She blinked lazily again. Her eyes were gleaming. In the pale bars of moonlight, she looked cold as marble, just as untouchable.

She had already broken his heart. He had nothing left to lose.

He moved toward her again, and she didn't say or do anything to stop him. He gently moved her knees apart and put his face between her legs, breathing in the scent of her, the muskiness of her arousal. She drew a sharp breath and he turned his face against her thigh, nuzzling against it.

After a moment, he felt her fingers in his hair, combing through it in a steady, reassuring stroke. She wasn't pushing him away.

"If the world were going to end tonight," he said, and kissed her thigh through the thin, soft fabric. "Would you let me comfort you, mistress?"

She moaned quietly. "Edmund," she whispered, and for a moment he didn't understand. When he glanced up at her face, he saw a tenderness there, along with the sadness.

"We can't promise each other tomorrow. We never could." Slowly he slid his arms around her hips and drew her forward, and she allowed him to do it, parting her legs wide. He remembered how she had ground herself against him, and when pressed the heel of his hand firmly against her crotch, he was rewarded by the jolt of her hips as she reacted to the stimulation.

"But I'm yours, no matter what. Everything else is just details."

She slid forward the last inch and off the edge of the seat, onto his lap. Ned gasped in surprise, and then her mouth was hot against his, slick and desperate.

She bucked and he obeyed her, easing backward to lie prone under her as she straddled him. She was aggressive and unapologetic, and he loved it. He loved that no matter what she had said, what she believed, this was the only truth that really mattered.

She broke their kiss and moaned again, a rough sound of frustration and need, and then she yanked her shirt over her head and kissed him again. The shock of her bared breasts against his chest made them both gasp, and the pressure of her hips against his, the join of her thighs pressed against his erection, rocking and grinding, goddamn.

"Mine," she growled.

Something seemed to break inside him, something he had been holding so carefully, and he clung to her. He needed to get her pants off. He needed to know how it would feel for her to slowly sheathe him, to hold him inside her. One of his hands came up to press between her shoulder blades, to trace his fingers over her skin, while his other hand snaked between them to cover her breast. His thumb brushed her nipple and she bucked against him in reply.

Her tongue was sliding against his, teasing him.

Every inch, every vulnerability, was a gift a mistress gave her pet. Ned was greedy for all of it, for everything, but he had been starved for her for so long that just knowing she wanted him was humbling.

She could have anyone.

But no one else knew her the way he did.

Her palm had slid between his bare hip and the elastic of his boxers, their mouths still joined in a hungry kiss, his thumb brushing back and forth over her nipple, when they both heard a muted, angry buzz. Nancy froze, then shuddered. She pushed herself up onto her knees and reached into her pocket, and Ned gazed at her breasts in wonder.

"Yes."

He was close enough to hear the other side of the conversation. "We'll need to go on-site. The backups are stored offline."

She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "I'll be there in five," she replied, her voice even and firm.

Ned stifled his groan of disappointment. Whatever had been about to happen, this had clearly derailed it.

Nancy snagged her discarded shirt and tugged it back on as she got to her feet, then offered him a hand up. "Get some rest," she said, and her mask was almost entirely back in place.

"This isn't over."

She stood on her tiptoes and gave him one last hard kiss. "It is for now," she replied, and left without looking back.

Nancy didn't come to Ned.

Ned held a long internal debate before he went to her. She was conflicted over this, had told him point-blank that they couldn't have a relationship, that there would never be anything formal or long-term. And he knew that, very deep inside, where he hardly wanted to acknowledge it, a tiny part of him thought he could change her mind. He could be perfect, for her. He could give her everything she wanted, and once she realized how amazing it was to be with him...

And that was where his vague imagining stopped, from necessity. If there could be no future for them, then he just wanted the present.

He had fallen so disastrously, so completely in love with her. It was no longer a question of a single night together, a taste or a tryout. He'd had enough of a taste to know he was addicted. Those all too brief interludes had only whetted his appetite.

And while he was still unsure of what, exactly, being with her would mean, it didn't change his mind. So she was aggressive; he found that intriguing.

The first night of their next non-local case, practically as soon as Maury said he would take the first night shift and sent Ned to get some rest, Ned pulled out his phone.

Can I see you?

Her answer was almost immediate. A development?

His smile was bittersweet. Of course that was the first thought she'd have, of some progress on the case. No. Personal.

That reply took longer. Yes.

George was standing outside Nancy's door. Ned approached, keeping his expression impassive, even though his heart was pounding. "She's expecting me," he said, hoping he sounded normal.

George just smiled in a way that would have made Ned blush, if he were prone to do so, and opened the door.

Nancy was seated in an armchair, a lamp casting warm light over her severe black outfit and tight ponytail. Her laptop was open, and a notebook was open on the table beside her.

She glanced up at him, unsmiling. Nothing about her seemed welcoming. "Yes?"

He stopped a few feet away from her, then held her gaze as he lowered himself to his knees.

Nancy frowned. Her hands slid off the keyboard and fell motionless.

"If you don't want me here, I'll go." He didn't make any movement toward her. It wasn't that he thought she would be afraid of him, or feel threatened by him; he'd read extensively about her cases, and had even accompanied her into the field for a few of them now. She carried a gun at times, confidently. She walked, or more often ran, straight into situations that would have sent most people screaming in the other direction. She didn't ask anyone on her team to do anything that she wouldn't do herself. Ned respected the hell out of her for that.

But what was between them was always on her terms, at her decision. His coming here was a breach of that, but he craved being in her presence, feeling her gaze on him, all of it.

She put her laptop on the table beside her and crossed her arms as she returned her gaze to him. A few times he thought she was about to speak, but she remained silent.

Maybe she couldn't tell him yes, but she also couldn't tell him no.

He moved closer to her, watching her carefully. "Am I interrupting? Do you want me to go?"

She pressed her lips together. The tension between them was only building, and he sensed that he just had to wait her out. She would convince herself, when there was no way he could.

And then the futility of that hit him. If this was so hard for her, why was he pushing it? Why put her in this situation, if she wasn't wholeheartedly in favor? Her silence didn't mean she accepted.

He got to his feet slowly. A part of him was hoping she would interrupt him, tell him to wait, but she didn't say anything. "I'm sorry for bothering you," he said. "I just... I thought maybe it was my place to come to you, not the other way around."

"It is," she said quietly. "And I know I'm sending mixed messages."

He nodded. He wanted to fill the silence, to give her reasons or excuses, but she was strong and capable of doing that all by herself. He waited, but she didn't add anything.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said.

She raised her eyebrows. That old haughtiness was back. She was miles above any attempt he could possibly make at hurting her. She was in no way vulnerable to him, and had no intention of becoming so. How could he have ever believed...

Then he blinked.

You don't know what you're offering.

More that he didn't know how to offer it. If she wanted someone who was, who would be, entirely submissive to her, he was failing utterly. He was here on his own initiative, without her summons. He was here setting his own terms, because he didn't trust her to set any within his personal timeframe.

"I don't understand anything," he said softly. "Do I."

She shook her head, then stood, gazing up at him steadily. "When you do this," she said, her voice low and clear, firm, as she took a step toward him, "you demonstrate that you aren't ready. I don't want to train a pet, and you have no idea how to obey."

Ned wanted to speak, very much, but he held his tongue as she approached him. She eyed him speculatively, her gaze lingering on his crotch before she brought her head up and looked him in the eye again. "I could," she said, her tone still impersonal, "ask you to strip naked and lie down so I could fuck you. Do you understand that this is how this works? Your only concern is my pleasure, not yours. Never your own. And yet here you are."

Ned took a breath, reached for the collar of his shirt, and tugged it over his head.

Nancy swallowed, and he saw the flash of hunger in her eyes.

"My only concern is your pleasure, mistress. Please. Tell me how to please you."

At her side, her hand clenched into a fist and released.

He reached for his fly and hastily toed out of his shoes as he unfastened his slacks, pushing them down. Once he was down to his underwear, he lowered himself to his knees again, this time directly at her feet. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her leg.

She didn't step away.

And then her hand slowly combed through his hair.

--

Ned was asleep in her bed. His bare chest was cast in shadow, but she could still make it out, could remember the feel of taut skin over hard muscle. Bess would enjoy seeing him this way, no doubt. If that ever happened.

Nancy rubbed a palm over her face, then went into her bathroom. Her reflection showed an almost haggard face, low-lidded eyes. She needed to get some sleep. She would be able to think more clearly in the morning. And that was part of what scared her.

She should have sent Ned away. Now... 

And it wasn't like anything much had actually happened. Yes, she had kissed him, several times, but she had managed to leave her clothes on. She had explained the rules to him very patiently, and had him demonstrate. If he were to approach her bed, offering himself, he would kneel at the foot. If he wished to offer something more specific than just his willingness... she had told him those signals too, and he had demonstrated each one with desire simmering in his eyes.

If he were her pet, she might give him the shelter of her bed.

But she didn't sleep beside her pets. At the apartment she kept in the city for just that purpose—which Bess, quasi-jokingly, referred to as her "boudoir"—her chosen pet had a separate bedroom. To sleep beside someone, to be physically vulnerable all night... she had no interest in that. Neither did her security staff.

In the remote event that she married, her husband would have a separate bedroom. Of that she had absolutely no doubt.

And yet. There Ned was, asleep in her bed.

Nancy didn't do cuddling or spooning. She had a very straightforward approach to sex; once it was over, she left. At her apartment, Ned would have been in that separate bedroom—

No. No, he wouldn't have, because she would never have let things get this far. She invited guests to the apartment for exactly one purpose, her sexual gratification; they weren't allowed inside her family compound as she had invited Ned in, inside the bubble of their security forces. She especially didn't flaunt them in front of her father, who was content to remain agnostic about it. She had invited Ned to the compound specifically because she hadn't intended things to get this far. And yet.

And it was strange to think of it that way. God, yes, she had been aroused, but that didn't mean anything. He was handsome, muscular, incredibly gorgeous. If she had been selecting a pet just on appearance alone, he would have been the first one on her list.

But he had feelings for her. When any other man had admitted feelings for her, anything beyond sexual attraction, she had been the first to cut things off and walk away. Instead, regardless of her own resolve, she kept being drawn into him. With every passing day, their proximity and her growing familiarity with him became more of a liability. She shouldn't care about hurting his feelings; she had never lied to him, had been brutally honest with him. And then, as soon as she had been able, she had told him how to signal he was offering to go down on her.

Because that was entirely innocent.

He was innocent, and she was taking advantage of him.

God, she was a fool.

I'm yours. No matter what.

She gathered her laptop and notes, then glanced over at him. He had shifted, and almost his entire bare back was visible. 

For half a second, she wavered. She could just sleep in her clothes, beside him. It wouldn't be so bad. Nothing would happen.

Just like the nothing that kept happening.

She gave her head a brisk shake and walked to the door, closing it quietly behind her. George raised an eyebrow, but remained otherwise impassive.

"Don't say a damn word," she muttered, and ignored the quiet snicker she heard as George fell into step behind her.

--

"And where are you back from this time, Cancun?"

Ned smiled. "Plead the fifth," he replied, pounding Dave on the back in a greeting hug. "Is that where the honeymoon will be?"

Dave grinned. "How'd you guess?"

Dave and Kaitlin's wedding was going to be as non-traditional as possible—outside the exchange of vows happening via snorkel inside an aquarium, anyway—but they were still observing some of the common rituals. Dave had never been big on strip clubs, so they were spending his bachelor party at a borrowed apartment in Chicago.

"Apartment." The place was probably bigger than the house Ned's parents still lived in. It belonged to a guy who had married into a House, and he and his wife used it for entertaining. The main living area was all overstuffed furniture in butter-soft black leather, a sleek entertainment center with a television that was almost too large to watch comfortably, open to a chef's kitchen with spotless stone countertops. A large felt card table and a pool table occupied the other half, and the whole thing had been set like a stage. The lighting fixtures were in the perfect position for them.

"Can I get you something? We've got beer, wine, the hard stuff, some mixers. I think Paul was about to mix up a pitcher of Tom Collins."

Ned opted for an obscenely expensive scotch to go with a glass of water. He sipped it as the guys ripped open bags of chips and cartons of dip, laughing and joking as they pulled out decks of cards and poker chips. The large television set was on, tuned to sports, a cable station playing random popular movies, a music station once or twice.

And Ned was relaxed, for the first time in what felt like a very long time.

It had been hard. During the last case, he had wanted to go to her so much that the pain of denying himself was visceral. But this was what she wanted. If everything had to be on her terms, then he would live with that.

He just hadn't thought it would take this long. He had never been stuck in limbo with anyone for this long—and with anyone else, he would have walked away a long time ago. He could have found someone else with minimal effort. But that person would never have been her.

A few of the guys asked if he had a current girlfriend, and Ned just answered with a small smile and "It's complicated." He couldn't imagine Nancy ever identifying herself as someone's girlfriend, and he also knew what kind of tabs she was keeping on his life. They weren't special to him; he had become friends with Maury, and found out that everyone on the team was under some surveillance, just to protect them and the House from anything that might happen. He doubted any of the guys at the bachelor party were secretly spies.

But he couldn't be entirely sure.

Ned had known it would happen, but all the events of the wedding weekend, even down to the extremely low-key backyard marriage made him think of Nancy. It was bittersweet. This wasn't in their future.

When Dave looked over at Kaitlin, he glowed with happiness and pride, and she glowed too. The celebration of their union was just one big party, and there was no preappointed time for the ceremony. Kaitlin just detached from the group she was talking to and headed over to Dave, taking his hand. The officiant joined them, and together the happy couple shouted over the din of the crowd, laughingly demanding quiet. The ceremony itself was incredibly short, their vows original and sweetly charming. The guests around them erupted with cheers, laughter, and shouts of congratulations as Dave kissed his new wife for the first time.

As much as he wanted to imagine it, he just couldn't. Nancy was carefully controlled and—

Well. Most of the time she was. Her discipline was amazing. But he had seen her on cases, too, had seen her make incredibly quick decisions and judgements, had seen her take logical leaps that left him stunned. He just hadn't seen that spontaneity any other time. He had seen her fight herself so, so hard where he was concerned.

All the more reason to wait, as painful as it was.

"So. Will you be planning one of these soon?" Howie settled into the chair beside Ned, a fresh drink in his hand.

Ned smiled slightly and shook his head. "Not anytime soon," he replied.

"That complicated, huh."

He shrugged. Thinking about it when they weren't in the same room, talking about it, made his throat ache.

Howie looked out over the crowd. "I'm sure you could find someone here to help take your mind off it," he pointed out, then took a sip of his drink.

"Probably," Ned agreed, and didn't move.

Howie gave him a sympathetic smile. "This has been going on a while, hasn't it?"

Longer than Howie knew. Ned gave a little nod, trying to think about anything else.

"I don't think it's ever taken you this long to close, Nickerson."

It hadn't, not by a long shot. He would think he was losing his touch, but this wasn't like that or about that. "I guess it just does when it's worth it," he said, then rose to find his own drink.

There had been a time that Ned could have walked away.

Not anymore.

--

Ned started leaving her presents.

Based on where they were, her security staff had to be working with him, and Nancy had her money on George being the primary culprit. She found the small packages and notes on her seat in her car, her desk. Even, once, propped up on her pillow.

A stupid, irrational part of her had reacted with frustration. He was her pet; she was theoretically supposed to be giving him presents.

But that was wrong. He wasn't hers. She had in no way claimed him. Their relationship wasn't at that level.

So he had taken it in his own hands, almost as a way to remind her of what they could have had.

Bess thought it was sweet, and it was also what a man pursuing a possible partner would do, but his gifts weren't what she expected: the tired, cliché chocolates, roses, frivolous presents meant for temporary sensual pleasure. Instead, Ned found small, practical, thoughtful things. She mentioned, in passing, preferring one of Chopin's nocturnes; a few days later, Ned gave her a recording of it she had never heard before that brought tears to her eyes. After a bout of insomnia, his next present was a specially curated tea that had to be one of the best blends she had ever tasted, and it had worked to help relax her. He noticed when things irritated her, inconvenienced her, frustrated her, but not enough for her to do enough about it.

And he didn't repeat his mistake. He didn't ask if he could come to her. 

Oh, he didn't waste opportunities when they found themselves alone; he spoke to her as a friend, someone who cared about her, and his gaze on her was always hungry, burning. At the faintest sign from her, he would fall to his knees and offer himself. Of that, she had no doubt.

I could have this. I could have him.

