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“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” Grigory says, already grabbing the handle on the door, and when I look up, I see that the softness from before has faded into an impassive expression. “I have an orchestra to check on. I’ll be back to get Clara before the show starts.”
I know as well as Grigory that he doesn’t need to check on the orchestra. A lot of things might be amiss within this organization, but the orchestra is not one of them. And his leadership isn’t either. He could get in front of any orchestra any day, without introduction or establishment of power, and they would follow him right from his first cue. Just like Clara did. That’s the kind of power he has.
But I can’t blame him. Just like I can’t blame Clara for leaning out from me and casting him a longing look as he walks out and shuts the door. They both seem to have formed some kind of attachment that makes it difficult to let go. Which is no small wonder. They have just spent ten days together. Ten days of intimate connection as they’ve delved deeper into the Dom/sub dynamic that was already strong between them before.
But no matter how much I understand, I do want Clara’s undivided attention for myself for a little while.
Grabbing her by the shoulders, I turn her around and steer her backward until her knees hit the recliner and she plops down on it. Then I grab the tall chair in front of the mirrors, place it right before her, and take a seat.
She sinks back in the recliner, already feeling the weight of my dominance as I tower over her, spearing her in place with my gaze alone.
I smile inwardly but keep my face stoic as her fingers fumble with the hem of her shirt and her eyes flicker into the room and back to me. Just the reaction I was looking for.
“Everything good between the two of you?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. But I want to hear it from her.
“Yeah.” She nods eagerly, her eyes lighting up. “Better than I’d dared to hope.”
“The sex too?” I say, deliberately provoking her cute reaction.
Her face turns beet red, and I let my smile unfold across my face. “That good, huh?”
Her lips twitch as she struggles not to let her own smile free, but she can’t control it. Within seconds, she’s beaming widely, nodding as she lowers her eyes, trying to hide.
But I won’t let her. I want to see every little nuance of her sweet embarrassment. So I press a finger under her chin and tip her head up, forcing her eyes back on me.
“If you’re a good girl, you might get two cocks tonight.”
Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, and when her eyes flicker down and she says the next words, it takes everything I have not to flip her over the armrest and fuck her right here and now.
“I’d like that.”
— CHAPTER 9 —
CLARA
Grigory returns fifteen minutes before the show starts. It’s been good to have some time with Markus, but I also realize I’ve missed Grigory when he steps into the dressing room and I meet his strict gaze.
He crooks a finger at me, making me dart up from the chair and scurry to him. When Markus intercepts me with an arm around my waist, I’m stunned to find I almost forgot to say goodbye to him.
“Not so fast,” he says. “I want a kiss for good luck.”
I eagerly lean into him and join him in a deep kiss. “Good luck,” I whisper before he releases me.
When I turn back to Grigory, his expression seems harder, and his eyes capture mine with an intensity that has me slowing my steps as I go to him. With a hand around my arm, he steers me out of the room and down the hall. His grip is harder than usual. More possessive.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Grigory gives me a sideways glance, and I don’t miss how his eyes linger on my lips. “I’m good.”
He doesn’t say another word as he guides me through the long halls and down to the staff entrance leading to the lobby. It’s like déjà vu, walking here with him again. It reminds me of all the times he came to get me before a piano lesson. And those times before the premiere when he dragged me along with the same hard grip. He’d barely answer when I tried to strike up a conversation, and in the rehearsal room, he’d take out his frustrations on me without giving me aftercare.
I keep glancing up at him, trying to gauge if he’s turned cold and distant again.
But when we stop at the staff entrance leading to the lobby, he turns me to face him, watching me with a look that seems to say a whole lot of things I can’t decipher. He’s not distant, but not quite in balance either.
“I should take you to the orchestra pit and chain you to my podium,” he says, mouth twitching with something almost feral.
My heart starts pounding, heat swirling within my core. I know that expression. It’s the one that tells me he’s in sadist mode—or wants to fuck me hard and mercilessly. His hands tighten around my arms, and I melt in the almost painful grip. I’d do just about anything to make him take me back into the depths of the enormous building and find a secluded place where he could have his way with me, and I think he feels the same.
