“So what do you want me to do?” Sam asked.

“Get me everything you can on Fuller and his church.”

“King, I’ve looked through everything there is on him already. I haven’t found anything. He’s an ass, don’t get me wrong. Pompous and preachy and completely bigoted. But that puts him in line with every other televangelist preacher out there. No rumors of adultery, no rumors of wife-beating, no rumors of kid-fucking.”

“There’s something. There has to be something.”

“What if there isn’t?”

Kingsley stood up and came around the desk.

“I’m going to tell you something, and you’re going to keep it between you and me. It won’t always be a secret, but for now it is.”

“What?” she asked.

“At the hotel, I told you I knew a world-class sadist who could cut a lit cigarette in half with the tip of a bullwhip. What I didn’t tell you is that he’s also a Catholic priest. Look in my eyes, Sam.”

She looked into his eyes as ordered.

“There is always something,” Kingsley said.

“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll look again. What are you going to do?”

“Nothing you need to know about,” he said.

“No hints?”

“It starts with an A,” Kingsley said.

“Assignation? Audition? Ass...sex? They all start with A.”

“I’m going to audition someone for an ass-sex assignation. I’ll see you later,” he said, standing up straight. The scar tissue on his chest was painfully tight today.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course I am.”

“I saw you wince. Are you in pain?”

“Don’t start worrying about me.” He shook his finger at her. “Once you start that habit, you’ll never stop.”

“That worrisome, are you?”

Kingsley raised his hands and ticked off numbers on his fingers as he spoke.

“One. My parents died in a train crash when I was fourteen. Two. My sister committed suicide when I was seventeen shortly after marrying the man I was in love with. Three. I used to kill people for a living for a secret organization inside the French government. Four. I have pissed off dangerous men with long memories. Five. My closest friend is a Catholic priest, the aforementioned sadist, who is in love with a girl in his congregation whose father has a rap sheet as long as your leg and some very nasty mob connections. And that, Sam, is only the beginning of the list of reasons you might want to worry about me.”

“Six. You’re in pain.”

“I have an old injury that’s healing slowly. It’s nothing to worry about. I’m nothing to worry about. So, don’t worry.”

“You should see a doctor.”

“I hate doctors.”

“I don’t care. See one anyway.”

“You forget I’m your boss. Not the other way around.”

“And I’m your assistant. I’m assisting you. You need to see a doctor.”

“I’m leaving now. Goodbye.” He patted her on the shoulder as he walked past her.

“I’m making you a doctor’s appointment,” she called out after him.

Kingsley paused in the door, turned around and came back to her.

“You are insubordinate,” he said.

“You hired me to help you,” she said, turning her bright eyes up to him. “Let me help you.”

Kingsley sat on the edge of his desk and looked down at her.

“I could align the planets using your nose as a sextant,” he said, tapping the end of it. “It’s that straight.”

“It’s the only straight part of me. Now stop trying to distract me and tell me how I can help you.”

“Stop dressing like that.”

“I dress like a man. No apologies. I don’t feel like myself in skirts and dresses. Okay?”

“I don’t care about that. I don’t care if I never see you in a dress or a skirt as long as I live.” He waved his hand to indicate his own attire of jeans, T-shirt and jacket. “But you dress nicer than I do, and I’m your employer. You’ll have to tone it down.”

“Maybe you should tone it up.”

“Tone it up?”

“You said you wanted to be a king of your own kingdom, right? You should dress like one.”

“I’d have to dress in a top hat and tails to outshine you.”

She tilted her head back and looked him up and down.

“You’d look incredible in a tuxedo.”

“You think?”

“Like a sexy French penguin,” she said.

“I’m leaving.”

“Bon voyage,” she said. “I’ll make the appointment.”

“No doctors,” he called back.

“I meant with my tailor.”

Kingsley had a smile on his face as he left Sam in his office. The smile faded by the time he exited the house. His driver, Gia, waited for him with the car, but he waved her off, telling her he’d rather walk today. It was a nice May day after all. The walk would do him good. Of course the real reason he didn’t want Gia to drive him was because he didn’t want anyone knowing where he was going. He walked four blocks and then caught a cab. He still couldn’t believe Søren had talked him into doing this. He hadn’t belonged to Søren since he was seventeen, and yet, here he was, following Søren’s orders like those eleven years had been eleven days. It had been so long since he’d felt as if it mattered to someone whether or not he lived or died that he couldn’t help but give in when Søren pushed him to come here.