And train him for another mistress, since there was no future in it. Teach him all the rules until he was perfectly obedient, and then release him to find someone else. And he would. Holy shit, he would. Even now, he should have found someone else.

He had sworn he would never wear the white, and she believed him.

A night won't hurt anything.

Nancy shrugged her shoulders, irritated, then pushed her chair back and stood up. They were abroad, working on a missing persons case, and those always left her on edge. All too often, they ended badly, delivering devastating news to a client who had thought he or she was already prepared for the worst. Oh, her success rate was a little better than average, but that wasn't enough.

She rubbed her neck, gaze unfocused as she considered.

If he was available, she could just go to him for a brainstorming session, use him as a sounding board. He had already come up with some innovative suggestions on how to use surveillance in the area to help.

But she was just grasping at straws, and she knew it. If they were alone right now, she would do something foolish. He would think that circumstances had changed, and she couldn't allow that, not for either of them. The best way to keep from breaking both their hearts was to just stay away from him.

And yet, even after everything, he still seemed to want to be her friend. And yet, even after everything, she hadn't brought herself to terminate his contract and the excuse to see him.

Are you awake?

The message was sent before she had time to second-guess her decision, but her heart was pounding as the seconds ticked by without any answer.

Yes.

In your room?

I can meet you there.

She knew what the right answer was, but she gave her reflection a quick glance and headed out anyway. At her door, she stopped, closed her eyes briefly, then gave George an order.

Nancy watched, scowling, as George fought to keep her expression impassive, giving Nancy a nod.

"I'm just being thorough."

George nodded again. Her eyes were dancing.

Nancy flipped her off.

The staff could, and practically had, run the tests in their sleep. They took very little time. Ned was only delayed for a few minutes, but when he walked into his assigned room, his eyebrows were up.

Then he saw Nancy sitting in the armchair near his bed, her legs crossed.

Their gazes locked. Ned cleared his throat, took two steps toward her, then sank to his knees.

The motion was fluid. He had such strength, such control of himself.

A few weeks ago, he would have spoken. He would have asked her why he'd just endured another random spot-check test of his saliva and urine, along with his semen. Tonight, though, he just waited.

"Thank you for the gifts."

"They are the smallest token of what you deserve."

She took a long, slow breath. "You deserve a true partner."

He didn't answer. He just gazed at her.

If they did this, they would share a few nights together. He would forget himself in the passion of the moment and displease her. She would fire him. He would find work at another House. That would be the end of it.

That would force an end to it. He would become like Don, like Sasha. Earning her contempt with every pleading message.

Why was she fooling herself, that this could be any other way?

"Why do you kneel?"

He tilted his head slightly. He was choosing to make himself submissive to her. She would have trouble besting him in a physical match, even though she trained hard and had taken on bigger opponents. He was confident and sure of himself, and secure in his own abilities. He might never have called himself dominant, but he took command easily.

He would be a terrible fit. It would never work.

"Because you wish it."

It had never worked before, not for long, with men who were naturally submissive. Men who worshiped her.

And what kind of monster did it make her, that for a brief, overwhelming moment, she wanted to break him? That she savored the mental image of him willingly giving himself over to her, swearing allegiance to her, devoting himself to her pleasure? She wanted to ride him until he was begging her for release—and she wanted to teach him to hold it in, bite his tongue, and wait. To master himself in the hopes of pleasing her.

She didn't have the time for this. She was setting herself up for utter disappointment. All the resources her House had spent on him, wasted. All the potential good he could do with her, evaporated. Just so she could devastate him and discard him.

He would leave. He would grow tired of her mixed signals and take one of the offers another House had extended. He would marry some sweet adoring woman and have a family. He would have what he was meant to have, a life she could never offer him.

He could only be her secret. None would wear the black for her.

Ned still waited on his knees. He hadn't moved toward her. He hadn't moved much at all. He just gazed at her.

And then her gaze caught his, and he lowered his head, gazing at the floor.

A fierce, furious impulse brought her to her feet. Physical pain, humiliation, those weren't her, but—well, what she was imagining wasn't sex, wasn't crossing the damn line. She could consider it part of his training.

Even though she had no intention of training him. Not now, not ever.

She crossed the few steps to him and slid her hand into his hair, combing through it a few times. "Come with me," she murmured.

Nancy barely registered that George was standing guard outside her room as she guided Ned into it, her fingers briefly laced with his; then she released him, glancing around the room. She found the armchair and pushed it close to the foot of the bed, then gestured for him to sit down in it.

She reached for her shirt and tugged it over her head. Fuck it. She would have done this anyway. Now she just had an audience.

She stripped completely, tossed the covers back, and pulled out the drawer in the bedside table. She didn't look over to see if Ned was watching; she knew he was, as she pulled out a foil-wrapped condom and a bottle of lube, then her preferred toy.

Just shy of seven and a half inches.

She stretched out on the bed and opened her bent legs wide.

"I'm going to show you what I like," she told him, her voice low. "Watch closely. Pay attention to what I'm doing. You... you may be asked to duplicate the experience to the best of your ability."

Ned nodded, and then Nancy reached for the toy.

"You honor me, mistress. I don't deserve this. Should you ask me, I will try so hard to please you."

She rolled the condom on. "Yes. Yes, you will."

If the pattern held…

Ned tipped back the mug of coffee and grimaced at finding the last sip lukewarm. His mind still on potential additional searches he could run, he carried his mug to the kitchen.

The sink was overflowing. The staffer who usually handled cooking and food preparation during trips had returned early due to a family emergency, and the team had been living on fast food, convenience meals, and coffee.

Ned rinsed out his mug and, practically on autopilot, checked the dishwasher. It was full of clean dishes.

He unloaded it, his mind elsewhere, and loaded it again. Once it was washing the next load, Ned belatedly remembered that he needed more coffee, but his stomach rumbled. Food first.

The pantry was loaded with cans of soup, wrapped sandwich crackers, chips and snack cakes. Quick food, easy to grab and eat one-handed.

A brief triumphant cry from the other room. Maybe some surveillance footage had finally proven useful.

He could order out. A stack of grease-flecked pizza boxes near the trash can showed how popular that option had been.

How long had he been here? He checked his watch. Had to be at least five days.

Once Nancy was stuck on the case, or for that brief time after it was over, he would be summoned to provide samples, and then she would… show him. Four times now, she had pleasured herself in front of him, and he had paid rapt attention.

The demonstrations were hot as hell. He would never refuse to watch them. And given how things were going, how their activity was an open secret in the House, he had gone to the House clinic last week.

He'd heard about it. On the outside, if it was available, no one talked about it. But they offered a shot to either partner to prevent conception.

Were they hurtling toward that choice?

If they weren't, why the demonstrations? Why bring him to her room? They had ended up on the floor together before, her shirt off and her mouth fused to his, a while ago. They had been interrupted, and it hadn't been repeated yet, but he had faith it might happen again.

She could have shut him out, fired him, reassigned him. As he had learned what she needed, he had stopped intruding on her. He reassured her of his availability, her perpetual presence in his thoughts, as often as he could, but left the decision to her. For him, the calculation was simple; for her, it was infinitely complex, and she had far more to lose. He had everything to gain.

To someone more cynical, she was his meal ticket, the key—literally and figuratively—to a life of privilege, ease, and comfort. She could afford to casually triple the salary he had made before joining her House. The work was immersive, all-consuming, but he was good at it.

And if another possible partner from another House propositioned him, offering him marriage, security, and wealth, so powerful that alliances no longer needed to be considered for their strategic potential—he would turn it down flat.

She didn't refuse or return his gifts. None of them were thoughtless or generic.

Half his mind was on what he was doing as he filled a pot of water to boil and lined up a bottle of Alfredo sauce, a box of frozen spinach, a bottle of sun-dried tomatoes—a simple dinner he had made for himself, before her, when he had wanted something that would make easy leftovers for work meals. He set the timer for the boiling pasta by voice command, considering. He found a strainer and a stack of plates.

He barely noticed the security staff member in the corner watching. When he dished it out, the other support team members had materialized, some teasing Ned about his newfound domesticity before commenting on how long it had been since they had real food like this.

Then he looked down and realized there was enough for one serving left, and he hadn't served a plate for himself.

He looked up and saw George standing there.

He dished up the serving. "For her, if she wants it."

The security staff member, Andey, because it was protocol, tested it. She had watched the entire preparation, but none of them cut corners where Nancy's safety was concerned. Then it was taken to Nancy.

Ned went through the pantry again. A bag of rice. He found what he needed for that.

There had to be something he hadn't considered.

Rice, canned red beans, some turkey sausage that was still good. Ned was slowly coming back to himself as he browned the sausage, drained the beans, and stirred it all together. He offered a bowl to Andey, who smiled and accepted it.

George took a bowl, too. "This is her job," George told Ned quietly.

Ned raised his eyebrows as he stirred his own bowl. A plume of steam rose from the hot rice.

"To feed you."

"Because of what's between us?"

George nodded, forking up a bite and pausing to let it cool a bit.

Ned shook his head. "I'm a member of the team. This is for all of us."

George acknowledged that with a slight nod. "I didn't say it made sense. Providing for you…"

Ned clenched his jaw and waited for the anger to pass. "If that were her intention, that's fine," he replied. "But she's been very clear that we aren't together and can't be. For reasons too complex for me to fully understand. Her spouse needs status. I have none. She's off limits. She can't have it both ways."

They ate silently for a while. George sighed. "I can't imagine it's all that easy for you to change who you are."

"It's not." He forked up another bite and considered it. "But in a way, I'm not changing anything. How can I?"

"You want to treat her as your equal."

He shook his head and smiled, humorlessly. "She is Second of a House," he said, his cadence almost singsong. "Her world is unimaginable. I have computers. I have the respect and confidence of the rest of the team, and I've earned it, but she's so far above me. And she's so afraid to let me know her. To let me in."

George shook her head, swallowing a bite of rice. "If she's decided that she only wants to train a pet for the long haul, and that she doesn't want to do that right now, then it's not you. It's just so much. A perfectly suited pet..." George shivered.

Ned smiled slightly. "Why the presumption that I wouldn't want to learn everything I could about her, given the time?"

"I..." George shrugged. "Previous experience. She can't just write you a manual. She wants you so attuned to her that a single touch or sound would correct you, if needed. And that takes a lot."

Ned gazed steadily at George. "So she wants that with me. She does."

George glanced down, clearly fighting with herself. Ned was reminded of how reluctant Bess had been to share during that lunch date. "Only she can tell you that. But I can definitely tell you that the mistress provides for the pet, in whatever ways make the most sense, and the most obvious way is food."

"She fed me. During my first job."

George smiled. "And I'm sure that, just like you, she would have claimed it was in the context of working together."

Ned forked up the last bite and sat back. In the back of his mind, he was still puzzling through the problem his team was working on. In the front of his mind... God. He just wanted to see her.

"I didn't understand," he admitted. "Not at first. And not with anyone else, definitely. She's fascinating and so ridiculously strong, so disciplined. I'm still amazed that she looked twice at me."

"I think everyone here feels that way. Maybe not to that degree. But we make a difference for people, and that... that really feels like it means something."

After his shift, Ned went for a run with another member of the security staff who was also off shift. He normally did this when he was able, when the surroundings allowed it—scoping out nearby restaurants and stores, taking in the scenery. He had never traveled so much in his life, as he did while working for her House.

It ate at him; he couldn't deny that. There was nothing he could say or do differently. So he waited, and tried to act like everything was normal, when he wasn't fooling anyone.

At their borrowed house, Ned took a shower, changed into lightweight clothes, and went back to the kitchen, checking in on the work on his way. Some progress had been made, but it was starting to feel like a dead end. They needed some other angle to work.

Nancy directed their activity. She had also curated the team and valued their insights and suggestions.

Maybe that was the whiplash. They were more equal in their professional roles, even though they would never be on equal footing.

He refilled his water bottle and was considering whether they would be here long enough for him to possibly make a grocery list, when Nancy came into the kitchen, mid-conversation. Mostly she was listening, with a slight frown.

She hung up with a sigh. "Reinterview tomorrow," she muttered.

Ned just nodded. Often he found himself treading lightly around her, feeling oddly as though he were both trying not to startle or upset her, and trying to draw just enough of her attention to keep her interested. Both the observer and the observed.

Mixed signals. That hadn't been an exaggeration.

She met his gaze. The instant jolt of connection, of mutual attraction, hit him. "Take a walk with me?"

By itself the request wasn't unusual. Every member of the team did it. She wanted to talk through something.

But, he had learned, he was by far her favorite sounding board. Whatever complicated feelings she had for him sexually, this rapport between them was valued.

As they walked, her security staff faded from Ned's awareness, leaving only her and this. Not her as Second, not her as powerful and unyielding. This was Nancy at what he considered her best, her most genuine self, when she was happiest, talking through clues and details, hoping to stumble upon a lead or the solution.

He would never willingly take this from her. He would never give up this role in her life without pushing back. And while he burned for her—God, he knew how absolutely unhinged it seemed, but a part of him chafed at the reluctance and delay before they gave in to their attraction to each other—he almost would have given it up forever if it guaranteed he would never have to give this up.

They made a different circuit than his run had followed, barely paying attention to anything beyond their conversation, looping back around. A few ideas would have to wait for regular business hours, and she hated waiting.

They were nearly at the door when he reached for her hand. She stopped, and their gazes met.

Like a punch to the gut, every time.

"Thanks for the pasta. I meant to say that earlier."

He smiled. The joy her comment evoked in him was so intense it hurt. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

She searched his eyes, then closed the distance between them and slid her arms up over his shoulders.

Ned opened his mouth, then closed it. "I figured it out."

Nancy raised her eyebrows.

"The name of the shell company. It's not his high school mascot. It's his wife's."

Nancy's mouth dropped open. "Shit. Yes!"

And then, before he could process it, she had pulled him down for a brief, hard kiss and pulled away to sprint back inside. He headed after her, feeling like he was floating a foot above the earth.

On the plane home the next day, the case solved, it clicked into place for him, like the lead that his subconscious had been processing while his mind had been elsewhere.

For Ned, it was simple. He was attracted to her. They wanted to have sex. He wanted more than that, but he had more, a special relationship with her, a slow progress of earning her trust. And her being naked in front of him certainly felt like trust, especially because it wasn't an immediate prelude to sex.

They hadn't had sex. Which meant she wasn't interested in casual or meaningless sex with him. Otherwise it would have happened already.

He was ready and willing. She knew that. She had protested, told him all the reasons it would never work, but that hadn't stopped her from continuing the slow dance of… training, he supposed. He was learning what she wanted.

He had to trust what was between them, and trust her. She had her reasons for feeling the way that she did, for wanting this particular pace. The way that he could show her that he understood was by staying present in her life, showing his devotion to her, but not pushing. If he had to push, to demand, then it wasn't free and easy, was it? And he wanted her to convince herself that this was the right thing to do. Not coerce her into it. As though he even could. She was the strongest-willed person he had ever met.

Just as they usually did, the team took the equipment back to the office, already joking with each other, decompressing. The members who had cycled off would be back on for the next trip, so Ned and the rest who had accompanied Nancy this time would have a few days off. Many of them didn't bother taking much of it. They took a day to sleep and recharge, and then they were back, eager to do it all over again.

Ned unpacked his laptop and equipment, made sure he was logged into the building network and backing up his drive, and slotted everything back into the proper places. He turned down an offer to go out to dinner, promising he would do it next time, and the upbeat cadence of the other team members' conversation and laughter faded as they left.

The light in Nancy's office was on. She often did the same things they did: decompressing through familiar routines, tying up the loose ends, even though the high of solving the case had worn off. He had seen her looking—not depressed, not quite anything that extreme, but—deflated, he supposed. Ready for something to catch her attention again.

Ned was also very aware that the office was under constant surveillance, so when he tapped on her door and looked in, when their gazes met, he just smiled politely.

"Could we take a walk?"

She glanced at her phone, then nodded.

Even at this time of night, the city was alive. Traffic was brisk and neon lights glowed, promising food, entertainment, shopping. He and Nancy walked side by side, both ignoring the security staff members that stayed close enough to her to hopefully confront threats, while giving her a modicum of privacy. A cluster of club-hoppers emerged from one dimly-lit space and made their way drunkenly down the sidewalk half a block away. A continual bass beat pulsed from the open promise of the doorway. The pavement still gleamed under the streetlights.

"It's been a year."

She smiled slightly. "This sounds like the prelude to a request for a raise."

Ned smiled. They were a few blocks away from a park, and that might be a good place for this. He wanted to look into her face. He wanted to gauge her reactions, even though she was very good at keeping her expression impassive.

