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  He gently eased her off his lap, and they both stood.

  Their earlier play had caused Chess’s hat and suit coat to fall off the desk. When he picked them up, his overstuffed wallet slipped from the jacket pocket and landed on the floor. Items scattered. Mia helped pick up loose coins and scraps of paper, which Chess jammed haphazardly into his pocket. But the last item she found made Mia suck in a breath. A photo of a beautiful blonde.

  Her tongue turned to stone as Chess plucked the picture from her numb fingers. She looked at him but received no explanation. He gave her nothing but a blank stare.

  “Let’s go downstairs,” he said.

  He held her around her waist as they descended, but Mia couldn’t feel his embrace. Nor could she feel her legs as they carried her down the stairs.

  Mia knew Chess had plenty of play partners and doubtless many sexual partners as well. But a man didn’t keep photos in his wallet of his fuck buddies and one-night stands. Questions lumbered through her mind like a woolly mammoth lost in an ice storm. Who was the blonde? Could Chess be involved with another woman?

  Just because he spent time with her didn’t mean he had no serious relationships. Some couples in the scene were monogamous, yes, but others weren’t. BDSM had its share of open and polyamorous relationships. Mia didn’t care what other people did. But she didn’t want to be anyone’s third—or fourth or fifth—even if the woman in the photo, whoever she might be, was fine with him having other partners.

  Mia suddenly remembered how much she didn’t know about Chess. Yes, they’d shared some details of their lives, but he still held part of himself remote.

  Once downstairs, she allowed him to guide her to the bar. Venetia was still there. It was quiet, as the club wouldn’t open for another hour or so.

  He took a stool. “You open for business, barkeep?

  Venetia winked. “For you, anytime. What’ll it be?”

  “Two cranberries, please.” He glanced at Mia and patted the stool next to his. “Sit down.”

  She balked. “I should go.” She felt like an idiot and only wanted to get away, run home, and lick her wounds. For God’s sake, why had she never thought to ask about his other relationships?

  Mia, get over yourself. Just because you’ve fallen head over heels for the man doesn’t mean he returns the favor. He doesn’t owe you a thing.

  Except the truth. And if he had another woman and never told her, wasn’t that a lie of omission?

  His voice was hard. “It’s not a request. Sit.”

  It would be more embarrassing to make a fuss. Mia sat. Chess took the contents of his suit-coat pocket and set them on the bar along with his wallet. He browsed through them, pushing the coins to one side and crumpling a few old receipts. “I had no idea some of this stuff was still here.”

  “That reminds me, I should clean out my purse,” Venetia said as she poured the juice. “I can’t believe the amount of junk I accumulate. And how heavy it gets to carry around.”

  Mia, too preoccupied with questions about the beautiful blonde, barely heard their conversation. In the photo the woman’s head was tilted back, her hair billowing behind her like a model in a shampoo advertisement. Her eyes were as blue as hyacinths and her teeth so white and perfect she could be advertising color contact lenses and toothpaste as well.

  Mia stopped breathing when Chess moved the photograph squarely in front of her. “Venetia, could you give us some privacy, please?”

  “No problem. There’re some things in back I need to check on.” Mia realized how defeated she must have looked when Venetia gave her a buck up, girl nod of encouragement before disappearing into the back room.

  Chess gazed at the photo for a moment and glanced at Mia, who quickly looked away. “This is my ex-wife. Jennifer.”

  Mia sagged with relief. His ex-wife. But almost immediately, a question niggled at her. If they were divorced, why did he still carry this Jennifer’s picture? Did Chess still have feelings for her? Was he in love with her?

  “Funny. I didn’t know I still had this. We were married four years.” He expressed no regret or pain as he told her this. Mia felt another surge of relief. He didn’t sound like a man still carrying a torch for his ex.

  “She’s lovely,” Mia said, stating the obvious.

  “Yes, she was. She is. That was one of the reasons I married her.”

  Mia blinked. What a strange thing to say. A man might admit being attracted to a woman for her beauty, but to flat-out admit it was the reason he married her was perhaps a bit too honest. Or too shallow.

