How does he make normal things sound dirty? “You know…trees, peaches. That orchard.”
“Right.” He smirks. “Lead the way.”
God. “I’m not joking. I’ve been tending it every day. It’s a lot of work, almost as tiring as dancing. There’s a certain time you have to pick them and—”
I have to stop because Ivan is full-on laughing now, a deep baritone sound that I’m not sure I’ve ever heard before. I want to be mad at him, but I can’t. It’s too wonderful seeing him like this, his suit rumpled from the drive, a smile on his face, and lust in his gray eyes. There’s nothing left to do but laugh with him while I show him my orchard and all the pretty peaches. I pick one that’s ripe and low, feeding it to him and then me, so that both our lips are stained sticky sweet. He lays me down in the shade of a tree, and we do our best to work grass and dirt stains into a ten-thousand-dollar suit.
All my life I’ve been running, and I’m not going to stop now. Only this time when I run, it’s not away from someplace or someone. I’m running to someplace, to someone. The Grand is my home, and Ivan is my heart. When I am near them, the running turns to dancing. And the dancing is like prayer.
Chapter Thirty
I stand just outside the gates of the Grand, watching dusk set in. Streetlamps carve out sections of the street, flashing loose pavement like diamonds. The alleys are pitch black—anyone could be happening in them. Anything is happening in them. Men know better than to approach me. Ivan’s reputation—and my own—are well known. But I don’t fool myself that I’m safe in this city just because I love it. It’s like loving a volcano, knowing one day you’ll get burned.
A hand circles my wrist, and I jump.
When I turn, my heart thumps faster. Ivan. “You came.”
He leans in to place a kiss on my forehead, and I close my eyes. It feels so right—the faint heat of him, his breath. I shiver.
“Of course,” he says simply. This is a big night for the Grand. A big night for me. We’ve had a soft open for weeks now, but this is the official opening. Ivan has been incredibly busy growing his other businesses now that he isn’t spending all of his time at the Grand, but he makes sure to attend one show a week. And he swore he wouldn’t miss this one.
On impulse, I wrap my arms around him. “Thank you.”
He drops his chin on my hair. “You know you shouldn’t be out here without West.”
West is my new personal bodyguard. Now that Luca is with Sarah Elizabeth, he needed someone else to trust with me—and of course it’s the boy scout. “He’s helping inside,” I say, brushing over the fact that I ordered him to and then slipped away. He will not be pleased. “And besides, you’re here now.”
He raises one eyebrow, not amused. “Am I?”
Rhetorical questions mean I’m in trouble. To distract him I take a step back and finger the fine, blush-colored material of my dress. It’s constructed from layers that are like petals, and I twirl for maximum effect. It only blooms when I dance.
“What do you think?” I ask. One of the advantages of being a former stripper is that I can execute that move in sparkly gold Louboutin’s on cobblestone. “I look like a flower.”
He’s sufficiently distracted, eyes sweeping down to the floor. “A flower with incredible legs,” he mutters.
I bite my lip and step close. Some women seem to grow taller when their man appreciates them, gaining confidence—and that’s a beautiful thing. But me, I’m the opposite. I already have a surplus of confidence, of swagger. Only with Ivan can I let myself be small. I curl into him, just a little. Soon I’ll have to return to the crowd, to be the social butterfly, the hostess, but for now I let myself be his.
I play with the lapel of his jacket. “Are you going to take me down to the basement after?”
“Why? Have you been a bad girl?”
“Nooo,” I say, hoping he doesn’t ask for details, knowing he will. “I thought you could reward me for working so hard.”
“Ah,” he says in that short, knowing way of his. “Of course good girls should be rewarded. Tell me, little one. Did you eat dinner tonight?”
Shit. “Well… no. But I was thinking I could grab some hors d’ourves after I dance. My tummy is too twisted to eat anyway.”
“What about lunch?” he asks without missing a beat.
If I tell him the truth, he’ll be so mad. I could see him dragging me into the kitchens and standing over me until I ate something. “Yes,” I lie.
He studies me for a moment. Then he says, “All right. Go be beautiful and gracious and powerful. And when you are done, I will take you down to the basement.”
I shiver. “Please, Daddy.”
His mouth is next to my ear when he whispers, “I’ll have to punish you for that lie, little one.”
A squeak of alarm escapes me, but then West appears at the gate, looking haggard. Ivan sends him a disapproving look. Poor West. I do keep him on his toes. Speaking of which, I hope Sarah Elizabeth is keeping Luca on his toes. Now that I think about it, I’m sure she is.