"The last raise was only a few months ago. I'm glad that my work has earned the attention."

"You're very good at what you do."

They lapsed into a silence that was mostly comfortable, and their steps slowed once they reached the park. He gestured at a nearby bench positioned near a streetlight and she crossed to it, briefly dry-washing her face with her palms. Even the minimal makeup was gone now. She looked tired.

"If you would prefer to do this later, we can have lunch tomorrow. I don't want to stop you from going home. It's not that urgent."

She waved a hand. "If it's you, then it's important," she replied, meeting his gaze. "Tell me."

He wondered if she were steeling herself for news that he was going to work for another House, or that he had tired of the wait.

"I love you."

Her eyes widened very briefly.

"And your life, and the pressures on you... I can't begin to understand them all. But I trust you and your judgement completely. When you're ready, I will be too."

She was quiet for a moment. "I told you that I don't want a pet."

"And then you mentioned that if you did, that person would wear the black."

She glanced away. "Yes," she murmured.

"And then you trusted me enough to show me what you wanted. As you have been doing for a long time now." He studied her expression. "The background checks are thorough. You've probably had at least a few of my past partners vetted. I wouldn't be surprised to find that there's video and audio surveillance in my apartment."

She smiled slightly, still looking away. "That would be a massive breach of privacy."

"I had to provide semen to be tested. The line of what is private continues to blur."

She rubbed her forehead. "I'm sorry. It's—"

"It's a precaution," he said, when she didn't continue. "I know. I don't begrudge it. I want to be entirely transparent with you, and I want you to be safe. I even considered getting the shot, in case—in case."

She glanced over at him. She had gone still and watchful. She held the power, and they both knew it.

Ned took a breath and let it out slowly. "I think we both know that what's between us... it can be delayed, we can pretend it's otherwise, but for me, anyway, this is the most intense attraction I've ever felt. I want to learn what makes you happy and give you that whenever you want it. But that's not unique to you. That's just what I am and what I do, in a relationship.

"I'm not here to beg you or plead with you. You know how I feel. I will wait for you. I'll wait for you to be ready. Because I trust you completely."

She held his gaze. "This is a new tactic."

He shook his head. "I finally got it," he replied. "When I pushed, I was showing you I wasn't ready. It's not my place to ask, only to offer."

Her eyes gleamed briefly. "Yes," she murmured.

He held her gaze for a beat, then slowly moved onto his knees and looked up at her. "You've had casual sex before. So have I."

She nodded.

"This wouldn't be that."

She took a breath, considering. "True," she replied softly.

"We... you can take me to your bed without my wearing the black."

She snickered. "Absolutely."

"And claiming isn't marriage."

She nodded slowly. "They aren't mutually exclusive, and they also aren't automatically the same. It depends."

He kissed her knee. "I love you," he murmured.

"Do you need to hear it in return?"

He shook his head, meeting her gaze again. "It just is," he replied. "For all that you are. You're magnificent. Your trusting me as part of your team is incredible. I count all you offer me as a gift. And when you want me, I will be honored by the wanting."

They gazed at each other. She leaned forward slightly and moved to stroke his cheek, and after a moment, he nuzzled her hand.

He was offering himself to her in public. With anyone else—

No. There was no one else he would have trusted this way. And maybe the relieved calm inside him wouldn't last, but for now, it was just incredible to not feel that clawing panicked certainty that if he didn't do something, it would never happen.

She ran both hands down his cheeks, smoothing her thumbs over his eyebrows, her touch gentle. She broke the simmering tension of their joined gazes by closing her eyes briefly, as though resigning herself, and her shoulders slumped a little.

"Edmund," she murmured.

"Mistress," he replied, holding still. He didn't want to add to her distress. He never wanted to hurt her.

Her eyes opened again. She stroked his face one last time, then stood. After a beat, he did as well.

She took his hand and they walked back to the office together, silently. Her SUV was waiting.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. When their gazes met again, he smiled. The calm held.

The ball was firmly in her court, he thought, as he watched her SUV depart. But then, it always had been.

--

For two weeks, Nancy considered. Ned sent little thoughtful gifts every few days, but she realized that wasn't exclusive to her, that it wasn't an insult or his implying that she couldn't provide for him. He was just observant of the people he cared about, and happy to be generous when he could. The value was nearly all sentimental.

Most importantly, he didn't bring it up again. He interacted with her professionally, and if someone who didn't know them were to observe them, that person might see their conversations and discussions as completely businesslike. When they were unobserved, maybe he would take her hand or draw closer to her than custom dictated. Their gazes would meet and hold, and she would feel that sizzling attraction all the way through her, down her spine, to her fingers and toes.

No, they hadn't had sex. Somehow, that made the waiting sweeter.

Bess, who occasionally dipped into a historical romance novel to break up her steady diet of modern-setting bad-boy-heir and good-girl-commoner novels, had declared it courtly love. His devotion to her transcended the meaningless fleeting euphoria of physical pleasure. Between them it was all lingering pining glances and subtext.

"But that tension has to break," Bess told Nancy sternly.

"You don't want that."

"Of course I do. Please make it so he's caught in a rainstorm and also wearing a white button-down at the time. Please." Bess turned wide, shining eyes on Nancy.

Nancy responded with a hard stare.

"I know. He's yours. I just want it to be good for you, for once."

Nancy had had good before. Acceptable. It would have been easier for her to just stay there.

But she couldn't help longing for a true partner.

The next day, at lunch, she invited him to go out with her. She had arranged for them to have the rooftop patio at the restaurant all to themselves, and her head of security had insisted on installing a temporary shade covering that, if nothing else, would at least make sniping harder.

Her head of security was very good, and Nancy accepted the arrangement without complaint. There had been a time a few years ago when the city's Houses had been going through an exceptionally violent spell, and she had gone weeks without seeing sunlight, on her father's orders.

A pitcher of lemonade, properly vetted, stood sweating on the nearby table. At Nancy's gesture, two glasses were tested, filled, and served.

Ned's hair hadn't been trimmed in a few weeks. His skin was a warm, golden tan, and he wore a navy polo with white contrast stitching at the collar and cuffs. His emotions were too obvious; no one would mistake him for someone born into a House. And people loved him, trusted him, confided in him far more than they did her. He would make a great ally.

Nancy ran her thumb over the slick glass. "I have a few different scenarios. There are pros and cons to each."

"Tell me."

"One: I fire you," she replied, and saw him subtly recoil in shock. "The pro for that one is there's no longer any hint of coercion or a power dynamic issue, or at least not the one between us now. The cons are significant. Any House with power and means would make you a very attractive offer immediately. You know a lot about our organization, and bitterness might make you consider sharing it. And I'd be losing you as a member of my team. They've grown fond of you. You would be very hard to replace."

Ned swallowed, then reached for his glass. "Those are significant."

"Two: I transfer you so that I'm no longer your supervisor. At least, not directly. You would still be in my House. But, again, I would lose you as a member of the team. Your skills are uniquely suited to your current position, or one very similar to it. A transfer might leave you dissatisfied and result in your resignation anyway."

He nodded.

"Three: I leave you in your current position. The entire team already knows that you serve as a particularly effective conduit to me, and haven't objected to your unique status. And you are the best at what you do. Very few people rival you."

"And almost all of them are my teammates."

She nodded.

"What are the cons?"

"That power imbalance," she replied. "This would also create an even wider gulf between you and the other members of the team, potentially. If you discover that what I'm asking is beyond your capability or desire, I—my House may lose you anyway. I would risk losing an incredible professional asset."

"But this might be worth the risk."

"While I may not have the time to train a pet, I can't deny the appeal of having one. It's foolish to pretend otherwise."

He nodded slowly. "It's also foolish to pretend that we will ever be on the same plane," he said. "No matter what, you will always be above me. As you should be."

His expression was carefully neutral. That glint in his eyes wasn't.

"You're an eminently practical person. The most logical option is the third. Our relationship has evolved, and the team has evolved with it."

She gazed at him for a long time. "I'm going to set up a physical for you," she said. "They'll run a genetic screening. You'll have to provide permission for that. If you disapprove, that changes what can happen."

"What will it check for?" Ned had gone very still.

"To see if you are a carrier for any inheritable genetic abnormalities. Among other things."

"Children."

She nodded. She could see that he was thinking hard, but wasn't quite sure how to ask. And of course he wouldn't know. "I'm Second. I want my father to name another child his successor, but that can't happen for a few years, and legally, I have to determine whether you and I are genetically compatible."

"You said my disapproval would change our trajectory. Would incompatibility change it as well?"

She shrugged. "Not really. I can opt for a surrogate to carry a child, and for a member of another House to provide genetic material. I may decide I don't want children, once that avenue is available to me."

Ned shook his head slowly. "Do you want children?" he asked softly.

She paused, then nodded. "Bess said once that when a child is involved in a case I'm working, that triples the stakes for me. Maybe because of how old I was when..." She trailed off.

Ned nodded.

Nancy cleared her throat. "The rest of the physical is the standard."

"And I'm very familiar with that aspect of it."

She met his gaze again. "I'll do all I can to prepare you," she said. "I want you to understand what you're agreeing to, if you decide to say yes."

"I'll be with you."

Her heart pounded briefly. She nodded.

"Then the answer is yes."

--

Nancy was out of town when Ned was called in, and even though he had already said yes, he knew very acutely that she hadn't. This step felt—very meaningful. Not a guarantee, but something close to it.

When he was called in to discuss the results, he had thought Nancy would be there, too, and was disappointed to find that she wasn't. She was back in town...

And, despite what she had told him, he thought that if there were some significant genetic incompatibility, that would bring things to a dead stop. She was looking for a long-term partner, and the path of least resistance would involve finding one who could potentially have children with her. He was already working at a significant disadvantage, given the difference in their social standing, and he didn't need any more strikes against him.

Bess was the one who came in, wearing her hair in a gleaming blonde curtain. Her suit, a somber black for the occasion, was fitted and meticulously clean, and the blouse showing above the jacket was a frothed confection of peachy blooms. Then she shot him a conspiratorial grin, and the veneer cracked. This was a role for her, one of many that she played for Nancy.

And, Ned reminded himself, Bess was a silent third party in his text-message conversations with Nancy.

Bess placed the leather folder she carried on the table between them, then sat down and immediately crossed her legs. "The short answer is that, from all the nerds can tell, you two make a good combo."

Ned slumped in relief. "Good."

"They can do editing, but that's frowned on. I mean, some Houses don't care." Bess shrugged. "But you don't need to worry about that. I'm just here to give you a little orientation."

Ned raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Since she's taken this step, once you two have—well, actually slept together, if she decides that she does want you as a long-term partner, you will have your own rooms here. Since your parents generally stay with you when they visit, if you want to keep your apartment, you may, but that won't be your primary residence."

Ned took a slow breath and released it. "All right. My rooms?"

Bess nodded. "Basically your own apartment. She will call you when she requires you. Otherwise, you'll have your own space."

Nancy was an intensely private person. He didn't know why this detail surprised him, or disappointed him, but he couldn't say it was out of character.

"You can keep the money you have before—the claiming, if she decides to claim you. From that point, you will be provided for by the House. Rent, utilities, food, a clothing budget—those would all be provided."

"While my movements are surveilled."

Bess searched his face. "Nancy has been watched practically every moment from birth," she said gently. "I know it's jarring for someone who hasn't lived it. Prime is very concerned about her safety. I also know enough about you to realize that you, very likely, already know ways around our security and if you wanted something kept secret, it would be."

Ned didn't reply to that. He knew that this wasn't private.

After a few more points of boilerplate discussion, Bess handed over the results of the genetic testing and the legal versions of all she had said. She encouraged him to look it all over, consider it, and consult an attorney if he wished. Given Carson Drew's reputation, though, Ned didn't imagine that would end well.

Bess closed her folder. "One last thing," she said. "I don't think this is going to be a problem for you, but I know you've bought her gifts, and... she doesn't wear lingerie."

Ned smiled briefly. "I've seen the sports bras."

Bess sighed dramatically. "If I'm lucky, she's in a sports bra. She has no regard for what it does to her figure. When I'm getting her done up for a night out, you'd think I was waterboarding her."

Ned chuckled. "You do a damn fine job."

"Thank you," Bess replied, flipping her hair. "I'm always glad when my work is appreciated."

--

Nancy had never wanted to be here. Even this made her feel like she had lost... something. Maybe the unexamined belief that this could work, since it had never worked before, and if she never questioned or tried it, it could never fail.

She had been over it and over it so many times, but logic didn't seem to matter, and the prudent, political, advantageous strategy didn't seem to matter. She had already made up her mind to never marry, and that had been its own defiance and rebellion.

She wasn't sure what her father would consider worse: a Second who would give up the role as soon as a worthy successor was of age, a Second who showed no interest in marrying and refused to translate that apathy into a political alliance, or a Second who...

...would do this.

It was all there, in the House expenditures, if he cared to look or if anyone cared to tell him. Nancy's relationship with Ned was so much of an open secret that it hardly qualified as one anymore. It was common knowledge on the team. Bess was actively encouraging Nancy to pursue him. Even George, who understood better the complexity of training, had given her approval.

How did this feel as inevitable as the tide? How did not being with him feel like fighting to hold her breath: obstinate, shortsighted, and ultimately fruitless?

She didn't need anyone. She was the one who was needed. And it would solve so many problems if he failed to meet her standards, if some new incompatibility surfaced—if the bubble popped. All her pessimism realized. Another repetition of the same pattern she had always known. Hope, disappointment, and a brutal break.

He had been waiting since yesterday. She had been called out of town, to testify at a trial, but he had already been summoned and Bess had said it would just give him some time to settle in and relax while she booked some spa treatments for him.

And now Nancy was back, and she had run out of excuses.

She sighed and stood, tapping a button on her phone. Bess appeared a minute later, panting slightly.

"Is it time?"

Might as well get it over with. Nancy nodded, frowning. "In here."

Bess rolled her eyes. "Of course. Okay, one last time—wax strips?"

"No."

"Some cute underwear? You have this really pretty blue set—"

Nancy glared at her.

Bess held her hands up in surrender, palms out. "I double-checked. He did take the treatment."

Nancy nodded and ran her hand over her hair. "Once he's in here, DND."

"All right." Bess's practiced gaze ran down and back up. "You look great. Deep breath, shoulders back—"

"Bess."

Bess tossed her hair and vanished.

A few minutes later, Nancy heard a tap at the door. She crossed and opened it.

Ned stood there.

It had been a few days, but that heart-stopping jolt on seeing him was more intense than ever. She took a half-step back and gestured him inside, closing the door before Bess could call out any last-second advice.

"Mistress."

She couldn't deny that his saying it always sent a frisson of pleasure down her spine. That pleasure deepened significantly when he stepped forward and slowly lowered himself to his knees.

She combed her fingers through his hair. "Let's begin."

Nancy wore a black robe. It wasn't silk or satin; it was a soft, thin fabric. Maybe cashmere. It was the... not the most feminine, because he had seen her dressed up for formal occasions, but maybe the least guarded.

He was on his knees before her. He could hardly believe it.

She slid her fingers out of his hair and walked over to the chair at her bedside, then tossed the robe over it.

Maybe it shouldn't have been shocking, given how many times he had seen her naked, but this... he let his gaze roam over her, while faintly worried that doing so was against the rules.

"You're so beautiful."

She didn't visibly react, but surely she had to know. Surely it was in his role to give her compliments, especially genuine ones.

She crossed to him again, and he gazed up at her. He needed her permission; he was clear on that.

"What do you remember, from our lessons?"

He went through the signals she had taught him, and she kept her gaze on him. She didn't nod or make any sign whatsoever, just gazed at him.

He paused. "Is this another lesson, mistress?"

Her gaze flicked down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. "More like an exam. Or a trial run."

Ned swallowed.

"Show me what you've learned, Edmund."

In answer he moved and planted a gentle kiss just under her belly button.

Her lashes lowered briefly. Given the number of times she had mentioned oral sex, he had thought it was a safe bet.

Then she moved to the bed and, perched at the edge, bent her knees and spread her legs.

The overhead lights were on. Nancy's bedroom bore what Ned thought were likely Bess's interior design touches—a plush comforter, luxurious pillows, a glossy bedside lamp—but it matched the way he normally thought of her: focused on her work, using her bedroom only to rest, with very little of her that could be considered at all frivolous or decorative. She was so focused on doing everything as quickly and efficiently as possible. She knew what aroused her, and when she had invited him to watch her masturbate during their trips together, that efficiency had carried over.

