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“Have you eaten breakfast?”
I spin around at the sound of Grigory’s rumbling voice and meet a stern gaze beneath low brows.
“No.” I shove an arm through a jacket sleeve. “I don’t have time these mornings.”
Grigory’s jaw hardens. He doesn’t say anything but grabs his jacket and pushes his feet into his shoes, then takes me by the arm and herds me out of the apartment. He locks the door with the key I’ve given him and steers me toward the parking lot—the opposite direction of the bus.
“I need to go now or I’ll miss the bus,” I say, pointing away from the parking lot.
“You need to eat,” is all he says as he leads me to the gray BMW he’s leased.
“I’m serious, Grigory. I don’t want to be late,” I say as he shoves me into the passenger seat. I’m going to miss the last hour of the lecture, as is, because we’re leaving for Berlin today. Grigory and Markus are doing the finalToscashow, and we’re all three supposed to have a talk about this new dynamic.
Grigory leans in and snaps my seat belt in place before leveling me with a serious expression. “You won’t be. I’m taking you.”
A mix of excitement and nervousness rumbles in my stomach as Grigory slams the door shut and rounds the car.
I’ve only driven with him twice before, to go to the woods outside town and when he took me out to eat a couple of nights ago. The former was a secluded place, and the latter was too fancy to risk running into people I know. But now he’s taking me straight to the place where we’re most likely to be seen. People there know I’m with Markus, and many probably even know who Grigory is.
Suddenly, I’m tense with anxiety as I consider all the questions I’ll get, which I neither can nor want to answer.
Grigory is not one to exhibit discretion. He’ll surely help me out of the car with a firm hand around my arm like he’s done the other times—grab my chin when he tells me to get lunch, and pull me in for a warm hug to settle my nerves. Except, he won’t be settling my nerves by hugging me on campus. He’ll have them shooting through the roof. I’ll get self-conscious and hyper-aware of my surroundings, thinking people are watching and judging.
Grigory places a hand on my thigh as he speeds down the road. “What’s the matter, Clara? I told you that you won’t be late.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I steel myself with a deep breath. “Will you please drop me off at the road across from campus, so people won’t see?” I say, then hurry to add, “They know I’m with Markus, and I haven’t told anyone about you. It’s too soon.”
I glance tentatively at Grigory and see him nod. He’s impossible to read as always, features set in a grave expression that might as well be his relaxed face as a sign of irritation. It’s hard to tell the difference, especially when his eyes are on the road.
I’m fraught with nerves for the next five minutes before Grigory again squeezes my thigh. “Relax,devochka. It’s okay.”
Turning his face to me, he gives me a nod to emphasize his words. It’s not the reassuring smile I was hoping for, but it’s enough to take the brunt of my nerves.
“Thank you,” I say sincerely and push out a heavy puff of air.
Grigory stops at a bakery and orders me to wait in the car while he goes in to buy me breakfast. Neither of us says anything as I eat and he drives, but the reassuring squeezes on my thigh and the food level me enough to feel somewhat at ease when Grigory pulls in at the side of the road across from campus.
“I’ll pick you up here at ten. Don’t be late. Our flight takes off at one.” He lifts his chin, his features hardening in an expression that demands my obedience with uncompromising authority.
I nod in his grip, my blood whooshing as I accept his control. “I’ll be here.”
I’m about to reach for the door, but Grigory stops me by taking my other hand in his.
“Are you ready for tonight?” he asks.
Settling back in my seat, I consider for a moment. Tonight will be the first time I see both men since the strange night when Grigory told me why he’d been hot and cold all summer and Markus told me he’d been considering sharing me with Grigory for a while.
I must say I’m quite nervous. It’s only been ten days, yet so much has happened. Grigory and I have found each other in a whole new way and grown much closer than I thought possible in such a short while. But then again, I experienced the same depth of intimacy with Markus after no time, so maybe it’s this Dom/sub dynamic that tends to speed things up.
“I think so,” I finally say.
“What are you nervous about?” Grigory asks, reading my state of mind on my fumbling fingers.
“Being with both of you again.”
“Are you still afraid that you’re doing something wrong by being with me?”
I don’t think I ever told Grigory about this, but Markus must have mentioned it. Or maybe it’s as obvious as my jittery nerves. “Also that,” I say a bit tentatively. Because even though I do worry about this, it’s not all. Markus and I have been talking a lot on the phone while Grigory’s been here, and it’s taken the brunt of those worries.
