She rocked a little on eight and nine, but she didn’t move her hands. Progress. He gave her the last stroke and she wailed “Ten!” in relief. Ten slender welts and one exhausted, brave little sub. She was almost ready for Lemaitre. Or Le Maître, as he was known in his self-created underworld. Kelsey would delight him. What she would make of Le Maître, Theo wasn’t sure.
“Sit up,” he said shortly. “Sit back on your heels.”
She flinched as she rested her marked ass cheeks on her feet. Her palms came to rest atop her thighs. So beautiful. He went to the cabinet, to his training reward stash. He drew out a red sugar straw and carried it over to her. “Tongue out, ladybug.”
She gave him a look, a tired smile, and complied. He spilled the sugar on her tongue. The first time he’d done it he made her close her eyes and she’d laughed, aspirated the powder, and choked it up for a good five minutes. No such drama now.
She smiled again, savoring the treat, her reward for being a good girl. She stuck out her tongue at him when she finished. It was stained in red. It made almost a shape of a heart, that sugar stain.
As he held her later in bed, freshly showered and scrubbed, cuddling in his arms, he thought about that heart and knew he was losing his mind. Theo Zamora didn’t fall in love. It was weakness, silliness. He had no intention of falling for Kelsey Martin, of all people. But impulses and longings were funny things. Even for Theo, they were impossible to control.
She slept on, exhausted and so trusting. At peace, as she always was.
Sweet. So sweet.
Chapter Eleven: Le Maître
They were six weeks out from Cirque du Minuit’s premiere night. The set was finished, the costumes ready to go. The tickets had gone on sale that morning, and the first week had sold out in under an hour. Twenty-five hundred seats, times eight weekly performances. Kelsey did the math in a sort of wonder. Twenty thousand people a week to watch her perform. Twenty thousand people to witness any flubs they didn’t have straightened out by then.
Tonight they were scheduled to put on their costumes for the first time and do a run through for Michel Lemaitre. God help them if he didn’t like what he saw.
Theo scowled at her now in the midst of the set, his hands on his hips. “I don’t believe it yet,” he said. “You have to make me believe.”
“I don’t understand. Believe what?”
“The story. The interaction between the two of us.”
Kelsey was puzzled. “It’s a man trying to catch a bug.”
“It’s more than that.” Theo sighed, like she was the biggest idiot on the planet. “It’s about mistakes and disappointment. About the things we want but shouldn’t have. You know,” he said, rolling his eyes, “like your friend Wayne.”
Kelsey still met with Wayne for dinner a couple times a week. Unlike Theo, who simply took what he wanted from her, Wayne courted her. Wayne made her feel special, worthwhile. He made her feel like a girl on a date, which Theo couldn’t be bothered to do.
Theo mocked Wayne mercilessly and fucked her to pieces on the nights Wayne took her out. For his part, Wayne took every opportunity to tear Theo down and pour warnings in her ear about how dangerous and insane Theo was. It amused Kelsey for a while, that they were fighting over her, but now it was getting kind of irritating.
The problem was, while Wayne was perfect boyfriend material, he didn’t do much for her emotionally. Or sexually. They hadn’t slept together yet, although Wayne had tried putting the moves on her a few times at the Citadel. He just wasn’t as exciting to her as Theo. There didn’t seem to be much to discover beneath his friendly, charming veneer.
Whereas Theo seemed to reveal more magic to her every hour they spent together.
Oh, really? Magic? Theo was far from a romantic hero. He held her at arm’s length, toyed with her, fucked with her mind. Even if Theo would consider getting into a long term relationship with her, it would be so unconventional and scary she’d end up breaking up with him within a week. Theo was the bad boy. The one who couldn’t be tamed.
Which was the only reason she wanted him so much. Ugh.
With Wayne, she could picture dating, engagement, marriage, all the things that made sense to her. A wandering life in the circus, offset by the security of their bond to each other. Their very...boring...bond.
“Are you listening to me?” Theo scolded, drawing her back from her thoughts. “Michel is going to be here in”--he looked at his watch--“forty-five minutes. This is your future in Cirque du Monde. And later--” His words cut off, his mouth a tight line.
“Later what?”
“Tonight, later, you’ve been invited to the back room of the Citadel. To Le Maître’s room.”
“I have?” Kelsey’s heart beat a little faster. “Tonight? What about you?”