And if all she wanted was a battery-powered sex toy, he wouldn't be here.

He went over to the chair at her bedside and moved it toward the bed, in case he needed it. She hadn't asked him to undress, so he didn't; instead, he stood at the foot of the bed and gazed down at her. "You're so beautiful," he murmured. "I can't believe I'm here. All I want is to please you. To savor this."

She was holding his gaze, and she didn't smile.

Maybe all her other experiences with this, her first time with a new partner and potential pet, had been disappointing. Maybe she expected him to fuck this up, and he likely would. He still wasn't sure how to make sure that he didn't do something that would displease her, and if she didn't give him a signal to stop—

She would. But maybe her doing so would mean he had failed.

He swallowed his nerves and moved onto the bed, on his knees, and nuzzled her breast; she slowly reclined, and he moved with her. He cupped her other breast, slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth over her nipple.

She sighed, and he heard the quiet shiver in it.

He took it slowly, suckling each nipple to a tight wet nub, then trading off, fondling the other breast, rubbing her nipple with the same rhythm his mouth used. That was the only place he touched her. When he glanced his teeth over the pebbled nub, she groaned.

And he smiled.

He released her only to hear her gasp in protest, moving the chair so he could rest his weight on it, then cupped her breasts and stroked her nipples with the same steady rhythm as he kissed his way down her body, over her belly, her belly button. She was still spread wide, her hips gently rocking.

He stroked his tongue over the slick button of her clit, once, twice, and she groaned again. When he drew it into his mouth and suckled it as he had her nipples, using the same rhythm to fondle her breasts, she gasped, then whimpered a sob.

He was good at this. And if this pleased her, he was more than glad to worship her like this. Every gasp, whimper, groan of pleasure sent another jolt of arousal through him.

If only she would let him do this again, to provoke those whimpers of delight. He would beg her for it. He just had to be good enough for her now, to show her that she had chosen well in him.

"Oh," she moaned, and then her fingers were in his hair, holding his head to keep him in place as he ate her out. "Oh God yes, yes, so good..."

He slowly dragged his stubbled chin over her clit, panting, and she arched up off the bed with a shrill cry, her fingers still buried in his hair.

No, he decided. He didn't need to worry about misreading her, about her not telling him that she was displeased with his actions. He dragged his chin over her again, closing his eyes as she sobbed. He was hard as hell, and he had every intention of finishing her off like this; he didn't think she would let go until she'd come, anyway.

Her hips were rocking, thrusting, and he suckled her clit hard a few more times, then gently bit her before rubbing his chin over her clit again. He had shaved that morning, but many of the women he'd dated found the pinpricks of his stubble incredibly stimulating—as did Nancy.

She came with a cry, her hips rocking urgently, and he returned to gentle strokes of his tongue as he squeezed her breasts. Her hand fell away, and she shuddered with every stroke over her clit, sobbing quietly.

Then she tapped his shoulder.

Ned moved back. Her sex was flushed, glistening, plush; her chest, her cheeks, were flushed and faintly gleaming. Her eyes were sewn shut, her lips parted as she fought to catch her breath.

He couldn't even imagine what it would feel like—and he didn't. He slid off the chair and onto his knees at the foot of her bed, smelling her arousal and fighting his own.

"God," Nancy murmured a few minutes later. "Oh my God."

Ned smiled.

He felt the bed shift. "Edmund," she said softly. "Take your clothes off and get on the bed."

He obeyed immediately and was gratified to see her gaze drop to his waist—especially when her eyes widened for a second. He slid one knee onto the bed.

She patted it. "On your back," she said, meeting his gaze. "If you're ready."

He obeyed her, his heart pounding, and watched her straddle his thighs. She looked him over; she had seen him nearly naked, but this was different. And she had been clear that this would be done by her own preferences as well.

"What's the rule," she murmured.

"I don't come until you tell me to."

She nodded. "I won't prolong it to be cruel. But I expect to be satisfied."

"Of course," he replied, gazing up at her. "I want to give you such pleasure, mistress. I'll do everything in my power."

She leaned down and nuzzled his cheek, his neck, his earlobe, and Ned closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down and relax, especially knowing what the penalty would be for failure. Her lips brushed his neck, his collarbone, his chest. For an absurd second he wondered if she would go down on him, but she had said she wouldn't be cruel, and while he was patient, he wasn't sure he could be that patient.

Then she lowered her hips to his and dragged those slick, plush lips over the length and girth of his cock.

Ned made a soft strangled sound, his hips bucking once, instinctually. Jesus. He was way too keyed up to hold out for long, and he forced himself to take a slow breath, his eyes closed tight, his fist closing and opening.

"You're clean and on the shot. I want you bare." She gasped when her clit dragged over his cock, her lashes lowering. Then she opened her eyes again. "You clean both of us after."

While it was phrased as a statement, he understood it was a question—and he also understood that his rejection of her terms might stop things immediately. "Yes," he panted.

She ground herself against him a few more times, until she was trembling a little, until his cock was completely slick with her arousal. He was a heartbeat away from pleading with her when she pushed herself up, and he nearly cried out at the loss of her, the warmth, the drag of her nipples over his bare chest, the heat of her sex.

She took his erection in her hand and angled it, then mounted him in a tantalizingly slow thrust, as though she were savoring him, as though she were making sure that she approved of the way he felt inside her. If his cock, the angle, the girth, the length, weren't good enough for her—

She sank down until her hips were flush to his, then tipped her head back. "Oh God," she groaned.

Because it was perfect, the fit of him in her was perfect, so completely that it was maddening. She was snug but not painfully tight.

Then she adjusted her weight slightly and began to stroke and fondle her breasts, pinching her nipples.

She wasn't thrusting. Jesus Christ. He was going to die.

He rested his hand on her upper thigh, very close to the top, and when she nodded, answering his unspoken question, he slid his thumb between the outer lips of her sex and found the slick button of her clit again. She moaned and when he began to rub her clit in rapid strokes, he felt her sex flutter as she clenched and released him.

Ned couldn't help it. He groaned helplessly.

If he could have found a way to do it, he would have scraped his stubble over her again, but he settled for stroking her roughly, rapidly, until she finally, thank God, began to thrust her hips in quick, frantic jerks, short and sharp, still keeping most of his length inside her. She was almost kneading her breasts in frustration, rolling her nipples, her breath coming in sharp whimpered pants.

No. Not frustrated. He didn't want her to be frustrated.

He flicked the tip of his nail back and forth over her clit, in the same frantic rhythm she was using to tease her breasts.

She tipped her head back and sobbed then, and when she changed her angle and rutted against him, desperate, he switched hands. She cried out and her thrusts were wild, irregular bounces—

And then those gentle spasms peaked as her sex tightened like a fist, drawing him into her, the slick grip of her orgasm a nearly irresistible invitation to find his own release. She released a shrill scream as he kept flicking her clit.

He would die under her. He would lose his control and disappoint her and die like this.

No. He couldn't let this be the only time. He couldn't.

She was riding his cock—he could practically see it vanishing inside her, and it was erotic as hell—and sobbing when she came again, and this time, her thrusts began to slow as she sank to him. He was still rock-hard and balls-deep in her when she moaned, her breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples still hard-peaked, and his thumb working frantically over her clit.

"Come," she gasped.

Ned cried out in relief as his hips pumped under hers, as his strokes over her clit slowed. She whimpered, then slumped against him as he slid his hand from between them and tried to catch his breath.

His hands were numb. Jesus.

But he had pleased her. He knew that much.

Her heart was pounding; he could feel it. Slowly, achingly slowly, the aftershocks passed; the sweat was beginning to dry on her skin, leaving her shivering, and those soft echoes of her orgasm finally stopped milking his spent cock.

She pushed back, dismounting, and then—

Her mouth was on his.

He barely had time to gasp before he was returning her kiss. It started out fierce and hot, almost an attack more than any show of affection, and then they relaxed together. Her tongue stroked over his, and she had to be tasting her arousal there. She sighed when he brought his arms up and ran his palms up her sides in a slow caress.

Then she broke the kiss and rolled off him, parting her legs wide.

It took him a few seconds longer than it should have to realize, to somehow force his legs to work after the relief of his orgasm, but he found her bathroom and a washcloth. He made sure the water was warm and the fabric soft, then returned to her and cleaned her with slow, gentle strokes. He went back to the bathroom to clean himself, and when he returned, she had straightened her legs, but she was still completely naked, and her eyes were closed.

"Thank you," she murmured. "That will be all."

Ned felt something break in him.

Why had he stupidly expected anything more? This was a trial run and she wasn't the cuddling type. He had taken his test. Just because she was kicking him out didn't mean she hadn't enjoyed it.

Maybe he hadn't done enough.

No. He gave his head a little shake. He was being stupid. She had climaxed three times. And she had dismissed him.

He gathered the clothes he had discarded and put them back on quickly. She wasn't expecting a response. She hadn't asked him anything.

He took a deep breath. "Thank you, mistress," he said softly. "Thank you for letting me worship you. Thank you for letting me come inside you. I'll do all I can to improve, in the hopes that you will summon me again."

It wasn't love.

It was a kind of love. Maybe more for him than for her.

He left her room, trying to convince himself that maybe she would deem him marginally capable of learning enough to please her. Maybe this wouldn't be the only time.

The security staff passed by like a blur, and he couldn't look any of them in the eyes. They knew who and what he was.

Maybe she hadn't rejected him. Maybe.

--

When Nancy opened the bathroom door, Bess was sitting on her bed, eyebrow raised.

Nancy rubbed her forehead. She had a towel wrapped around her, and her hair fell in damp locks to her shoulders. "Did you call housekeeping?" she asked, vanishing into her closet.

"Sure."

Nancy sighed and rubbed the towel over her hair again, then dumped it into the laundry basket. She pulled on a soft bra and pants, then an oversized t-shirt.

When she emerged, Bess had already pulled some bottles out of her bathroom and was waiting near her chair. "Come on," Bess said, motioning her over. "Indulge me."

Nancy had just lowered herself into the chair when they heard a tap at the door. Shane came in and rapidly stripped and remade the bed, as Bess tossed a few flirty comments his way. Nancy knew Shane was happily married, and Bess was friends with the couple, so there was no heat in it, just old shared jokes.

And then—it was done. Like it hadn't happened. She had washed him off her skin and her sheets were freshly laundered and he was gone.

"He doesn't trust me."

"No," Bess drawled in feigned shock. "Holy shit. You? Did you say more than five words to him the whole time?"

"Like you weren't listening at the door."

"I did hear you scream a few times," she admitted. "I'll take a play by play if you're up for it." She paused. "Like he was."

Nancy flipped her off, glaring. "Go ahead, get it over with."

They heard another tap at the door as Bess worked some product into Nancy's hair. George poked her head in.

Nancy groaned. "Seriously?"

"Hey. Wasn't my idea," George said, nodding at Bess. "Although I did think about bringing a bag of popcorn."

Nancy rolled her eyes, then sighed. "He's good. And he doesn't trust me."

"Of course he doesn't," George replied, perching at the edge of Nancy's bed. "You're breaking him in and you've made it clear that if he fucks up, that's it."

Bess massaged something into Nancy's scalp. "Mmm. Hold that thought. I need to wash my hands. And we're doing a facial."

George smiled slightly once Bess was in the bathroom. "She doesn't understand."

"Yeah." Nancy stretched. "Oh my God."

"So he was good."

Nancy nodded. "He doesn't have a lot of control yet."

"Of course not."

Bess made a frustrated sound when she returned to find them talking. "Shht! Catch me up."

"It takes a while to break in a pet," George said. "That's all. He'll take a while to break in."

"If I decide to."

Bess raised an eyebrow as she rubbed a washcloth into a jar. "Why would you not? Did I miss that part?"

"It's a lot."

"Of sex," Bess said flatly. "Oh, the horror. Oh, my stars. Letting that man make you scream again. The utter decadence."

When Nancy didn't immediately reply, George said gently, "It's more than that. If she wants him to take the black."

Nancy closed her eyes. "This will be a fun diversion for him," she murmured. "A trip outside his normal. He doesn't understand."

"He can't understand if you won't tell him."

"And I want to understand," Bess interjected into Nancy and George's exchange. "I mean, I've seen it on shows, but..."

George scoffed. "Shows make it look like it's all about sex. One night together and it's done. Like the bullshit about love at first sight."

"Which, sure, lust at first sight, I'll give you that." Bess wiped off whatever she had applied to Nancy's face and started shaking another bottle.

"And the long-terms I had before didn't immediately show how clingy they were going to get."

"Ned doesn't strike me as that clingy."

"We'll see."

Nancy's nose twitched as she tried not to scratch it. She felt absurdly elated and bruised.

Everything was by her terms, and nothing was. She forced him into an ever tightening circle because she had so little space to maneuver. Having the testing done, leading him along like this—

If she could trust him.

If she could only trust herself.

--

They were in Europe, and Nancy and her support staff had bought out an entire floor of a hotel for their current operation. Normally she preferred a location that allowed more security and privacy, but this had been a rush job and their first, second, third choices had fallen through.

Ned had returned to his apartment—to pack, as it turned out, since less than twenty-four hours after sharing Nancy's bed, he had been summoned for another case. When they were in proximity, when she was debriefing and taking their reports, Ned had to force himself to remember what "normal" behavior was for them, because he didn't want to betray her by saying anything to give it away, but he also didn't want to act so stiff and unnatural around her that it would provoke comment.

So it was easier to just wall off that part of himself, and pretend that it had happened in the other realm of his life, which it had. It was irrelevant to the case and their working relationship.

And he remembered again her reluctance to do this, in case it bled into their work.

The urgency built, and he released it and let it go. If he were sure of her, this wouldn't be so hard. But he could sense how terribly close she was to walking away, how one mistake might destroy it—

And his worrying wouldn't change it. Whatever happened was her decision, just as it always had been.

She was keyed up about the case, and they were working with another House; their Second was a woman about ten years Nancy's senior who lacked Nancy's incredible control, but whose resources and connections seemed vast. She was much like many of the other contacts Nancy had on her cases, Ned had noticed: passionate, zealous, driven. Their Prime forged relationships and had an unimpeachable reputation, and Nancy traded on that without ever violating it, advocating for those who had been harmed or cheated, seeking to restore what had been lost or find some measure of justice. The Houses she took on were often ridiculously wealthy—"And why do you think that is," Ned had heard among the team more than once—and Nancy had to be inventive, finding the right leverage, the right button to push, the right bit of information. Some of these missions he had participated in were building the relationships that the House needed, but most were Nancy standing strong and unafraid, facing a foe three times her size and confident that she was right and absolutely could not afford to fail. She walked a razor-thin line. Offending a powerful House without sufficient proof was unimaginable. She had to know what was worth threatening to reveal, who she could afford to owe, and whose favors to grant in case the debt might be useful later.

The petitioners were never-ending, and Nancy saw it as her mission in life. It was no wonder that she had protested that she didn't have the time to build a relationship with Ned, even one based solely on sex. She barely found spare moments for sleeping and eating, especially while she was on her cases.

That single-minded determination, and her committing herself to trading on her privilege instead of allowing it to do to her what it had done so many others, insulating her against the inconvenient truth that all those who lived outside the House echelon fought for a chance to join it, whether it be as a housekeeper, a cook, a scribe—that was why he had fallen for her, one reason among many. She hadn't been born into the working class he had been, but she still saw those outside the House system as worth respect and fair treatment. She was undoubtedly right, that if her House hadn't made Ned an offer, another one certainly would have—but she had been in no way obligated to treat him as generously as she did.

He trusted her with so much, and had for so long. But here...

He hungered for her touch, ached for her attention, and was helpless with need for her. Of course he felt a little desperate. Now he knew what it was to be inside her.

Now he knew what it was to be home, but he could only wait on her invitation to return.

Nancy and her contact on this case communicated easily with each other, but Nancy still connected with the team every hour or two, adding new pieces of information, explaining if something they had thought true had been disproven, going over possible scenarios. When the case took them to a fairly remote island a few hours away from the hotel, glossy black buses appeared to ferry them, and Ned and Maury talked through possible searches as they ate takeout. 

Ned loved the work he was doing. He had a close bond with most of his coworkers. He felt like they were making a difference.

And his need to be with Nancy might jeopardize all of it. He knew that. He was also incapable of walking away.

Bess knew that Ned had been summoned to Nancy's bed for that trial run. Bess also knew how to keep things to herself, otherwise she wouldn't be in Nancy's orbit, but Ned wondered if she knew, if they all knew, if the brush-off just hadn't happened yet.

