“I’m going to go for a walk,” Nathaniel said. “To give you two some privacy.”

She waited until the door closed behind him to speak. “Abby. I am so sorry.”

The easy thing would have been to tell her it was okay and that everything was fine, but it wasn’t okay and everything wasn’t fine.

“That was a rotten thing to do last night,” I told her. “I was in a place I didn’t know, drinking, and I had no idea where you were.”

“It was completely irresponsible of me and there’s no excuse for it.”

I crossed my arms. “At least tell me why.”

She waved toward the couches and we sat down. She on one side and I on the other. “I only planned to dance, honestly. I had no intention of playing last night. After we had danced a few songs, I went to the bathroom. When I came out, Master V said he’d told you that we were going to a private room. I should have talked to you anyway. I should have. But it’d been …” She shook her head. “There’s no excuse. There’s not. And your husband was right to call me on it.”

My heart softened just a bit. Her voice shook and she certainly looked distraught.

“I can’t say I’m happy he called you,” I said. “But I understand why he did it.”

She didn’t speak for long seconds. Almost as if she was weighing what she’d say next. “Abby,” she finally said, “I totally understand if you don’t want anything to do with me, but please don’t let last night interfere with your work at the station. I’ll step aside and let someone else work with you.”

I sighed. I wasn’t sure if she was just saying that because she didn’t want to get in trouble or if she really cared. “I’ll be honest. I’m not happy with what happened last night, but I won’t let it affect my job. And I don’t want you to step aside, but it’s going to take some time for us to get back to where we were.”

For the first time since I’d seen her that day, she looked somewhat hopeful. “Thank you, Abby. I’ll make it up to you.”.

Chapter Seven

The next few weeks were crazy. Henry’s ear infection didn’t get any better, so no one was sleeping and I had to spend an entire day in New York taking him to a specialist. Nathaniel was trying to find someone to take over the running and management of his melanoma nonprofit and that required late nights in the city. One weekend, he actually had meetings on Saturday, so the kids, Apollo, and I stayed at the penthouse so we could spend time with him. Fortunately, Jeff had been able to get his security issues taken care of, so at least that was one less thing he had to worry about.

Evenings after the kids went to bed weren’t any better. I spent a lot of time online chatting with Meagan and working on my first few pieces. I had parts of about four potential blog postings and I stressed over them more than I should have. But the way I saw it, this was my introduction to a large number of people and I needed to write something that represented the best of me.

Three weeks after the incident, I’d just turned the computer off for the night when Nathaniel entered the library. He’d been swimming and his hair hadn’t dried yet, but he’d changed out of his swim trunks into his tan drawstring pants. After his laps in the pool, he must have been down to the wine cellar, because he had two wineglasses and a bottle of my favorite red.

“Finished?” he asked. He held out a glass and lifted an eyebrow. At my nod, he handed one to me and filled the glass.

“Thanks.” I took a sip. “Mmm, that’s good. Not quite finished, but I’m closer than I was.”

He tilted his head toward the couch and we sat down together. He twisted in his seat, facing me better. “I have a conference next month.”

“I remember you mentioning it. Innovations in Finance and Banking. Delaware, right?” It didn’t sound interesting to me, but they had invited Nathaniel to be one of the speakers.

“Yes, and I’d like for you to go with me.” He dropped his voice. “As my submissive.”

“How long did you say it was?” I asked, my brain already running through everything that would need to be taken care of: the kids, Apollo, and, now that I was working, what to do about the posts that would be due.

“A week.” He placed his wineglass on the table beside the couch. “And I want you to wear my collar the entire time.”

“A week?” I asked, confused. Where had that come from?

“Yes.”

“But I thought … Wouldn’t you … Shouldn’t we?” I had so many random thoughts and questions, I couldn’t focus on one long enough to voice it. Why did he want to play for a week? Why bring it up now?