The King (The Original Sinners: White Years, #2)(113)

ago when he’d been sent on a long undercover assignment in

Manhattan. Older, rich, well-respected and powerful, Maggie was also a sexual submissive who loved nothing so much

as spending all night on her hands and knees for a man. He’d

taken great pleasure in giving her knees rug burn for two

months straight.

“You miss me, don’t you?” he asked her.

“No.”

“Do you think if I hadn’t gone back to France, we still

would be together?” he asked.

“Kingsley?” Maggie reached across the table and snapped

her fingers in his face. “Pay attention. Your club has been

closed for a month. Can we talk about how much money

you’re losing and why?”

“I have plenty of money.”

“Do you not care about the people who work for you who

lost their jobs?”

“I’m still paying them.”

“When did you become so altruistic?”

“I’m a very giving person. Orgasms, beatings, rug burn,”

he reminded her.

“I’m leaving. When you’re ready to discuss your legal situation, call my office.” She gathered her things and stood up. Kingsley took her by the wrist and pulled her back down to

her chair. As he expected, she didn’t put up a fight. “I’m sorry,” he said, moving his chair directly in front of

hers. “I am. This is my own fault, which is why I don’t want

to talk about it. But I need to. I need you.”

Maggie exhaled heavily. She took Kingsley’s hands in hers.

On her left hand she now sported a wedding band. His beautiful, servile, submissive Maggie, who had once spent twentyfour hours straight chained to his bed…was now married. And

to a librarian of all things.

“Tell me what’s going on. The truth,” she said. “I can’t help

you if you won’t tell me what’s happening.”

“I fell in love,” he said.

She smiled at him sympathetically. “The root of all evil.

Who is she? Or he?”

“She’s a hotel called The Renaissance.”

“Your strip club is closed. You’re being investigated for tax

code violations. And your friend Irina’s being deported. And

this is all about real estate?”

Kingsley nodded.

“Well,” she said. “That’s Manhattan for you.”

“I want to open a new club,” he began. “A club for us. For

our kind. The world’s largest S and M club. I found a place I

wanted, but it’s owned by Reverend James Fuller.” “Reverend Fuller? The Reverend Fuller? The Reverend

Fuller who opens legislative sessions with prayers, held the

Bible for the mayor when he was sworn in and baptized the

governor’s granddaughter? That Reverend Fuller?” “The same,” he said.

“Okay. Tell me everything.”

He told her. He told her about Sam and The Renaissance, about trying to buy it from Fuller and having his offer refused. He told her about the church, the camps and the teenage kids being tortured for being gay. He told her that while he could find another building for his club, he loathed Fuller so much

he refused to give up.

“Maggie,” he said, raising her hand and kissing it. “This is

my city now. This is my home. I can’t let Fuller bring his empire into my city. You know what I am. I was sleeping with

another boy when I was sixteen. Fuller would have sent me to

one of those f*cking conversion therapy camps if he’d had the

chance. Me and him. And Fuller’s not sorry. He only closed

the camp because two of the campers made a suicide pact.” “Did they die?” she asked, horrified.

“One died. The other girl lived. Lived and worked for me

for a few months.”

“Sam?”

“She told me what happened to her at that camp. I spoke

to some others who’d gone to his camps. They confirmed

everything she said. There’s a thirty-two-year-old man in

Queens who still has the burn scars from the electrodes on

his testicles.”

Maggie winced. Once Kingsley had realized Sam had betrayed him, he’d begun doubting everything she’d told him.

But when it came to the camps, she’d been telling the truth.

The man with the burns hadn’t wanted to talk to him at first,

not until Kingsley promised him that he’d do everything he

could to keep Fuller from opening a church in the city. Kingsley had found him through a lawsuit he’d filed against Fuller

and the church seeking restitution for his massive therapy and

medical bills. The man hadn’t had sex in five years because

he couldn’t bear to let anyone see the burns on his genitals. “He’s not a man of God,” Kingsley said. “I know a man of

God, and that man of God makes me think God might be on our side. But Fuller, he’s a demagogue. And he’s dangerous.

And I don’t want him in my town.”

“I get it,” Maggie said. “I can’t say I want him or his church