He couldn't bring himself to believe it. Maybe he just didn't want to. But their gazes had met a few times, and once, he had brought her coffee, and that spark—oh, it was definitely still there.

The following day, they were headed to the airport when it happened. The sleek SUV that carried Nancy was struck by a car in a deliberate attempt to not just run her off the road, but seriously injure her. The car rammed the SUV in the side, a terrifying smash that sent it over the edge and into a partially frozen lake.

Ned knew how heavily fortified the vehicles were. That didn't quell his panic.

The security staff split. George and Andre immediately worked on freeing Nancy. Another pair set off after the car's driver. Ned was close enough to hear one near him calling emergency services to the scene—and to hear the decision that they would transport her themselves, regardless of any protests she might make. They were too far out.

When they pulled her from the drowned car, Nancy was still and deathly pale. George and Andre immediately began resuscitation, while Max checked her over, shouting orders for supplies.

The first few trips, Ned had seen Nancy's entourage as a show of power, a ludicrous waste of resources, at odds with what he knew about her. But they were meant for situations like this one, and while Ned had been impressed by how rapidly they worked to mitigate a crisis, he had never witnessed one quite like this.

Nancy gasped in a breath and coughed, and Ned's heart started beating again.

They moved her to the undamaged lead SUV, gently and quickly. Ned and Maury followed, silent, unwilling to interfere with the team but unwilling to sit it out if they could help.

George was briskly toweling off icy water and changing into dry clothes. Andre pulled out a rescue blanket. The driver had surfaced and was receiving first aid as well.

"Here. You." George barked orders at Ned, beckoning him forward.

Two minutes later, Ned was in the floorboard of the backseat, stripped to his underwear, holding Nancy's freezing, unconscious body. They were wrapped in the rescue blanket and a thick sleeping bag, and Nancy had been stripped and briskly toweled off. Her skin was terrifyingly cold under his, but at least he could still feel her pulse.

The SUV pulled away from the curb with a roar.

Her hair wasn't just wet from the lake.

Ned held her closer, then kept himself still so he didn't lose any of the precious warmth slowly building around her. "We're on the way to the hospital," he told her, even though he was sure she couldn't hear. "Maury will be restoring your backup phone now. The team will find who did this. You know that we would burn down the world for you."

She was shivering. He was too anxious to know whether that was a good sign or a bad one. He shifted his weight slightly, trying to will more of his warmth into her.

"Five minutes out," the driver barked. Ned heard sirens. There was no way the SUV had been heeding traffic regulations.

At the hospital, when they jerked to an abrupt stop, Nancy groaned. Ned's eyes widened, and his pulse spiked.

"Don't... need... hospital."

Ned almost laughed in relief. Thankfully, this was above his station. George or Andre would insist, would say she was delirious and would call on Prime to back them if needed.

He nearly said a half-dozen things—I love you, I'm glad you're awake, I was so scared. Then the door swung open and his throat closed, and a few seconds later he was half-wrapped in a bloodstained blanket, still almost naked, and alone.

--

The words "house arrest" weren't spoken, but they might as well have been.

Nancy had allowed her scalp to be stitched up at the hospital; Bess had moaned in agony on seeing it. The bruising had gone down some, and Nancy still felt like she had been tackled by a few homicidal linebackers.

She had finished the case, dammit. She had pushed through a concussion and the undeniable pain of having survived a nasty car crash to bring the evidence to authorities, and she would be damned if the Kallen Group got away with anything like this again.

But, for now, she was home and under orders to stay there. Any case she took on for the next week would have to be solved remotely—and very secretly, since she wasn't supposed to do anything that might require deep thinking.

She hated concussions. She also hated sitting on her hands. While she felt mostly back to normal, she was aware that straining herself might make things worse, and that made her frustrated. She couldn't go to the gym to work out. Couldn't even do some word problems without causing herself a nasty headache.

Two taps sounded on the door. Bess pushed a cart in and offered Nancy a smile.

"I'm not hungry."

"I know." Bess was studiously casual, drawing off the cloche with only the faintest flourish. Spaghetti in marinara sauce with meatballs, garlic toast, tomato and mozzarella salad.

Well. Maybe she was a little hungry.

Nancy sat down at her desk, ignoring the notifications on her phone. Even reading for too long had given her a headache, especially when it involved a screen. Her misery was nearly total.

Bess took the seat near the desk and took out her tablet. Nancy suppressed her jealousy. It was hard to feel lucky she was alive when she couldn't do anything. It wouldn't be forever, but the claustrophobic sensation of mental cabin fever was unnerving.

Bess smiled and glanced up.

Nancy wiped her mouth. "Hmm?"

"Ned's here. If you're interested."

"Did you invite him?"

Bess shook her head. "George did. They're on the basketball court."

Nancy sighed. Basketball wasn't even close to her favorite workout, but she would have even gone for that now. "They've really hit it off," she commented, trying to sound neutral.

"He's a new challenge."

Nancy expected Bess to push it, to keep making comments, but Bess mentioned a rescheduled visit from Senator Marilyn Kilpatrick and a new date for an embassy dinner that Nancy's father had been interested in for months. She didn't stay on any one topic for too long, mindful of what thinking too hard might do, and before Nancy realized it, she had eaten most of her dinner.

Ned was here.

And Bess hadn't even suggested a few lingerie sets, just in case.

Once Bess had left with the dinner cart, Nancy brushed her teeth and checked her reflection.

Stupid. She was being so incredibly stupid.

Ned hadn't messaged her, letting her know he was nearby. After he'd found out that checking screens was too much for her, he sent his daily "hope you're feeling better" messages to Bess every morning to pass along. They had seen each other a few times since the car crash, but they hadn't been alone, and hadn't had any chance to talk.

He was respecting her wishes. He had also picked out a sleeping mask that could heat or cool, if she so desired, and sent that to her.

What was the harm?

Everything. Everything was the harm.

Will you be here another half hour or so?

His answer came immediately. Yes.

She showered and realized she was trying to push through an exhausted spell, and made herself take a break. Her impatience would only set her back. She had learned that the hard way. She toweled off her hair, but even the thought of the hair dryer made her head pound a little, so she gave that up.

 My house arrest continues, but I'm available for a visit.

It wasn't an order. Tonight wasn't going to be about sex, anyway.

She answered his knock and opened the door. Six foot two, breathtakingly gorgeous, and an expression that was open in its desire.

Hers, her man, if she wanted him.

She took a step back and gestured him inside. "I can't promise I'll be good company. I'm going stir crazy."

He came into her room and she closed the door behind him. She saw the question in his eyes, the way he was poised, and shook her head slowly. Any faster, and she would regret it.

"Not yet. I don't want a ten minute lecture from my doctor."

He relaxed. "Not yet," he repeated.

She sighed silently and sat at the foot of her bed. He was freshly showered too; his hair was still damp, and he looked effortlessly casual in a gray t-shirt and soft black pants. Nancy wore an oversized turquoise t-shirt and wafer-thin ridiculously soft lounge pants that had been washed from black to an uneven charcoal. Bess hated them, as she hated all of Nancy's lounging clothes.

"Can we talk? Without making your concussion…?"

He made a vague gesture, and Nancy cleared her throat. "Yes. I'll stop if my head starts hurting."

He slowly sat down beside her. "I hate that you're hurting."

"And they'll pay," Nancy replied, her voice firm. "They already are."

Retaliating was a risk; it could provoke another escalating attack. But Nancy's father was happy to use less conventional means to punish those who hurt his House, and especially anyone who hurt his firstborn.

Ned glanced down. "Did I not please you?"

Nancy drew a deep breath. "You did. If I were seeking short-term companionship, you would have already reached that bar."

He met her gaze again, brow furrowed.

"I want something longer term. If you and I are compatible, we'll reach a place where we can easily anticipate needs and desires. And you'd have better control."

He looked down again. "Forgive me, mistress."

She touched his hand. "You're learning. I know you were trying hard."

"Your patience is more than I deserve."

She searched his gaze when he looked up again. "You doubted…"

He swallowed. "I think about you all the time," he replied. "I want you all the time. I would sleep at the foot of your bed every night, if you allowed it."

Nancy couldn't help it; her lashes lowered slightly. "Even if I were in no position to offer more."

"To be near you. That's all I want. If you were comfortable with that, if it would be acceptable to you. Not otherwise."

She frowned. "I don't share my bed. For long, anyway."

"Security risk?"

She could tell that he wasn't quite being serious, but she nodded anyway.

"Have you had... longer-term relationships? Did they go badly, and that's why you're... more reluctant than you would be otherwise?" He coughed. "That was out of line."

"It was," she agreed. "You require an extraordinary amount of training to please me. Clearly no other man has done so, or he would be here instead. And my reluctance is directly related to the meager amount of free time I have as Second of my House." She paused. "Were the shoe on the other foot, I would definitely have declared the effort incredibly disproportional."

He just gazed at her for a moment, his eyes soft and dark. "If you were me?"

She nodded.

"My parents work," he replied. "Every day. When they discovered my talents, that was the first hint I saw from them that something about our lives might possibly change. There was no 'work hard and you can make it.' There was, is, only this. Comfort and safety."

Her gaze remained on his face. She only watched him, her heart beating a little faster.

"Your life is so far from theirs that... there are no words. They're glad and grateful that I was offered this chance. All I had to do was keep my head down, make myself indispensable to you and your House, and my career would be secure.

"And then I saw you, and that was all. You're my first thought when I wake and my last thought when I sleep, and nearly every other in between. I give you my best, my all, because it's all I can offer that's anywhere close to what you deserve. Being in your presence... it's like being home."

Their gazes held until Ned glanced away.

"All I know is what they have," he said quietly. "What my friends have. What you want is so different. But anyone else wouldn't be you." He shrugged slightly. "This is part of who you are. You want to be desired and obeyed. How could I do or be anything else?"

"I can't help feeling you'll regret this. That this is a waste of our time."

"Maybe I will. Maybe I'll always feel intensely about you, even if we—stop." He stroked his thumb down the side of his hand. "But I don't want to say I didn't try."

"You definitely have."

"And I—I want, so much, to show you. To learn. To understand it all. And if you decide not to pursue this, I want to make it the hardest choice you've ever made. I want to make you forget everything that makes you second-guess this."

She rubbed her forehead.

He immediately closed his mouth.

She took a slow breath. "No part of this has been… taken lightly."

"I'm sorry."

"No. Part of it is all that we still need to talk about, but I can't right now. I feel useless."

"You aren't."

She waved a hand. "It's temporary, I should just be glad I'm still alive. All that."

He gazed at her. "I'd talk to you for hours. I want to know everything about you."

From someone else, that would have triggered alarm bells. She searched his face.

A year. He had given her a year of his life and it had been no hardship. She had given him the means to provide for himself and help his family. And he loved her, even though his loving her risked his security.

"I need to rest."

He moved, as though to rise.

She glanced down. "Take your shoes off."

She had only used it a few times, this gift from Bess, but she was glad to have it now. She had Ned lie down on the bed and set up the projector, as an insistent pounding in her head warned her she had reached the limits of her endurance.

With the lights off and the projection on the ceiling, Nancy rested with her head on Ned's shoulder. The movie was one she had seen before, one of her favorites, so she wouldn't tax herself trying to follow it.

His arm was around her.

This had been missing, she realized as she felt herself drifting off. Friendship. Her previous partners had understood the rules quickly, and their only demands on her had come once she had terminated the relationship. She wanted sex, and they provided it, and that was all. She would marry someone else, and they never expected that from her. They understood.

Did Ned understand? She had tried to say it, but many of the dynamics of House society, despite of or possibly thanks to pop culture, remained opaque to those outside it.

The black wasn't marriage, but it could be. She could remain available for potential spousal arrangements even if her pet wore the black. Public and private. Asset and liability.

She was so tired. Just so damn tired.

And for the first time in her adult life, she fell asleep in a man's arms.

"Nancy."

Daylight. Nancy checked the time, then rubbed her forehead. Based on how she felt, she had missed a dose of pain reliever.

"Hey." Her voice sounded like gravel.

Ned appeared in the doorway to the bathroom. He was still dressed in his clothes from the night before, his hair rumpled, his jaw shadowed in stubble. He looked ridiculously hot. "Excuse me."

Bess. Bess had said her name. Bess was standing just inside the doorway, the door to the hall closed, her eyes wide and jaw set.

Ned crossed to Nancy. "Do you want me to stay?"

She did. Maybe it was a weakness. She didn't care. But she sighed. "Yes, but I'm sure you have work to do, and Bess being here means I do too."

He held Nancy's gaze. She stood and cupped his cheek, then stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his.

Bess stayed silent, giving Ned a small smile as he left.

"Nothing happened." Nancy reached for the pain medication. She had the sickening feeling it would be unable to overtake the pain today.

Bess nodded. "Prime has asked if you could have lunch with him."

Nancy nearly raised her eyebrows. Her father generally didn't ask. "At the courthouse?"

"He offered to come here."

Even stranger. He probably wanted an update on her progress. "Here is fine."

In her closet, Nancy closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. She had felt her father out on her nascent plans, but declaring her intentions about Ned…

She didn't truly believe her father would cast her out. He loved her and was concerned about her safety. But she also hadn't made him officially aware, and he hadn't had to give his public blessing. And Nancy's oldest sibling was years from being able to take her place.

Maybe this would be another "you need to be more careful" conversation. Those were very familiar, when her cases resulted in hospital visits or destroyed property, or both.

She dressed in soft jersey, her hair loosely pulled back to keep from tugging on her stitches. Her father's security arrived just before he did, and a pair of cloches on a tray were transferred to the small table in their private dining room, a place he used as his study when he needed to spread out and bounce ideas off someone. He also looked like he had stepped out of a courtroom a few minutes earlier. His dark suit was immaculately tailored, his white shirt crisp, tie knotted just-so.

She smiled. "Important case?"

He put his leather folder beside his plate. "Yes, but I needed to see you. How are you feeling?"

She touched the crown of her head, almost unconsciously. "Better. I'll check in with the doctor tomorrow."

The cloches were removed, to reveal one of her father's workday favorites: stuffed pasta shells in meat sauce. He sliced off a small bite. "I can't deny it's nice to have you home. I don't need you for Friday if you aren't feeling up to it."

She waved a hand. "I should be. Thanks."

He had finished half his meal when he wiped his mouth and reached for the leather binder. "Two things. First, you had a guest stay overnight."

Nancy's stomach dropped. No matter how careful she was, that was still a risk she had taken, and if she had judged him incorrectly, she could have put everyone in their House at risk. "Yes. He's been screened."

From the expression on her father's face, he was aware of the ways Ned had been screened. He held her gaze for a long moment, but didn't ask the question. He almost certainly didn't need to.

Then he slid two papers from his binder. "This was passed along to me this morning."

Nancy scanned the sheets he handed over. An email address with "Ned Nickerson" as the display name was conversing with another address, with "Ned" saying he had "the Second" right where he wanted her, and was nearly at a place where he could offer access and influence, for a price.

Nancy checked the dates, then looked up to see her father gazing at her.

"What do you think?"

She drew a long breath. "It's a gambit. He'll deny it, we fire him, and he's snatched up by the House who wants him."

"Who's been making overtures?"

She shrugged. "Take your pick. He's incredible at what he does. I'm sure if you have the originals of this, he'll have it tracked down within a day."

"Give it to the next best, if you can trust their discretion."

Nancy folded the paper and nodded.

"Is he? That close to you?"

Nancy glanced away. "He's been on the team for so many cases. He also knows I'm not going to be Second for long."

Her father's gaze was steady; at that, he smiled and glanced away. "Greatness thrust upon us, and all that. I know your heart's never been in this."

"I take after you."

Their business investments and ventures supported their work for poorer clients. That was how it had always been. Carson had married into the House and become its Prime without his ever expecting or seeking that role, once the line of succession had rapidly, tragically reached him. The union of Nancy's parents had been thanks to an alliance between their Houses; he had been developing his reputation even then, and his cache made him a good candidate. Nancy's mother had been an only child and her parents had wanted to see her make a strong choice.

Nancy hadn't questioned or regretted it. She couldn't regret her parents. But as soon as she had realized all that being Prime entailed, she had been equally sure that it would be miserable. She was very grateful that her father had chosen to marry again, because even then, even when she had been young, she had been both very capable and very frustrated at playing the part.

"You don't think some spurned former lover is responsible."

Nancy considered. "That person would be a formidable adversary," she said. "Someone who could wait this long to take her revenge, who's jealous of his current status. Not impossible."

