Three Guilty Pleasures (Blindfold Club 6)

A short laugh burst from me, and it felt good. I needed the stress relief.

“The interview went well?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Of all the steps today, this was the one I hadn’t been nervous about. I talked to strangers all the time—and usually I was naked when I did it. “It was easy.”

He glanced at the screen of his phone. “We’ve got a few hours. Should we get lunch?”

I was too nervous to eat, but it would keep me occupied. “Yeah, and I’m buying.”

The Auditorium Building was attached to Roosevelt University, and at the student commons, there was a pizza place. We sat in the cafeteria area, and Grant ate voraciously while I nibbled. I didn’t want the pizza to make a return trip. I’d never thrown up before a performance, but then again, I’d never had one quite like this.

As he inhaled his food and I watched, I told him about the interview. The theatre had been dark, but huge lights were erected on the stage, shining out onto the seats where I’d been instructed to sit. There were cameras and a man in a Dance Dreams shirt sitting on the end of the stage, who’d asked about my background, why I was auditioning, and what it would mean if I won.

Grant wiped his face with a napkin, balled it up, and tossed it in the nearby trash can. His focus landed on the single slice of pizza in front of me. “You don’t like it?”

“I’m not hungry.”

His brow furrowed, and Jesus, his concern was sexy. “You need to eat. You’ll want the energy later.”

I twisted my hands together, not sure what else to do. My stomach churned, and I worried I was going to rattle apart. “I don’t think I can.”

He blinked slowly, considering something. Then, as he sat back in his chair, he crossed his arms, putting his thick biceps and gorgeous forearms on display. “What if I told you to do it?”

My breath hitched. “Like, an order?”

He nodded cautiously. He hadn’t attempted to dominate me outside of the bedroom, at least not this outright.

“Well, then,” I dropped my voice to a hush, “I’d do it.”

His eyes flared with power, intense and sexual. “Eat.”

So, I did. I didn’t taste the food as I chewed and swallowed, and it didn’t satisfy the hunger growling inside me. He watched me attentively and pleased, not speaking until even the crust was gone.

The food seemed to settle my stomach, or perhaps it was the distraction of him, but when we were done and headed back to the main lobby, the nerves stole back into my system.

“I’m going to get changed,” I announced. “You want to find a quiet place for us to practice?” He’d need to find a space where his music wouldn’t disrupt anyone else.

“Are you sure?” There was a clock in the lobby, and he checked the time. “We’ve still got two hours before standby.”

Like a gazelle fleeing a lion, I wanted to bolt from the threat of anxiety. Escaping to a restroom was better than nothing. And once I was dressed in my soloist costume, I could focus on practicing. “I . . . the waiting is killing me.”

He understood. “All right. If I’m not back before you’re ready, just hang out here.”

The ladies room had a sitting area in the front, and after I’d wiggled into my costume in a handicap stall, I checked myself out in the full-length mirror. The costume was white and two pieces, and the halter top was accented with rhinestones and beads crawling along the left strap.

I’d had them added after changing my music. How could I dance to a song called “Chandelier” and not have some sparkle? Otherwise, the costume was rather simple and flattering. The top flattened me down for support, but also had padding so I kept a nice shape.

Once again, I went with a bold, deep red lip color and muted makeup elsewhere.

Grant was waiting for me when I was finished, and his appreciative gaze swept down. “You look beautiful.”

I smiled nervously. The pangs were back in my stomach.

He’d changed too, although all it required was putting on a black button-down dress shirt. He’d kept it untucked from his jeans and rolled the sleeves back, leaving the top two buttons undone. He looked casual and cool. He’d offered to dress up, but I nixed it. He was an extension of me in the performance, so I didn’t want either of us to look stuffy.

“Did you find us a spot?” I asked. He must have. He didn’t have his case with him.

“Yes. I even stole a folding chair.” The corner of his mouth tweaked up into a smile.