“I’ll be there too, of course. Don’t look so worried. This is why I didn’t want to tell you until after the run through. I knew you’d get all panicky.”
Kelsey examined her feelings. Was she panicky? She was curious about Michel Lemaitre, just like everyone else, and also flattered that he’d taken an interest in her. He didn’t invite many into his inner sanctum. She was sure it was only because of Theo. But the artists Lemaitre took under his wing ended up being the luminaries of the Cirque du Monde world. The ones with the most artistic freedom, with the most say in the development of their acts.
Like Theo. Wayne still insisted Lemaitre had used his far-reaching power and influence to protect one of his favored stars from a murder rap. Kelsey didn’t know what to believe. She only knew that if she was summoned, she would go to Lemaitre.
She wanted his power on her side.
They began to practice again. Theo was so effortlessly theatrical as the man on a quest to catch his beautiful butterfly. Kelsey flitted and flew, teasing him until she realized he was stronger than she was. By then it was too late, and her delicate wings were crushed by his ill-fated pursuit.
Kelsey wasn’t an idiot. She caught the parallels. When Theo mourned over her broken wings at the end of the act, did he think of Minya? He’d broken her. According to Wayne, he’d killed her, but that couldn’t be true. Still, there had to be those who believed it.
Minya’s family believed it. Because of them, Theo had been summoned to Paris to talk to investigators yet again. He’d been gone two days and returned distant and taciturn, but cleared of any culpability in the matter. Minya’s family had returned to China, their hopes for a scapegoat dashed. It had just been an accident, a horrible accident. Just like the man damaging the butterfly’s wings.
Poor Theo. Kelsey wanted to fix him. She cared for him so much.
Part of the reason she hid her emotions from Theo when they performed was because she felt so intensely for him. But now, for this evaluation, to please him, she let them unfold like a butterfly’s wings. In character, she attracted his interest, preened under it, flying on her silk during their acrobatic dance of pursuit and evasion. She showed the terror when she was caught, when he slid with her down the silk. She showed her confusion to find herself in the arms of her admirer, suddenly unable to fly when flying had been like breathing her entire life.
As the music drew their act to a haunting close, Kelsey lay in Theo’s arms beneath the silks, damaged and broken, while he looked on her in horror. So ended the Cirque du Minuit, a show about humanity’s dark compulsion to acquire the things they shouldn’t have.
The sadness of the situation settled on her with a new realization, and she looked up at Theo with tears in her eyes. She didn’t know if she was crying for them, or crying for the man and the butterfly. Theo stared back, mesmerized for a moment, before his expression hardened back into his businesslike coach persona.
“Okay,” he said. “Do it that way for Michel. Emotion. Beauty. It has to be striking. This will be the penultimate moment, the finale of the show.”
“I know.” Kelsey sat up, dashing away tears. Theo pretended not to notice, and then the costume designer was beck
oning to them from the side of the stage.
By the time they reached the costume rooms Kelsey had mostly composed herself. She noted Theo’s costume, bright for once. Royal blue pants and a light white cotton shirt. But then the costume director pulled out her costume and she burst into tears again.
“Oh, Kelsey. It’s not so bad,” said Theo. “It’ll look cute on you.”
“It’s not a butterfly,” she said between little sobs.
“I thought this would be better. More fitting for you. More mysterious, to fascinate the man. Butterflies are so trite, Michel wouldn’t like it.”
A black ladybug costume with red spots. Small delicate wings of formed cellophane. “Don’t you like it?” the costumer asked. “I think it will work perfectly in the show.”
Kelsey didn’t know why she was crying. The black ladybug knew there was nothing wrong with her. That she was just different. Kelsey wanted Theo, ached for him, but she was the red ladybug. Typical. Conventional. She let the costumer tuck her hair into her black ladybug hood with sequined antennae. Kelsey had to pretend to be the rare black ladybug for the act, and after, in the Citadel’s back room.
But it was all fake. The truth was, she deserved Wayne, with his wholesome, predictable demeanor and his cloying smile. That thought made her cry even harder. She took a fistful of tissues from the costumer’s assistant and escaped to sit in front of a mirror in the adjoining dressing room. This was not the ideal time to fall apart. She breathed in and out, calming her emotions.
Theo showed up at the door a few minutes later. “Okay, Kels?” he asked. “Are you scared?”