"But unlikely. And I wasn't excluding you from that, either. Someone you've had a relationship with in the past who might want to destroy this one before it develops."

Nancy would be damned surprised if any of her past partners could have pulled this off. "Once Maury checks it out, I'll know more."

Carson took another few bites of his meal, then pushed it aside. "You're certain it's forged."

"Yes. I could see Ned running a triple agent play, but he would ask permission. His full name in the display is sloppy. They didn't want us to work for this."

Carson nodded once, slowly. "Do you think we have a double agent here?"

Nancy considered. "I think it's unlikely. The most likely suspect would be the source who provided this email exchange. Trying to show how helpful and useful they would be."

"The personality of whoever was posing as him, in these emails. Close to his? Markedly different?"

Nancy opened the papers and read them carefully again. "Someone could feed a bot a bunch of his writings and ask for something in his style," she replied. "But the contents just don't ring true."

Her father tapped his fingers on the surface of the desk a few times, glancing away, considering. "Either way, I don't like it. It makes me wonder what would happen if we didn't react. Another attempt?"

"What are you thinking?"

She knew him, so his next words weren't a surprise. "One option would be to appear to take the bait. Fire him. Flush the quarry out."

"Triple agent."

He nodded.

"Also: why now?"

Carson folded his arms. "He did stay with you last night. You had genetic screening run on him."

Nancy's heart started beating just a little faster. Maybe it would happen now. Maybe they would say what they hadn't quite. "That would imply someone who wanted to remove him from consideration, potentially to take his place, but it seems more likely that it's something he's working on, something that he especially might be able to decipher, or a distraction from something else we're working on."

"Tell me what you see as the likely candidates."

For the rest of their lunch, until he had to leave for the courtroom again, they discussed possible reasons for the timing. Nancy couldn't help it; while she was sometimes approached by supplicants wearing the white, that hadn't happened in a while. Frank would have been the most likely candidate for a jealous potential suitor who might want to discredit his rival—but she was having trouble imagining it. She and Frank just didn't have, and had never had, the relationship she and Ned had, and Frank would have allowed her to keep seeing Ned. That had always been understood. Any relationship between them would be political.

During their conversation, she was aware that her head was aching; after her father left, when Bess came in, she found Nancy with her head down on the table. She had sapped her reserves, and her brain felt like it was throbbing.

Bess made a low growling sound. "He knew better," she muttered.

Dimly she realized that Bess and George were helping her into a wheelchair; she considered protesting, but was just grateful that she wouldn't have to focus on how to navigate back to her rooms. Soon they were away from the main social areas of the compound, and the din of conversation and activity faded. Her room was cool and quiet and dim, and Nancy sank onto the bed, obeying Bess's brisk command to take a dose of medicine before she curled up and tried to sleep.

Her last thought was of Ned.

No, he wouldn't have done it. She would bet her life on it. The guy who had held her freezing cold body to his in the back of that car wouldn't have spoken that way about her. The phrasing wasn't quite his. The personality wasn't quite his.

She didn't want it to be him, but that was irrelevant, because it simply wasn't.

--

Ned checked his phone again, then sighed. He had delayed as long as he reasonably could, but there had been no message from Nancy.

He let himself register his disappointment. He didn't try to bury it or suppress it. He did want to be with her again tonight. Knowing that she didn't let anyone share her bed, and then sleeping with her beside him, that had been another milestone, another in the series of very small steps they were taking. The defenselessness of her asleep was almost more intimate than the sex had been.

He hadn't been able to help himself. He had imagined this becoming a regular occurrence, and it had been incredible.

He had just finished packing his bag to leave when two of the imposing, muscular members of the House security staff approached him. "Arms up," one told Ned, and he raised his hands immediately, his eyebrows going up when he was patted down. He had to turn out his pockets, and was asked to surrender his wallet, watch, and phone.

"Show me your IDs."

They obliged him immediately. Ned scanned one to confirm that it was legitimate.

Then, with ice water churning in his belly, he did as they asked.

"What's going on? Where are we going?" Ned asked, when he was instructed to accompany them.

"Prime wants to speak to you."

That sent a spike of adrenaline through him. Maybe Nancy's father was upset that Ned had stayed overnight. Maybe they thought...

He didn't know what they thought. He knew the surveillance measures in her private rooms were rarely engaged, so he doubted there was any sort of recording he could use to back an assertion that nothing untoward had happened.

But—he had been searched. It had been a long time since that had happened. The samples he provided had almost become routine, at this point. Patting him down to see if he was carrying any physical weapons felt like an insult.

But Ned also had never had a private audience with Nancy's father, so maybe this was the usual treatment.

There was nothing he could do, so Ned settled back for the ride. He had been to the courthouse area a few days earlier, and Prime generally worked out of that office, so he was unsurprised by the route they took. Bess had sent him one check-in message, which was the standard, but he itched to check his phone—not that he could, since one of the security staff was holding it.

They didn't grab Ned's arms and keep him firmly wedged between them, but they stayed close enough, and were big enough, that the threat was clear. He hadn't asked them about anything else; it didn't really matter, honestly. Prime would tell him when he arrived.

Ned could count the number of times he had been in Nancy's father's presence on one hand. While Ned almost always saw Nancy's father when Nancy herself was around, and thus was distracted, his impression of Carson Drew was that the man was constantly in motion. He was always on his way somewhere else, doing something important, and people listened to him and respected him. Carson Drew's name conveyed integrity, honesty, honor. He was a tenacious fighter, thorough, and courageous. He represented clients who couldn't pay him lavishly or grant him any social capital, and if those cases brought him in opposition to other powerful Houses, he didn't back down.

When Nancy talked about her father, it seemed more complicated, but of course it would be. He was protective of her, proud of her, supporting her efforts. And Ned was also bitterly, painfully aware that if Carson put any stock in the concept of family legacy, if he did insist on Nancy making an appropriate alliance with a powerful House, it would be in Carson's best interests to fire Ned and forbid him from contacting Nancy again.

So by the time they walked into the room, Ned was actively working to keep his demeanor calm and his anxiety contained. He bowed his head to the man who was, in effect, his Prime, since he was employed by Carson Drew's House. The man who would have every right to pity Ned for ever thinking he had a chance with Nancy.

"Please sit down." Carson gestured at one of the luxuriously padded and upholstered visitor's chairs before his massive, imposing desk, then took the other. The two security officers were waiting a few feet behind Ned, and Ned could feel their gazes boring into the back of his head.

"I received these this morning."

Carson handed over a few pieces of paper. Ned glanced over them, then read them thoroughly, his heart sinking.

It was a fucking nightmare. A move that seemed calculated to make Carson suspect that Ned was a threat to his House and his daughter, and a move that couldn't go unanswered.

Ned cleared his throat. "I realize the absurdity of protesting that I didn't send these, but I didn't."

Carson's gaze was intent on Ned. "What's your best guess for who did?"

Ned's lips turned up in a sardonic smile. "With—Nancy—on medical leave, the team has had some down time. At my previous job, I had a routine. I would check for failing equipment, redundancies that had crept in, processes that were slowing down the network. It's maintenance, but it can be tedious, and a lot of people like to just let it fall off the radar. Since I had a lot of nervous energy to burn off, I did one of those checks, and I heard about the Vault."

Carson nodded once, his gaze still on Ned's.

Carson took on many clients regarding sensitive matters that definitely weren't meant for public view. Company agreements, depositions, witness statements, information gathered while preparing for trial—the list went on and on. Carson also preferred physical records, printouts, handwritten notes, but his system needed a backup.

And so, at his courthouse office, a separate computer with a document scanner was kept in a keycard-entry room. Its internet access had been manually disabled, so no remote hacker would be able to gain access. Any files had to be created on that lone offline computer, stored there, and viewed there. That way, if anything happened to any of the paper copies, or if they needed to be destroyed, a digital backup existed. Software had been written to index the files based on specific keywords so sorting was easy. It was a step above a card catalog, and Ned had been charmed by the entire idea.

"The computer in there had to be checked on-site, since there's no network access. I made sure the diagnostics were clean and everything was running as expected, and did a few checks, because sometimes the reports might miss something, and no one wants the Vault setup to fail. I ran logs on the backups to make sure they were good.

"Everything looked good, so I went to the door, turned off the lights—and glanced back. And saw two reflected lights flashing near the floor close to the desk, so small that I wouldn't have seen them any other way."

"What was it?"

"What I'd missed, what everyone who had checked that system had missed, because they hadn't been expecting or looking for it—a network cord between that extremely offline computer and a slim drive that was tucked under the desk. The backup drives are plugged directly into that computer, so that even if one drive fails, copies will exist and the data can be restored. But none of those are network drives.

"The mystery drive was dusty and looked like it hadn't been touched in a long time, but it was still active. I checked the Vault computer, and the drive's name and address didn't match any I had listed as being in use. Still, these things happen. Records aren't updated, there's staff turnover, people forget things. I was also imagining that possibly that drive had been set up specifically to push system patches and updates to the offline computer, but I hadn't been told there was anything like that, and that would have potentially compromised the security of the system.

"So I checked the logs. That slim drive was responding to regular network pings. It was... basically it was saying 'yes, this secret entrance is still unlocked.'"

"And you disconnected it."

"I wore gloves in case there were any fingerprints, and I disconnected it."

"Disconnecting it meant that the message broadcasting the presence of that secret entrance—stopped."

Ned opened his mouth, closed it, then nodded. The understanding was close enough for a layman. "Generally, yes."

Carson glanced away, and Ned would have slumped in relief if he weren't so keyed up. "So there was a breach. Did you confirm?"

Ned shook his head. "Jack's been here longer than I have, and he has the most in-depth knowledge of the system. First, I needed to confirm that this was a breach, and this," he nodded at the printed email, "points to yes. Second, we're going through the logs to see when it was set up."

"To see who could have done it." Carson sighed and sat back.

"By now, whoever was monitoring it knows that, at minimum, it was unplugged. This could be an attempt to get you to suspect me for it. After all, if you thought I was a spy…"

Carson was clearly thinking through the possible enormity of the breach. He had Jack summoned, and Jack brought as much of the report as he had finished at the time. He had been hoping to deliver a name, a House, something. He hadn't quite made it that far, but he was able to talk about some potential candidates. He also apologized profusely for the breach.

Ned would have done the same, in his position. It had been an oversight born of complacency. They had made the Vault as secure as they could. Ned had assisted on missions that had involved breaking into "very secure" systems. None of them had yet found an entirely foolproof system.

At least Jack had confirmed that the drive's records indicated it had been running before Ned had been hired by the House. Of course that didn't mean that Ned was in the clear, but Nancy had been the one to offer him work, not the other way around.

Ned was released soon after midnight, his belongings returned, but he was still feeling troubled. He sent Bess a message immediately.

Is she resting?

Has been all afternoon, Bess reported. You okay?

Ned just couldn't shake the premonition. Someone wanted to separate him from Nancy. So he didn't intend on letting that happen, not if he could help it.

--

"Morning."

Nancy had slept terribly. She had given in and taken a sedative when nothing else touched her headache, which she hated, and her dreams after had been strange and unnerving. She still felt sore now.

"Do you want me to send for the doctor?"

"Mmm." Nancy covered her face with her hands. "I think the best thing will be tracking down whoever sent the email."

Bess's eyes narrowed. "You are not supposed to be stressing yourself out. Prime is on it. He will handle it."

Nancy frowned. "Someone's trying to frame Ned."

Bess's expression changed. "Ah."

Even though she didn't plan to go anywhere, Nancy still brushed her teeth and washed her face, put on fresh clothes, ordered toast and fruit for breakfast. While she was waiting, Bess sat down.

"He slept here."

Nancy's eyes widened, and she glanced at the bed questioningly.

Bess shook her head. "On a cot in the hallway. Beside your door. He was worried for your safety."

Nancy opened and closed her mouth. "I…"

"I know. I tried to tell him that you being attacked was…" Bess gestured widely. "As likely as vampires being real. Dammit." She sighed in feigned disappointment. "But he insisted."

"Is he still out there?"

Bess shook her head. "He didn't even get here until after midnight. George told me Prime called him in last night for a chat."

Her head was aching again. She cursed the car accident, her concussion, the House that was responsible, all of it. Someone was coming after her Ned, and she—

Hers.

Ned was hers, whether or not she wanted him to be.

Nancy kept returning to the idea for the rest of the day. Ned checked in with Bess, who let Nancy know—and then Bess vanished for the better part of an hour. Nancy was trying to stay calm in her bed, since the doctor was going to check her out and see if she could safely return to most of her normal activities, but Bess's disappearance on top of the strange email conversation her father had shown her and Ned's behavior was making Nancy anxious. She wanted to do something. That was what she always did. Feeling powerless made her furious.

Nancy had on the cooling sleep mask Ned had given her when she heard Bess come back in, and she had to force herself not to rip it off in exasperation. Bess was humming quietly, and Nancy slowly shoved the mask up. The room was dim, and only one lamp was lit, to keep her from developing another monstrous headache. Bess had only been joking a little when she had said her impulse was to ban Prime from another visit or overstimulating call.

Bess bit her lip when Nancy looked at her.

"It'll stress me out more if you don't tell me," Nancy said, narrowing her eyes.

Bess blew out a breath, then sat down at the edge of Nancy's bed. "Remember that Australian guy a few years ago? He tried out but didn't make it—"

"Yes. The one you swore would ask me out." He had, as a matter of fact. He'd had no idea that she only took submissive partners and his come-ons were clumsy to the point of hilarity. If Bess had been at all interested, Nancy might have considered pointing him in her direction.

And maybe he was, had been, a good guy. Maybe. Under all the layers of charm and confidence and swagger, it was possible. It was just unlikely, in Nancy's experience. So she had used her favorite methods: ignoring him or intentionally misinterpreting his provocative statements until he left her alone. If he had persisted, she would have found a way to use some judo on him before George did.

"Like four days ago, Ned found a server in the Vault."

Nancy's eyes widened. "That doesn't make sense."

Bess cocked her finger at Nancy. "It does if someone was using it to monitor what was on that computer."

Nancy stared at Bess. She reached for the covers.

Bess glared at her. "Don't make me smack your hand. Let me finish."

Nancy huffed. "Of all the damn times to have a concussion."

Bess nodded. "It's the worst. Anyway. They found a partial fingerprint that's apparently from that Australian guy on the server. Based on the dust, it was from around the time it was probably hooked up."

Nancy glanced away, thinking, aware that she was practically demanding another headache. "He was only here for, what, two weeks?"

"He washed out pretty quick," Bess agreed. "And now it looks like that might have been intentional, or he was just that much of an idiot. His references were good. I guess once they were pretty sure that the setup was going to work, he didn't need to be here."

"But—it's been years."

Bess nodded. "And they're still trying to figure out exactly how much could have been, or was, stolen."

"And Ned was the one who found it. So—is it that they're trying to completely undercut his credibility? Say that he's pretending he found the server to get some brownie points, just trying to ingratiate himself further?"

Bess spread her arms in an expansive shrug. "Just to remind you: you are absolutely forbidden from thinking about it. Maury's been looking into the email. The staff is doing a very thorough check and inventory of everything, to make sure nothing else made it in."

Nancy groaned. "You're probably gonna have to put me into an induced coma. This is—" She cried out in frustration.

Bess nodded, her expression solemn. "I know. I did seriously consider asking if I could borrow some horse tranquilizer before I came back in here."

"Who hired him?"

Bess shrugged again. "There are several people on staff who would like to ask him, though."

Nancy ran her hand over her hair. "I don't like it. Something's missing."

"A lot is missing," Bess replied, then held her hands up when Nancy whipped around to stare at her. "Not like that. Just missing pieces. George feels the same way you do. And neither of us wants you to have to sit here another week like a screaming pressure cooker, so calm down. Otherwise that dinner on Friday is definitely off."

"You say that like it's a treat," Nancy grumbled.

"Hey. Once the doctor clears you, I'll be the first to recommend that you get Ned back in here so you can work off some steam. In every sense of that word."

Nancy gently rubbed her forehead. "Ned spends the night here and suddenly everything explodes."

"Well. Almost everything."

Nancy flipped her off without even bothering to glance over. "I don't know. You said he was worried about my safety. Mick, the Australian guy—"

"So you do remember his name. I wasn't sure." Bess paused for a beat. "Did he ask you out?"

"Yeah. Idiot."

Bess snorted. "You think maybe the idiot routine was an act?"

"Maybe. Maybe it's all connected. The car accident, the 'leaked' email, the server. The car accident was more than a warning. The email is a warning." Nancy met Bess's gaze. "Maybe Ned isn't wrong. If his staying over has anything to do with it, maybe he is being watched. Maybe there's surveillance on his apartment."