  “You think that’s superficial,” Chess said. He smiled at her. “You’re right. I married Jennifer for her looks and her charm. She was the perfect trophy wife. An expensive, showy accoutrement to my lifestyle, just like the expensive car and the designer clothes. When she was on my arm, every man who crossed our path was as jealous as hell. And I loved it.”

  Mia hesitated, then asked, “Did she love it too?”

  “Don’t feel sorry for her. She knew what it was all about, and she was completely on board. If I married her for her beauty, Jennifer married me for my money and the luxuries I could provide. Neither of us had any illusions.”

  Mia had no idea what to say next. Though relieved that he was free, she was distressed by the description of his marriage. It just seemed so cold. How sad that Chess had so blithely embraced a loveless marriage.

  “Why the frown, Mia?” He touched his forefinger to her brow, smoothing out the creases there.

  “Didn’t you want to be in love?”

  “I’m not sure I believe in love, except as a merchandising ploy for selling cards, candy, and flowers.”

  Disappointment jabbed Mia in the ribs.

  “We were a perfect match, Jennifer and I, without any of those romantic illusions.”

  It couldn’t have been too perfect, or they’d still be together. “But…you divorced.”

  “Yes, well…” His lips curved into a rueful smile. “She found someone who could provide an even more luxurious life.”

  Ouch. That must have stung, never mind Chess’s attempt to sound indifferent. “I’m sorry.” She hated to think of him being hurt.

  He merely shrugged. “She’s a very smart woman, Jennifer. She traded up. Can’t blame her for that.”

  Mia had only one more question. “Do you have children?”

  He shook his head briefly. “No. Kids were never part of the bargain.”

  SOME PEOPLE WOULD think it selfish, not wanting children. But it would have been selfish bringing kids into the kind of marriage he and Jennifer had. Though their union had been entirely shallow and self-centered, at least they’d been wise enough to spare innocent children the pain of divorce.

  Chess had to smile at Mia’s sad and puzzled expression. Sweet girl. So concerned about him. But he wasn’t fishing for sympathy. He’d accepted that Jennifer had moved on, and in truth, he didn’t blame her. She’d married him thinking he would provide the upscale lifestyle he’d promised, and when his fortunes went south, he could no longer keep that promise. He couldn’t keep his side of the bargain, so there was no reason for her to hold up hers. No, Jennifer was smart to find someone new while she still had youth and beauty enough to close the deal. Chess had no hard feelings.

  It hadn’t been hard saying good-bye to Jennifer. And though he’d meant to say good-bye to Mia tonight, to send her on her way with a beautiful memory, he now selfishly changed his mind. As he looked into her lovely, compassionate face, he knew he had to hold on to her a bit longer. Even if only for a few more days. Mia was thoughtful and giving and real—everything Jennifer wasn’t. And he just couldn’t let her go.

  Losing his wife had only hurt his pride. Losing Mia would hurt him in a much deeper place.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mia gazed down at the infant in her friend’s arms. “He’s adorable, Ronni.”

  Ronni shifted in the hospital bed and smiled at her baby with love in her eyes. “Yeah, he is.”
She tickled his chin with the tip of her finger, and the two women chuckled as the tiny little boy screwed up his mouth. “He looks like his daddy. Got his daddy’s grumpy disposition too.”

  Mia found a place on the windowsill of Ronni’s hospital room to set the flowers and blue teddy bear she brought. She’d just come from work. “Guess those cravings of yours didn’t signal a girl after all.”

  “Guess not.”

  “That’s all right. When this little guy is weaned, you can start working on number five,” Mia joked.

  Ronni’s eyes narrowed. “No way. This is my last ride on the baby-go-round.” She made a scissoring motion with two fingers of her free hand. “After this, snip snip.”

  “You’re getting your tubes tied?”

  “Me? Oh no. Hal’s getting a vasectomy. It’s a much simpler procedure.”

  “And Hal’s fine with that?”

  “He will be,” Ronni said, her tone ominous. “If he ever wants access to my stuff again.”

