Page 26 of If I Were Yours

He makes a disgruntled sound as he releases me and opens the door. He clearly doesn’t want to let me go.

A woman in a black suit uniform steps out from the wall, where she must have been waiting.

“Escort Clara to her seat,” Grigory instructs. “Row one, seat eight. Once the show is over, bring her back here immediately.”

With a final squeeze on my arm, he leaves, and I watch his powerful gait as he walks down the hall.

“This way,” the woman says, pulling me out of the trance.

As she leads the way through the lobby, I notice how several people cast long glances my way, some a bit envious. I wonder if they’ve just seen me with Grigory. The thought excites me a little even as it makes me uncomfortable.

The woman leads me to the front row in the stalls and gestures to the only empty seat—right in front of the orchestra pit. I wonder how Grigory got a seat here on a few days’ notice. These seats are usually the first to go, and the auditorium is packed. It’s probably one of the perks of being the chief conductor.

I’ve never sat down here before. Markus usually gets me seats on the first balcony where you get a good view of everything. Here, I might not get the same overview, but I can see straight into the orchestra pit—make out the strings on the cellos and even see what shoes the musicians in the back are wearing.

It’s thrilling, being so close to the action. But what has my heart speeding the most is the sight of the podium. In a few minutes, Grigory will be standing there, swinging his arms wildly as he leads the orchestra, a few feet away from me. If I were a few seats closer to the middle, I’d almost be able to touch him.

The lights in the auditorium dim, and a buzzing sensation stirs in my body as the orchestra stops fiddling with their instruments and the din of talking dies down.

I crane my neck toward the far end of the orchestra pit when people start clapping. And there he is. Powerful and mighty as he walks through the orchestra. My heart gallops as he steps onto the podium and gives a couple of bows toward the audience, and my breath stutters to a halt when his eyes land on me. The contact is brief but potent just the same.

He spears his gaze into me with an intensity that has me clutching the armrest. It’s like a dark promise to keep me under his control even as he conducts. To keep me for as long as he possibly can—an extension of the promise he made this morning. An almost feral need to control me.

Is that why he placed me here? Not to offer me the best possible seat but so he could keep an eye on me?

The idea sends my blood whooshing through my veins, clouding my brain in a submissive fog.

Every time he takes or leaves the podium during the show, he solidifies the idea as he glances in my direction with the same intense expression.

When the show ends, I’m high on the power exchange—high on his control. All I can think about is returning to him and feeling the steely grip of his hand banding around my arm.

***

Grigory meets me at the staff entrance where he left me. Like the last time he met me after aToscaperformance, his eyes are wild and hungry. And just like then, he grabs my hand without a word and drags me down the halls, through a staircase, down to a secluded area in the basement.

Unlike last time, though, I have a good sense of what is coming.

My heart makes a double thud when Grigory shoves me into a room and I see Markus leaning against a table, arms crossed over his chest and eyes dark with dominant intent.

I halt in my tracks, almost forgetting the other predator. And when Grigory grabs my arms, yanking me back into him, I let out a startled scream.

“No one can hear you down here,” he snarls in my ear.

A bolt of fear has me pulling away, but he simply wraps his arms around me, rendering me immobile as he traps my arms at my sides.

Markus pushes off the table and stalks toward me, one measured step at a time. Usually, I’m not scared of him when he goes into full-on dominant mode. But the dim light, the secluded room, and the brutality radiating off Grigory bathes the whole situation in ominous colors. And as he approaches, I start sinking back into Grigory instead of pulling away.

Fear and desire swirl in my mind, blotting out every rational thought as they both try to win the upper hand.

Markus stops right in front of me, and I pant hard as I crane my neck to watch him wearily, expecting him to strike at any moment.

His lips tip up in one of his bright smiles, but the easygoing charm takes on a foreboding hue as he lifts his hand to my cheek and says, “You think you can get away, huh?”

“You’re scaring me,” I manage through bated breaths.

Markus tilts his head to the side as he studies me, stroking his knuckles up and down my cheek. “Grigory is right. You are cute when you’re scared.” Lifting his eyes above my shoulder, he says, “Do you think she can handle a little more fear?”

“Oh yes,” Grigory says, tightening his arms around me like I’m not already completely helpless.

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