"Why?"

Nancy shrugged. "We could have surveillance going on all of us. We already do, in-house, really. It's a deviation in routine."

"So was his staying over before your last trip."

"Maybe that put everything in motion. Dad said maybe a jealous ex-lover."

"Ned's, or yours?"

"Whichever, this level of manipulation is pretty disturbing. If they see it hasn't worked, there might be another attempt to frame him." Nancy smacked the bed with her palm a few times. "And if Ned's sleeping on a cot in the hallway, he's on surveillance. Have him escorted here. Eyes on him at all times, either another member of staff or security cameras."

"What are you thinking?"

Nancy shook her head, damning the growing headache. "That I don't know the endgame," she said soberly. "That if he's the most important piece and I need to get him out of the way, a nice murder frame would do it. Make him look unstable. If he's cut loose from our House, he loses access to counsel, to all of it. Keep him off balance."

Bess was holding her palms up again. "Nancy…"

Nancy waved a hand. "Desperation and blackmail. An unscrupulous House would use it to catch him. Permanent threat to keep him in line."

Bess took a slow breath and let it out. "More than that, if Prime is put on the bench, imagine what the wrong person could do with the information from his files."

Nancy gazed at Bess, wide-eyed. Her father didn't keep extensive files on Nancy's cases—Nancy handled that herself—but he had been involved before. He had represented clients, helped exonerate or negotiated plea deals for clients, who hadn't exactly led saintly lives. Nancy herself didn't even know the full extent of it. A breach of that magnitude, if whoever had directed the server installation had managed to steal much of the information...

It wouldn't just torpedo a potential judgeship. It would challenge any faith anyone had in Carson as an attorney.

"Mutually assured destruction," she murmured. If they found the House responsible, any attempt at retaliation might blow back. They needed to, dammit, get someone else involved.

Bess growled quietly. "I see you thinking. Stop it."

Nancy ran her hand over her hair. She couldn't go behind her father's back on this, as much as she wanted to. "I need to talk to Dad. As soon as possible."

--

Ned could feel the weight of gazes on his back. He didn't like it. The space between his shoulder blades kept twitching, like a laser sight was touching it.

"Relax," George's voice purred in the virtually invisible receiver in Ned's ear. "They would go for the back of the neck. You'd barely feel it."

"Thanks," Ned muttered.

The drop had been set for the food court, and to make his visit seem perfectly innocent, Ned stopped by a nearby shop and picked up a few generic body lotions that the cashier recommended, then took a deep breath and waded into the throng. Tourists had crowded the area, along with local office workers rushing through the line to take a breath before bolting down a quick meal, and the atmosphere was perfect chaos. Ned walked past a cinnamon bun stand, a taco stand, a Chinese food shop. The Everything Bagel was just ahead.

A man casually joined the line behind Ned. "Haven't seen you since that volcano party."

Ned turned sideways; the line was moving slowly enough that they could probably pull this off pretty quickly. "That's been a while. How have you been?"

The other man shrugged. "Can't complain."

He was about Ned's height, with dark hair and a keen gaze. He seemed confident and intelligent and a little impatient, and he carried himself with the casual arrogance that Ned always associated with Houses. Not the kind of man who would be in line for his own food. Not the kind of man who could easily blend into a crowd of common workers—although he was trying.

For her part, Nancy didn't try. Maybe because so many of the villains she pursued underestimated her already.

"I heard that you might have an in at a company I've been trying to get an interview with for ages now."

The other man raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Let me give you my card. Give me a call and we'll see if we know some people."

Ned pulled a business card out of his pocket; at least, that was what anyone looking on would see. The other man took it, glanced at it, then pocketed it.

The pass was done. Ned relaxed slightly.

"Sounds great. You free around, say, nine tonight?"

"Should be. You know how it is."

Ned ordered a pizza bagel and expected the other man to stumble in his order, but he just ordered the first bagel listed, sounding utterly bored at the whole thing. Ned produced cash easily; the other man handled it like something faintly unfamiliar.

He had been born to social status, wealth, privilege, safety. He was of Nancy's class. The man who, under other circumstances, would have married her. He was handsome, and Prime trusted him enough to give him such damning information about the breach their House had suffered.

And yet he hadn't wanted her. He would have let her claim someone else. Ned found it unimaginable.

"Please give your Second my best," the other man said, as Ned picked up his order. "I'm sure she already knows, but the wedding invitation is in the mail."

Ned nodded once, wondering if that was some obscure part of their code that no one had bothered to tell him about.

George, who was listening in, chuckled. "She does already know."

So it was real. Ned made a soft inquisitive sound as he strode away from the food court.

"Frank's fallen for the Second of the Shaw House. It's a useless match, politically. Her House deals in biotechnology and research."

"Hmm."

"Don't worry," George told Ned. "In that way, anyway, you never had anything to worry about."

Ned took the train back uptown, feeling absurdly like he was wearing the costume of his old life. It was still his life, in some ways. He felt reluctant to leave the compound while Nancy was still suffering the effects of the concussion, but on the weekends, around his friends, this was who he was. But it had been a while since he had ventured out like this. Working for Nancy's House had separated him from a lot of daily inconvenience.

Bess came by to visit his desk when he had been back at the main office for an hour. She fished around in the brown paper bag and pulled out one of the lotion bottles.

"You're welcome to it."

Bess shook her head as she dropped it back into the bag. "You're adorable. Give this to your cousin or something. It's basic as hell."

Ned shrugged. He heard the subtext, that it was a gift unworthy of the woman he loved. "I didn't have time to grill the clerk on what you'd like."

"She would have laughed in your face and directed you to Macroix. Did you not listen when I sent you for treatment?"

"They didn't tell me what they were putting on me, and I didn't ask."

"Well, believe me, it definitely was more than twenty bucks a bottle." Bess crossed her arms.

"Does Nancy want an update?"

"We all do," Bess replied.

"He's getting married."

Bess's expression changed slightly, and she dropped into the chair beside his desk. "You thought he was still in the running."

Ned met her gaze. "He's a Second."

"And I told you. She never had any interest in marrying him."

"She has no interest in marrying. A political alliance is something else." He shrugged slightly, trying to stop himself from getting upset. "I don't know."

Bess dropped her voice. "She's never slept with—beside—any other partner before. And she did that with you."

Ned's eyes widened briefly.

Bess smiled. "So. Give her time."

"Always. I don't..." He sighed and rubbed his damp palms over his jeans. "The thought of losing all this, of Prime thinking I might have something to do with it... it's gotten to me."

Bess nodded. "And how many job offers have come in since?"

Ned snickered. "Two. There are six Houses who have made me offers since I came to work here."

"And you passed that along."

"Of course. I understand why someone else needed to be involved. I just hate that it had to be someone who's second-best."

Bess laughed, a wicked edge to it. "Careful there. You're talking about the House of Prime's best friend."

"And you think I haven't looked them up?"

Bess propped her chin on her hand. "Touché. I can definitely see you looking them up."

Ned rubbed the back of his neck. "I want to say that I understand it, but I can't," he said. "I can understand her turning him down. She's a much better investigator and her professional interests don't overlap with his all that much. She's impatient. Maybe on paper, together they would make a more versatile agency, since they could handle a wider variety of cases.

"But he didn't want her."

"Frank's ambitious. He will be Prime. His partner will be expected to fill the social role corresponding to his." Bess kept her gaze on his face, and he sensed that she was doing something as alien as describing the air around her. This knowledge was bone-deep for her, and so far above his station that it seemed fictional. "Nancy doesn't want to be Prime. She's made that as clear as she can to her father. She does her duties. But he allows her a lot of lenience. Frank wouldn't. Nancy would be miserable."

"So he found someone who could be that partner."

"And I wish them all the happiness. As long as his relationship with Nancy stays friendly, we'll be fine. As you said, there's not a lot of overlap in the kinds of cases they take." Bess paused. "Frank sees himself as the dashing, suave secret agent, who can blend in and do spycraft and all that garbage. Nancy sees puzzles and people who need her help. Putting on some secret identity isn't her."

"And it isn't Frank, either," Ned commented, before he caught himself.

Bess grinned. "I like you," she said. "I probably shouldn't say it. If you had a brother, I'd snatch him up in a minute. She knows that this is all some kind of tangled mess targeting you, and Prime is smart. You're not in danger. Trust me."

Ned searched her gaze. "How are you so sure?"

"Let me take you out for a drink and tell you a little story about an Australian idiot named Mick."

Nancy was standing in front of the full-sized mirror when Bess walked in.

Bess paused, keeping her expression impassive. Nancy would snarl if she made a comment—although Bess often did so anyway—and she didn't want anything to interfere with Nancy's current choice.

Bess had selected three gowns for Nancy to consider and likely reject for the evening. Nancy's tastes were utilitarian; whenever she could get away with it, she wore pants that allowed her a normal range of motion, shoes that wouldn't put her at a disadvantage, and the least flattering bras possible. Bess had grudgingly added a black jumpsuit with a rhinestone buckle to Nancy's closet, and Nancy had come as close as she could to passing approval on it.

But hope sprung eternal, and so: the gowns.

The first would have turned everyone's heads. Encrusted with sparkling embellishments, a mermaid hem, strapless top, aqua with a geometric gold design on the bodice. It would have suited Nancy's coloring perfectly, as Bess always attempted to do when selecting outfits. It was the opposite of her typical style, but Bess lived for that. She kept hoping that when the next concussion came—she didn't wish it, she just accepted its inevitability—any personality change might make Nancy just a little more interested in fashion.

The second was floor-length, in metallic champagne material that was gathered at one hip, with cape sleeves; Nancy would have looked like a severe, unforgiving future space commander in it. Bess had honestly thought if she chose any of them, it would be that one. When Nancy couldn't dress all in black and glower at people, a look that could briskly announce "icy future space commander" felt like a good compromise.

But Nancy wore the third. It was floor-length and one-shoulder, the top swooping down to leave her other arm and shoulder entirely bare. The fabric, faintly shimmering, was the deepest shade of Caribbean blue, very nearly teal, and the slit in the skirt went above her knee. It was a nice balance between the frivolous fantasy prom dress and the future space commander look.

Nancy frowned. "I should..."

"You should wear it," Bess replied, crossing to her. "Look how it sets off your eyes. You look great!"

Nancy sighed and tried an experimental kick. Bess heroically refrained from rolling her eyes. It wasn't unheard of for Nancy to fend off terrorists or kidnappers at these events, but it also wasn't exactly expected.

"I guess it'll work."

Bess wouldn't be a guest; she would be allowed to peek in, and she had to be dressed appropriately in case Nancy needed her for some sartorial emergency. Most of the time, Bess was given the night off, and if she came along, it was solely because she wanted to soak in the ambiance of a House event, to check out the styles, and to see who was talking, or not talking, to whom.

So she wore a black pencil skirt and a silk blouse with sleeves so puffed they very nearly passed for mutton-chop, with her hair in a waterfall braid and earrings that nearly brushed her shoulders and heels that did absolute wonders for her ass. The dinner was at an ultra-exclusive hall, the kind that only handled House events, at wildly inflated prices. 

George wore her typical uniform of unrelieved black, and her hair was freshly trimmed. She glanced over when Bess joined her at the edge of the hall.

"Hardy Second and his brother just arrived," George murmured, just loud enough for Bess to hear.

Bess fanned herself. "I really think I have a shot with Joe."

George smirked. "You and every other straight twenty-something in a hundred-mile radius."

Bess shrugged. "So good odds, then."

The hall was lined with tinted bulletproof glass that provided an excellent view of the skyline, the minute bright chips of lit windows. Soft unobtrusive music drifted from the corner, where a string trio was bent over their work, their gazes abstracted. The median age of the group was twenty years older than Bess, and much of the expertly-styled hair was peppered, silver and gray, swept with striking black. The few guests who were near Bess's age were mostly like her: working support or security for the gathered crème de la crème.

"Any other fishy shit?"

George did another visual sweep, staring intently at one server, before she shook her head. "I mean, there are…"

"The usual." Houses that had opposed Bess and George's employers' on something, sparking a light or genuine rivalry that stretched beyond snarky comments. Bess kept abreast of it because it was her job to keep Nancy's social calendar, and her research translated to threat assessment for George. Maybe Carson winning a contentious case five years ago wouldn't mean a lunch date could turn into a firefight, but it was their job to anticipate it. And then Nancy had started making her own enemies, and that had complicated everything even more.

Frank Hardy strode in, prompting a sudden lapse in conversation that became a buzz of interest, because he clearly wasn't attending as a regular guest. Joe was by his side, and a federal agent was just beside them.

Bess crossed her arms. Feds meant House crimes. Because most of them considered themselves above the law, were ready and willing to bribe or blackmail their way out of it, different rules applied. Local cops practically served as House security when asked, even though their allegiance was always seen as temporary and situational.

Frank strode over to a very well-respected judge whose House had been close to theirs for longer than Bess and George had been a part of it. George's spine stiffened, and Bess gasped quietly, riveted.

"Think it was him?"

Everyone around them was watching while pretending not to, and the judge tried to play it off; the fed gave the standard "need to ask you a few questions," and Prime's expression was granite-hard. Maybe he had been tipped off. Bess hadn't even begun to relax, although the judge, protesting that it all had to be some foolish misunderstanding, was being led away—

And a woman wearing the servers' whites, with long brown hair and golden-amber eyes, took a step toward Nancy while slowly bringing her arm up.

At once, Ned stepped between Nancy and the brown-haired woman, and Andey drew her weapon. George's was already out.

Because she was watching for it, Bess saw the glance between Nancy and Ned, as the would-be attacker was led away.

"Finally," Bess murmured.

George cast a quick glance at Bess before moving forward to take Andey's place. "It'll be within the week."

"Deal."

--

The empty cot was in the hallway.

Nancy sat down in the plush armchair beside her desk and covered her face with her hands.

Paula, the woman who had disguised herself as a server and tried to attack Nancy, had blamed Carson for the death of her own father after he had been convicted of embezzlement and imprisoned. She had bided her time for years, and when the car crash had failed to kill Nancy, Paula had decided to take things into her own hands.

She hadn't wanted to kill Carson. She had wanted him to understand her grief and rage by experiencing it over the loss of his daughter.

So Ned had been right. Her life had been in more immediate danger than she had thought, and he had put himself between her and the threat.

The judge had gambled himself into a hole, and the people who held his debts had asked for a simple, minor favor: infiltrating Carson Drew's private files. Apparently one of Carson's cases had come too close to uncovering their scheme for comfort, and they had wanted to continue defrauding city government for a long, long time. With enough time and enough information, they had been sure they could find a way to blackmail Carson. In the meantime, they would know if he were getting too close.

And someone with Ned's skills, if he were let go, would be invaluable to their operation.

It wasn't the worst week of her life, and at least she wasn't feeling so exhausted and utterly destroyed by her concussion anymore, but if she had been clear-headed, and fully herself—

Well. She wasn't sure if she would have figured it out in time, even given that. She had been too young to be aware of the embezzlement case, and the judge—he was her father's friend, and a man Nancy had trusted and loved for a long time. Apparently his wife's death had hit him harder than any of them had realized, and sent him spiraling into the path of some opportunistic parasites.

Her father... he was bruised tonight, spending time with his wife. In the morning he and Nancy would each be again who they always had been: strong, resolved, unbent. In the morning they would be remade.

The same people who had managed to get their claws into a House leader had set their sights on Ned, knowing that they could trade his skills for influence.

Nancy had always hated public events; tonight had made her think that reconsidering their security was well overdue, that an embassy dinner wasn't worth some disgruntled former courtroom opponent finding her father in an unguarded moment and attacking him. She had started drafting an agenda for a security overhaul meeting while in the shower, washing off the sweat of the chaotic evening.

She had put off thinking about it until it had become absolutely unsustainable.

When she heard the tap at the door, she stood, her heart beating a little faster. She retied the belt of her robe, then opened the door.

Ned was standing there.

Their gazes met and locked, and she couldn't look away. Not for anything.

She swung back, gesturing him inside, and he entered immediately. Nancy closed the door and felt the edge of the satin sash glide down her forearm.

Ned dropped to his knees.

Nancy swallowed. "Had circumstances permitted, I would have called you back before now."

He bowed his head slightly.

"What would you offer tonight?"

He had to know it was a test. He brought his head up, met her gaze for a moment, then moved to close the distance between them. He nuzzled aside the loose robe and planted an open-mouthed kiss just beneath her belly button that nearly made her knees weak.