  Whereupon the man in question turned up, with a huge smile on his face and a humongous helium balloon that proclaimed IT’S A BOY! Mia spent a few more minutes with both parents, then left them cooing over the newest addition to their family. Ronni might have been hoping for a girl, but Mia knew her friend was more than thrilled with her healthy, grumpy baby boy.

  She worked her way through the maze of halls to the elevator and pushed the Down arrow. The elevator dinged as it reached her floor, and the doors opened. Stepping back as several people got off, Mia smiled blandly at a young man standing behind a wheelchair and nodded to the elderly man in the chair. Her face went stiff as recognition kicked in and ice crackled through her veins. The young man pressed the button to hold the door open. “Going down?”

  His words sounded fuzzy, as though her ears were stuffed with cotton. The man in the wheelchair stared straight ahead. Straight through her.

  A flicker of impatience crossed the younger man’s face. “Going down?” he enunciated, as though she were hard of hearing. Mia’s mouth moved silently before she could respond. “No. No, I’m…” She gestured vaguely over her shoulder and stepped back into the corridor.

  The young man gave a little shrug and punched the button to close the doors. As they slid shut, Philip remained motionless in his wheelchair and didn’t acknowledge her at all.

  * * * *

  Mia rang the doorbell of Philip’s impressive brownstone that same evening. She wasn’t really surprised when the same young man she’d seen in the hospital elevator answered the door.

  She got right to the point. “I’m here to see Mr. Gale.”

  The man’s eyebrows rose in a supercilious manner. “Mr. Gale’s not seeing visitors.”

  Mia wasn’t backing down. She adopted the same don’t-mess-with-me attitude she put on when dealing with the bureaucracy of the power company.

  “He will see me, because I’m not going anywhere. Tell him it’s Mia.”

  The man’s eyebrows lowered, and one corner of his mouth twitched as though he was fighting the urge to grin. “Just a minute.”

  “Thank you.” Before he could shut the door in her face, Mia stepped over the threshold and followed him inside.

  Now it was his turn to be surprised. She smiled at him mildly. “I’ll just have a seat in the blue room.”

  She had no idea who this young guy was, but Mia was not about to be intimidated. She stepped into the wide foyer with its marble tiles. Straight ahead rose an impressive winding staircase leading to the upper floor of Philip’s beautiful home. On either side were doors leading to a sitting room and a library.

  The sitting room was an elegant space adorned in pale blue and gold. Philip called it the blue room, and once told her that his wife, Elaine, had decorated it. Mia seated herself and waited. Her heart thunked, belying her cool exterior.

  Almost twenty minutes later the door opened. When Philip entered, Mia’s worst fears were realized. Philip sat in a wheelchair pushed by the young man who answered the door.

  The attendant parked the chair so it faced the sofa where Mia sat.

  “This good, boss?”

  “It’s fine, Carson. Thank you.”

  Philip’s voice, the warm velvety rumble that Mia so loved, hadn’t changed at all. That was the only part of him, though, still recognizable. He was terribly thin, almost cadaverous. The skin of his face stretched tautly over his sharp features. His eyes and skin had a yellowish cast. His scalp showed through the sparse strands of his hair.

  “Don’t forget, meds in twenty minutes. And don’t overtire yourself.” Carson sent a stern look Mia’s way, specifically warning her not to tire Philip. But she was too shocked by Philip’s appearance to take offence.

  He smiled at Carson. “I’ll remember. Is there any chance you could bring my guest and me some coffee?”

  “Serving coffee is not part of my job description,” Carson grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. “But I suppose I could bend the rules this once, if it would make you happy.”

  “What would make me happy is a gin and tonic, but I don’t suppose that’s a possibility, is it?”

  “You bet your life it’s not. Coffee it is. Back in a few.” The younger man left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Philip turned to Mia. “Carson’s my nurse. One of them. He’s very protective of me.”

  “Your nurse…” Mia’s throat closed. She was suddenly gazing at him through a film of jelly. Everything looked blurry, unreal. “What’s going on?”

  Philip ignored her question. “I’m very glad you came by, Mia.”

