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It’s sweet.
Like he’s trying to show me how much he loves me.
His hips circle, and he hits my clit with his pelvis over and over, rubbing on me until I moan long and loud. It feels too good. “God, Nik. I love the way you feel.”
Nik doesn’t answer. Instead, he keeps going, driving me insane. His groans in my ear are like music to my soul, and I close my eyes to savor the moment. We’re nose to nose again though, and I open them once more to look at him. His gray eyes are dilated, his mouth parted on a moan, and the way he looks at me steals my breath.
“You’re everything, Camilla.” He pants as he goes faster, “You’remyeverything. Fuckingmine.”
“Forever, baby.”
“Always,” he agrees.
The pleasure mounts inside me, reaching from my head to my toes until I stiffen and my body begins to vibrate with it. My legs start to shake and I scream as the orgasm hits me. With a few more thrusts, he joins me too, and we stay that way for a while.
Forehead to forehead.
Heart to heart.
Two years later…
Camilla and I are both finally done with school and living happily in Chicago. We’ve kept the beach house, sold the small apartment, and visited multiple times a month just to never forget where we came from. Our relationship is tied to that town and that house in so many ways it’s hard to let it go.
Another perk has been living—mostly—in peace without Matteo’s intervention. He held up his end of the deal and has tolerated me for the last two years. Although we still can’t be in the same room together, socially speaking. Business is a different matter, being that we set our feelings aside for it.
Things have changed since I became Pakhan, one being that I didn’t feel obligated to my father. Instead, it’s as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and I could live my life however I saw fit. Now that my father is dead, I hold a seat at the Table. I’ve been able to change some rules in this game. Power will do that, open doors you never thought could open in the first place.
The wives of the Elite are now able to hold some independence and have autonomy over their careers and earnings. With this new autonomy comes new opportunities. Camilla has decided to take on professional dancing, wanting to become a professional ballerina. I told her I was willing to chase her around the world until she was ready to stop. I’ll still have to be in Chicago a lot, but I’ll at least be able to spend two weeks out of the month with her. My right hand man, Ilya, will oversee everything for me. He has always helped me, especially now that my last man has retired.
This is exactly how I’ve been able to secure her an audition with the Paris Opera Ballet. Camilla just doesn’t know it. She believes we’re on vacation yet again, celebrating two years of marriage. In a way, we are, but with the added surprise of having a chance at her dream job. While she’s been looking for a spot somewhere close to home, I know this is where she wants to be. She just hasn’t had the guts to ask for it yet, so I’m doing it before she has to think about it.
Camilla sits in the taxi next to me, gazing out the window while we travel toward the building where she’s going to audition. She’s not looking at me. In fact, she hasn’t the entire time. She’s been mesmerized by the city, gazing out at it with an awe that I haven’t seen from her in years.
When we pull up to the curb, she peers around and then looks at me. The words Paris Opera Ballet stand out, and her wide eyes meet mine, almost bugging out of her head.
“Why are we here?” she asks, a slight panic in her voice. “Nik?”
“This is why I had you bring your stockings and leotard, baby.” I smile, “Oh, and your pointe shoes.”
Camilla grins. “Was this your plan for Paris all along?”
“Yes,” I admit. “You deserve this, Camilla.”
“But what exactly am I doing?”
“Auditioning, princess.” I lead her by the hand to the front door. “You got this shit.”
We enter in silence, the beautiful art displayed on the walls reminding her why she wants this so badly. Rows and rows of ballerina art and portraits that she looks at with wide eyes and a dropped jaw make me want to photograph her all over again to fill the walls of our house.
The audition goes seamlessly, but then again Camilla is a beautiful dancer. She twirls, spins, jumps, and keeps her limbs and neck elongated in such an elegant way that I’ve never seen anyone achieve. Not even all the other ballerinas who auditioned before her.
After the audition is over, Camilla and I go back to the hotel. In just a few hours, she receives an email confirming that she got a spot.
“Oh my God!” she squeals. “I got it, baby!”
“You fucking got it, Milla,” I affirm, picking her up until she wraps her legs around my waist and kissing her deeply. “I’m so proud of you, princess.”
“Thank you for making this happen, Nik.”
