He was forty. Older than I thought. But young enough to be her child. Just another pawn in her self-aggrandizing quest for control. With any luck, he would say something to piss her off, and this would all work itself out on its own. “I wonder,” he said, his voice rumbling like a distant storm, “what kind of woman threatens a man of the cloth.” “A smart woman. I trust no one. Not even a priest with a squeaky-clean record.” “If you’re suggesting—” “I’m not. You agreed to my conditions. Don’t let her leave the property. No males in her room, including yourself. Don’t allow her in your private
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