  She swallowed hard, willing her courage not to desert her. “Really, Philip?” She made no effort to hide her skepticism. She never would have dared speak to him in that tone when he was her Dom. So many things had changed.

  “I know I owe you an apology, Bella Mia.” His special name for her. At one time it had the power to make her tingle. Now all it did was sound a mute note of nostalgia.

  “I wasn’t honest with you that night at LoFiglio’s.”

  The door opened, and Carson entered, carrying a tray with three cups, and set it on the glass coffee table. “Coffee here at your service.” He gestured to a small plate of crème wafers. “Oh, I found some cookies too.”

  “Thank you, Carson.”

  “We aim to please. And your other visitor’s here.”

  Three cups of coffee. Another visitor. Before Mia could put it all together, Chess appeared in the doorway. His gray eyes widened in surprise as he spotted Mia. When he looked at Philip, his face froze in shock.

  “Francesco.” Philip welcomed him. “Thank you for making time to see me on such short notice.”

  Chess entered the room and sat on the sofa next to Mia. The warmth of his nearness anchored her, made her feel safe. “I always have time for you, Philip.”

  “I appreciate that,” Philip answered. “I kept Mia waiting while I called you. Since she was here, I thought it best to tell you both what I need to say. So there’s no point in me beating around the bush, my friends. I have cancer. Pancreatic cancer.”

  Mia’s breath caught. She was no expert, but she knew that type of cancer could be especially difficult to diagnose and treat. If it could be treated. As pain squeezed her heart, Chess took her hand and pressed it tightly.

  They both spoke at the same time.

  “You—”

  “How long—”

  “I was diagnosed several months ago.” He looked at Mia meaningfully. “By that time it was too far along to consider surgery. I’ve had various treatments in the meantime, with limited success.”

  Chess quickly pounced on that remark. “What does that mean, Phil?”

  “It means I’m going to die. Treatment bought me a few more months.”

  “Maybe more than that,” Mia heard herself say. Her lips were numb, and she couldn’t feel her hands.

  Philip smiled gently. “I’m afraid not, Bella Mia.” He picked up a coffee from the tray and sipped. “Whi
ch is why I’m so glad to have you both here with me today. The two people I care for most.”

  He took another sip, then continued. “Before you came in, Chess, I was telling Mia I hadn’t been honest with her.

  “When I told you it was time for us to move on, Mia, I was taking the coward’s way out. I’d received my diagnosis and knew what the time I had left would be like. I didn’t want you to watch me deteriorate, get sick and old.”

  Mia’s eyes were wet. “You were too proud to tell me the truth.”

  “No, dear. Too vain.” Philip picked up his cup, then put it down again, his hand trembling. “But I never forgot you, Bella Mia.” His protruding Adam’s apple moved jerkily as he swallowed. “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well at all. Could someone please get Carson for me?”

  Chess jumped to his feet and swiftly left the room. Mia hurried to Philip’s side and knelt by his chair. He touched her hair as he’d so often done before.

  “I’m upset with you, Philip.”

  “Mia, forgive me. I wanted you to remember me as the Master I had been, not the invalid I’ve become.”

  “You had no right to shut me out. I care about you. I love you, whether you’re my Master or not. That will never change. I could have been here for you all this time, helping you. You didn’t even give me a chance.”

  The door flew open, and Carson stepped in, the picture of unruffled professionalism. “So what’s the problem? Have we tired ourselves out? Looks like it’s time for us to have a nice little nap.”

  “Us?” Philip laughed weakly. “Please spare me that image.”

  Carson tsked. “Will you listen to him?” He stepped behind the chair and released its brakes. “Your friends will have to excuse us.”

  Before Carson could move him, Mia kissed Philip’s cheek and whispered, “You’re going to be seeing a lot of me from now on. Get used to it.” She stood, giving Carson a look that told him that he’d better get used to it too. The young man recognized the challenge and quirked his lips in a half smile.

  Chess was beside her. “You’ll be seeing me too, Phil,” he murmured, placing his arm briefly around Philip’s shoulders.