“You sound like a proud father.”

Kingsley winced. Father of an eighteen-year-old girl? Possible, yes, but God, he couldn’t imagine having a child who was already a teenager.

“She’s a sweet girl. That’s all,” Kingsley said. And then he asked a terrifying question. “Do you want children?”

“I’ve thought about it. Under other circumstances I would.”

“Could you have them with him?”

She shook her head. “He won’t allow it.”

“Why not?”

“His daughters don’t know about me. And considering I grew up in his home...it would be a scandal. Even for the French it would be a scandal. I’m nothing but the housekeeper to anyone but us. He wants to keep it that way.”

“You’ve asked, haven’t you? Asked if you could have children?”

Juliette visibly swallowed. “I’ve asked, yes.”

“And what did you do when he said you weren’t allowed to have children?” Kingsley asked.

She raised her hands again. They were still empty.

“I gathered a bag of stones.”

Kingsley closed his eyes and exhaled. He felt his heart crack like an eggshell.

“Bastard,” he breathed.

“C’est la vie,” she said.

Kingsley stopped walking. They were near his beach hut now.

“I could help you,” Kingsley said. “I have money, too.”

“And what would I do? Be your lover?”

“Of course.”

“Be your property?”

“Not like you are now. You’d have freedom.”

“Trading his bed for your bed, his money for your money...that’s not freedom. That’s merely transferring the deed of ownership.”

“It wouldn’t have to be like that.”

“What if I left you?” she asked. “What if I cheated on you? What if I betrayed you? Would you still take care of my mother even after I’d moved on from you?”

Kingsley didn’t have a good answer to that.

“What’s that English phrase?” Juliette asked. “Better the devil you know?”

“I won’t leave Haiti without you,” he said, meaning the words more now than he had when he first said them.

“Then I hope you love it here. Because you will be here for a very long time.”

“I suppose I will then.”

She stood in front of him, raised her hand to his face.

“Don’t be angry. Don’t be hurt,” she said. “And don’t be afraid to leave me here. I’m fine. I won’t kill myself, I promise.”

“You swear?”

“I do. It was a foolish idea. In truth, I’m blessed in many ways. I have food, shelter. He spoils me. My life isn’t perfect, but name me one person who does have a perfect life. Can you?”

He tried to think of a name. Nothing came to him. He stayed silent.

“I thought so,” Juliette said with a tight smile. “No one.”

“Do you love him?” He’d asked before and she’d lied.

“I can’t leave the house without his permission. He always grants it, but also, I always have to ask.”

Kingsley couldn’t imagine how much that must gall her, this beautiful intelligent capable woman to have to ask permission like a child to leave her lover’s property.

“But...” she continued. “He didn’t have to help my mother at all, and he did. And he doesn’t threaten me, or her. He and I, we work well together, play well together. Despite everything.”

“Then why did you find me tonight?”

“Because his work has called him back to Paris for a week,” Juliette said, taking a step closer to him, close enough he could smell the scent of jasmine on her skin. “And I want to spend every moment until he gets back with you.”

“You’ll go back to him when he returns?”

“I will. I have to.”

“Spending more time with me will only make it harder for you, harder for both of us. You know that.”

“I know that,” she said.

“Answer this...why should we spend another night together if it’s only going to end with you going back to him?”

She gave him a reason he couldn’t and wouldn’t refuse.

“Because I’ll let you beat me.”

22

Upstate New York

“DO YOU HAVE a hymen?” Elle asked, and even in the dark she could see Kyrie blush. “Some virgins do, some don’t.”

“I think I do. Why?”

“I want to know what I’m working with.” Elle sat on the bed in front of Kyrie.

“What are you going to do to me?” Kyrie asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Elle said, and she didn’t. She’d never done anything like this before. Never topped a woman. Never taken anyone’s virginity.

She brushed her hand through Kyrie’s hair again. The waves in the sun-streaked mass looked like feathers in the darkness.

“You remind me of a dove,” Elle said. “All white and light and nervous.”

Kyrie smiled and pulled her knees to her chest.

“You’d be nervous too if you were me.”

“Yes,” Elle agreed. “You should be nervous.”

“Is it going to hurt?”

Elle nodded.

“Will I like it?”