Bound in Blue (Cirque Masters 2)

“A condition?” she asked, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“A medical condition which requires you to have sex at least once an hour? As I said, please be honest. There will be no repercussions, and we will make allowances as we may.”

“No, there’s no medical condition.” She straightened, wishing there was a way she could instantaneously be sitting back in her chair. “I’m sorry. I misunderstood what you were asking.”

“That seems patently clear. When I want sex from my partners, I am very direct about it.” He indicated that she should go sit down again. “If I am not demanding sex from you, you may rest assured it is not desired.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, miserably. His cool tone wasn’t mocking, but Valentina nonetheless felt mocked. “I do have a bit of a condition. I am too enthusiastic sometimes. Too impulsive and passionate, not just with sex, but everything.”

“These are excellent problems to have, in my opinion. Before I knew you were called La Vampa di Napoli, I sensed you had a bit more fire than everyone else. I need your fire, Miss Sancia.”

She stared at him, at his broad, classically handsome face, his generous mouth. What was there to say to such a man? “You can have my fire, signore. As much as you want.”

He leaned forward, fixing her with the full weight of his stare. “What if I want all of it?”

Did he mean—? She leaned forward to go to him again.

“No.” He held up a hand. “I do not mean that. I mean that we are to mount a new production here in Paris. New cast, new performances, new blood. I have conceived a show about the elements, but it needs a central symbol. A flame, a fire, an explosion of life to anchor the rest of the acts. You understand? The show needs a spirit to drive it. You have this spirit and I want to use it to delight Paris audiences. The production will be named Cirque Élémental.”

“But...” She wasn’t sure what he was asking of her. “I’m an acrobat, a banquine flyer. I don’t have an act to last an entire show.”

“Not an entire show. There will be other acts, but you’ll be the show’s figurehead, the vision on the poster. We’ll create an entire production with ten or fifteen other acts. Dance, lights, costumes, humor and pathos, feats of strength and agility. You know...circus.”

The steady tone of his voice never altered, but some deeper challenge in his gaze excited her almost beyond bearing. At the same time, he was making it clear he wanted her artistry, not her sexual advances. He hadn’t wanted her on her knees before him. Very sad.

“I will do whatever you like, Mr. Lemaitre. Simply tell me.” She gave him a look, one she hoped communicated that she was his vessel to use, artistically or otherwise. “Whatever you want from me, sir, I am yours.”