Then he leaned back and held up his hand, fingers spread slightly.

She regarded him for a few seconds, then gestured for him to rise. Then she matched her hand to his. His palm was larger, his fingers larger and longer.

She turned her wrist a bit and laced her fingers between his.

She felt him tense slightly as he processed what that meant, and then he clasped her hand.

"Before we begin," she said, and pointed to the bathroom. "Relieve your tension."

His eyebrows rose briefly, but he obeyed her without asking any questions.

It didn't take long, but she hadn't expected it to. When Ned returned, she was naked, on the bed, legs open, waiting for him.

He crossed to her, gazing at her, then moved the chair. "I love you," he murmured, sliding a knee onto the bed. "I'm so glad you're all right."

He kissed her ankle, nuzzled her calf, brushed his lips over her knee. He caressed her, taking his time with it as he trailed kisses over her other leg, and when his tongue first traced over her clit, she arched her hips with a soft gasp.

God. She didn't need anyone, she prided herself on being as independent as she possibly could be, but this—Jesus. No one else she'd ever had could touch how incredible he was at this, and he—

He was learning how to read her, the way she shifted, the soft hitches in her breathing. He didn't make it rough, seeking to bring her to a rapid, shallow orgasm. Instead he drew it out, building it up so that when she finally reached the peak of her pleasure, when she was blind and senseless, his hands on her breasts, her fingers buried in his hair to hold his head between her legs, her hips thrusting in response to the drag of his chin over her tender flesh, she was pretty sure that she screamed.

If only he could always have this much control.

Her hand dropped, releasing him, and he rested his head on her inner thigh. Even the weight of his breath against her flushed, sensitive sex was too much.

Then he pushed himself up and moved beside her. She was calming down, but God, it felt so good to relax, to think about anything else.

He was still fully clothed.

A part of her was trying to sink back into her usual pessimism, but what was between them was more terrifying. He was learning her. He was incredible. And the last thing she needed in the world was to crave a pet. Pets were to be used when the pent-up tension was undeniable, and that was all.

She moved onto her side to face him, then slid her fingers into his hair and drew him to her for a kiss.

He wasn't about to come out of his skin with need; she had made sure of that, as disappointing as it was. One day, with any luck, he would learn to master himself better.

He returned her kisses, matching her pressure, her rhythm, letting her keep the lead. He really was starting to understand, trying to match her expectations.

She had never really let herself imagine this. She had never really thought it was likely for her, and especially not with him or anyone like him. It shouldn't have worked.

And yet.

She twined herself around him, and she could feel his heart pounding as she stroked her tongue against his. He rolled onto his back and slid his fingers into her hair, and their kisses became deep and hungry.

Maybe it didn't matter how long it would take for him to recover. She could use her toy in the meantime.

She broke the kiss and brushed her lips over his earlobe, then nuzzled the sensitive hollow behind, and felt him shiver. She trailed slow kisses down his neck, over his collarbone, his breastbone, as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

This was something else she hadn't done. This was part of what it would mean to…

Well. For some mistresses, this was possession, and she did feel possessive of him. She didn't want him with anyone else. She wanted him wholly, fully hers.

She caressed him, stroked her palms over his chest, skimmed them down his hips. She kissed the plane of flesh just beneath his belly button, flicked her tongue over the trail of hair that began there, and heard him exhale.

His fingertips brushed the crown of her head as she unfastened his fly. She glanced up. He was sitting up, and together they stripped off his pants and underwear.

She wrapped herself around him, kissing him deeply, and he held her, his fingers combing through her hair. Her knees were planted on either side of his hips, and she arched her back, groaning softly as her tender nipples brushed over his chest.

She had never held another this way. She was starting to understand that she had never let herself become this attached before, as much as she tried to fight it, as much as she had denied it to herself, to him.

He was aroused and so was she, but they kissed and kissed, pausing to breathe and caress and nuzzle at each other, to tug at earlobes and nip at damp skin. She had given him permission, and a part of her needed to know. Some of submissive behavior could be taught, but some of it was beyond teaching. If he could match her, be her partner in this—

The satisfaction of it, when she mounted him, was so immense that she moaned. She shifted her weight to control her strokes and he moved too, letting her change her angle—

He groaned and she didn't bother hiding her smile as she saw the rapture on his handsome face. "So good," she breathed. "Oh, so fucking good. Yes—"

Her clit was already sensitive, and the texture of him against it as she fucked him was so good, but then he managed to slide his hand between them. She sucked in a breath as he flicked the slick nub for the first time, and he was already breathing hard.

She would be glad when he was trained, but for now, she was warmed by the knowledge that he was hard again for her, that he wanted her so much. Men were so delicate.

"Slow, slow," she murmured, and their gazes locked. He smiled slowly, still almost panting. "Shh."

He nodded, and they gazed at each other as she began to build her rhythm, as he matched her. "Nancy," he whispered, hushed and breathless as a prayer.

He didn't urge her to completion this time. He stayed with her, and when she began to come, he needed only a nod to join her, with a groan of relief.

She sank to him, her head on his shoulder as she slowed her breathing. She was still trembling some and so was he, as he stroked her back.

"I'm sorry we had to take a break in your training."

"I'll work very hard to catch up."

She nipped at his neck. "You deserve me at my best, and I haven't been."

He stroked her cheek, then nuzzled against her. "No," he murmured. "I don't deserve you at all. I deserve that cot in your hallway. My place is at your feet. I would worship you every night with all I am, and this… is beyond anything I could have imagined."

Nancy thought of Bess commenting that Ned wanted to serve as her personal sex toy, and pulled back—but the teasing remark died on her lips. Maybe there had been a time that his words would have been ironic, but his dark eyes shone with sincerity, and wariness.

He loved her. Maybe he didn't insist on her repeating it, but one day, probably soon, her silence would break this.

He doesn't trust me.

And if she didn't earn his trust, then she didn't deserve him.

She stroked his cheek, then tipped her head up. He kissed her, slow and sweet. When they parted, she held his gaze.

"Stay with me," she said. "Tonight. If you want."

In answer he leaned down and kissed her again.

Ned had checked everything. Anything that needed confirming had been confirmed.

He still felt anxious. Maybe because when he was tired or giddy, this all still felt like a dream.

When the message came through, he descended to the lobby and found his parents standing under the awning in front of his apartment building. A fine mist hung in the air, shattering the glow of the streetlights into blurred halos, dampening horns and sirens. They each had a bag, and immediately they wrapped him in a warm hug.

Ned closed his eyes and returned it. His work meant he didn't see them as often as he liked, and he didn't see that changing anytime soon.

He took their bags and, over their bewildered protests, loaded them into the trunk of his car, saying that they would bring them up after dinner. The car was his same old reliable one; he had the money to upgrade, but given how often he was traveling, how often he was in House transportation, it hardly seemed worth it. Hell, when he had first moved to the city, even having a car and paying for parking had felt like a ridiculous expense, one he paid only so he could easily travel home to visit his parents.

Because it was their anniversary, and because one of their friends had spoken so highly of it, Ned had gotten them tickets to a dinner theater as a surprise. They were thrilled by all of it, and Ned, watching them, was just as happy. He was sure Nancy was all right; George was on duty tonight, and Nancy didn't have any other plans, so with any luck she would stay home.

Ned didn't let himself imagine her being a part of their group, because that wasn't who she was, but he thought that in another life, she could have enjoyed it.

His parents were exhilarated when they left. The mist had become rain, but the storm had passed, leaving the streets gleaming black and the traffic a perpetual hush. "I want to say that you shouldn't have, but I loved it too much," his mother said, beaming. "That was such a wonderful present."

"It was even better than I thought it would be," Ned's father said.

Ned smiled. "I really liked it too. And I know you two are tired."

"It's definitely a later night than we usually have," Ned's father chuckled.

Instead of taking them back to his apartment, as they were expecting, Ned pulled up in front of a small, luxurious hotel a few blocks away from the dinner theater. The bellhop materialized almost immediately and took their bags.

"What...?" Ned's mother asked, gazing at Ned.

"The rest of your present," Ned said, smiling. "The room is really nice; I checked you in and made sure everything looked good. You're prepaid for a couples' package, so check out what they have and see what you'd like. You're close to shopping and some really nice restaurants. If you want to meet for brunch or dinner tomorrow..."

Ned's mother's eyes were shining. "Oh, sweetheart," she murmured, and gave his hand a squeeze.

"This is..." Ned's father shook his head. "Very thoughtful."

It had been very expensive, far more expensive than his parents would have even contemplated, but ever since Ned had started to work for Nancy's House, his account had just kept expanding. His parents had sacrificed a lot for him. This felt like a small way to show how grateful he was.

After they agreed to connect and probably meet for lunch, Ned drove to the city compound. He was just sliding out of his car when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Got that one.

Three days earlier, Bess had been looking up information about a venue that was on Nancy's calendar when she ran across an unusual post. Something about it had made her just a little nervous, and the rule was always to pass those things along, just in case.

And that was how Maury and Ned had come across some coded posts seeking employees who were or had been working there.

Ned had been around Nancy long enough; he knew she had enemies, and had seen how she made enemies. She was ruthless and the cache of other influential House members did nothing to dissuade her. She went after people who routinely abused and mistreated—

Well. People like his parents. People who didn't have the power, money, and influence to fight back.

So Ned and Maury had worked on finding out who was behind the posts and why, and had stumbled onto something nasty. Just like Paula had, people who intended harm to House members might be employed as staff at a large venue, knowing that a thorough vetting of every member of a large team was unlikely, knowing that the scrutiny would be far lower than trying to infiltrate House staff. Maury's message meant he'd had a breakthrough.

Ned, knowing that he was being entirely irrational, would have happily seconded George's suggestion that Nancy just make things simpler for all of them and not leave the house. But he also knew her and how she would receive such a suggestion. Just keeping her home while she had recovered from her concussion had been enough of an ordeal.

So he would take the small victory. One less person who would threaten the woman he loved.

She wasn't in her room; he could tell at a glance, because no security staff was waiting just outside. Ned took the opportunity to change out of the button-down and slacks he had worn to meet his parents, then considered the next most likely place.

He found her ten minutes later, sparring with George. When she had down time between cases, she had a lot of nervous energy to work off, so he couldn't say he was all that surprised. They were practicing judo holds, and they were both gleaming with sweat.

Ned leaned against the wall, just watching.

She was so strong, his mistress. She was graceful and powerful. She and George were careful with each other, but they also took their training seriously. He watched George flip Nancy onto the mat, then saw Nancy get the upper hand during the next set and flip George with a triumphant cry.

Ned waited. His time with Nancy had taught him more patience than anything else, and just watching her like this was rare. She and George sparred for fifteen more minutes, occasionally exchanging rapid joking insults, but they were absorbed in their competition, and Ned went unobserved.

He didn't mind it. She was happy, and it was a joy to see her that way.

Once they were finished, Nancy picked up her towel and scrubbed it over her glowing face, then looked over and saw Ned. Their gazes met, and he saw the lines of her face soften a little before she gave him a slight nod.

So she wanted him tonight.

Ned never assumed. While they weren't official, she was his only partner, and as she had often told him, she barely had time for one—and he was that one. They had their own separate spaces.

But they had shared her bed more often than they hadn't, for the past two weeks. Ever since the night of the attack.

"Did Maury update you?"

They walked together back toward her rooms, and she nodded, wiping her jaw with the towel draped over her shoulder. "It's going to be a hassle to vet the staff of every venue I'm invited to visit."

Ned shrugged. "It's also an opportunity," he pointed out. "For the right agency, anyway."

"An 'all-clear, every staff member has been fully investigated' seal." Nancy considered. "Definitely the kind of thing other Houses would pay a premium for, until it just became standard practice."

"If only."

At her room, she headed to the shower while Ned checked his phone. His parents had sent a photo of the two of them in their hotel room, both grinning.

Tonight has been the best present. We love you.

He smiled and put the phone away.

By the time Nancy came back into the room, her hair a little damp but mostly dry, wrapped in her black robe, Ned wore his own robe. It had been left in his room, brand-new, a few days ago, and Nancy had smiled when he had worn it to bed that night.

She crossed to him, and after a beat, Ned dropped to his knees.

Dimly he was aware that this would have been unimaginable with anyone else. But she wanted this, and for the first time in his life, he was allowed to show a woman he cared about just how much he adored her—and she basked in it. She didn't see him as weak or pathetic.

She ran her fingers through his hair. "I'm tired, my pet," she murmured. "Pleasure me."

"Always," he replied.

She tossed her robe over the nearby chair and laid down on her bed, her legs open. Her lashes were low.

And she did seem tired. She pushed herself to the limits of her endurance often, even when she wasn't on cases, preparing herself for as much as she could.

Ned stood and came to her. He was relaxed, confident; maybe he wasn't secure in their relationship, but he knew he could do this for her.

He stroked a hand up her leg, caressing, slow and gentle. Every now and then he glanced at her face, but he had been learning her, and even when she tried to remain impassive, he could feel her building arousal, almost like a prickle under his skin. He stroked her other leg, then her thighs, her belly, gentle and slow at first, then firmer, faster. He still wore his robe as he moved over her to nuzzle her breast, then draw her nipple into his mouth, his hand covering her other breast and stroking her nipple in the same rhythm.

He kept suckling, stroking, fondling until her hips were weakly bucking under him; then he worked his way down, slowly, savoring her. She made a soft noise that wasn't quite a plea when he kissed her clit.

While she enjoyed foreplay, she didn't enjoy him teasing her during sex. As soon as he started this, as far as she was concerned, he was committed. She had promised him that she wouldn't deny him orgasm during sex, and he did the same for her.

He went down on her until she was gasping, moaning quietly, and when he scraped his teeth over her clit, she bucked hard. He slid his fingers into the slick press of her inner flesh and let her thrust and grind against the penetration as he kept suckling her clit.

Once she was entirely spent, panting, her eyes sewn shut, Ned slid off the bed. He returned, hands clean, with a washcloth, and wiped her off. Then he stepped back, looking down at the carpet beside her bed, knowing how soft it would feel under him.

He was hard as hell. If she fell asleep, he could deal with it himself, but he never presumed, because she didn't owe him anything. She had requested a passive climax, and he had given her that.

She made a soft noise and opened her eyes slightly, then opened her fist.

He moved onto the bed beside her, and she rolled toward him, resting her forehead against his arm. Ned closed his eyes. A month ago, even this intimacy had seemed unimaginable.

"I love you," she whispered.

His eyes popped open. He could hear his heart pounding. Had he… had she actually said those words?

She sighed, but met his gaze. "I don't want to, but you… you're right for me. Miraculously. It's never happened before." She smiled briefly. "I don't know what that says about either of us. I wouldn't wish myself on anyone."

"Ah, but I have," he said, somehow keeping a straight face. "Wished you on me. Many times."

"You'll regret it," she said, but her gaze was soft.

"I don't think I will."

She angled her hips, then glanced down. "Hmm. You seem to require some attention."

"The briefest amount." He sobered slightly, even though his heart was so full it ached. "I can handle it."

She shook her head. "I'm still exhausted, though, so…"

She turned away from him and he stripped off his robe, then spooned up behind her. He felt her breathing slow, and she was loose and relaxed against him.

"Now," she murmured.

He slid his arms around her and caressed her breasts, thumbing her nipples to tight points, and when she arched he trailed his hand down.

He slid into her from behind, one hand still at her breasts and the other stroking her clit. She was liquid and warm inside, gripping him tight, and on his next slow thrust she moaned.

Being with her had taught him patience, and he filled her with slow, steady thrusts, caressing her until she was panting, her groans almost desperate.

Then she broke, and he did too, thrusting harder, feeling her shudder as she climaxed. He followed with a groan of pleasure, and they slumped together, breathless.

"Mistress," he whispered. "I love you. You've been so patient, and I…"

"So have you," she murmured. "I don't have words for what we'll become. But no one can take you away from me, now. No one."

She moved onto her back to gaze up at him, her tone hard. His spine prickled, and he nodded.

"I've put you through hell." She cupped his cheek. "If you ever decide that what we have isn't enough, I will never stop you from leaving. The vows we make to each other, if we get that far—are mine to you." She shook her head. "I knew I would never find anyone like you, so I never tried. I saw what my life would be, and I accepted it. And now I'm rewriting who I am to give you a place in our future.

"It's intimidating."

He smiled. "Our future."

She met his gaze. "Ours. Dammit. I love you."

"I'll never hear you say it enough," he murmured, and then she drew him down to her again.