Christmas Captive

"I like spoiling you," he shrugged with a mischievous look. "It won't hurt. And you'll dance for me when we get home, so I'm sure you’ll work it off.”

While we'd been in the main area of the Opera, I'd noticed people staring at us. There were some eyes on me, but mostly, it was Grayson who held everyone's attention. I was quickly coming to realize just how important and influential he was. These people respected him, and what was more, it seemed every person in the building knew his name. I was impressed.

For the rest of the ballet, Grayson's hand snuck back up my knee, this time inching closer and closer to the spot between my legs that was so very eager for his touch. But he never touched it, not even brushing his fingers against it once.

Finally, when the performance was over, I clapped louder than anyone else in that room. I stood up with a bright smile, impressed by the wonderful performance. I was deeply grateful to Grayson for bringing me there, and once we left the room in the company of an employee, my hand snuck into his, and I intertwined my fingers with his, squeezing his palm gently. Our eyes met. I didn't have to say a word—he knew I was grateful, and his smile told me he was proud of me.

In the lobby of the opera, people milled in small groups. Grayson held everyone's attention. I noticed men and women alike watching us closely, and it filled me with a strange sense of pride.

I thought I saw a familiar face in the crowd, and I had to do a double take to make sure. But there was no doubt about it. Capri, the Le Cabaret dancer who'd told me about Couture House was there, in the presence of a familiar-looking man in his fifties with a shock of dark grey hair.

She spotted me too, and her worried expression stretched into a smile. But her face fell the next moment as the man seemed to notice her attention had shifted. He reprimanded her, grabbing her by the arm and making me wonder how hard his grip was when Capri winced.

"Seen someone you know?" Grayson muttered in my ear, and I nodded, turning to face him.

"My friend, Capri," I said. "She's the one you should thank for making me go to Couture House in the first place."

"Well then," he smiled broadly. "We might as well head over there and thank her now. I trust you recognize the man with her, too?"

"I don't," I muttered, feeling ashamed. Was I supposed to recognize him? "Who is he?"

Grayson smiled widely at me. "He's the other man who almost outbid me at your auction. Come, let's say hello."

My smile faded. I remembered the gray-haired man then, sitting in the audience as I stood up on the stage in the auction house in Notting Hill. I wasn't exactly thrilled about saying hello to him, but Grayson's lecture on obedience was still too fresh on my mind for me to disagree.

I meekly followed him to the other end of the room where Capri's smile grew once she saw us nearing her.

"Capri!" I exclaimed, hugging her close. Her body was stiff under my embrace, as if she were nervous to display any kind of affection toward me. But her eyes spoke volumes, and I was worried to see signs of pain in her once innocent gaze.

"It's so good to see you," she whispered in my ear when I pulled back from the hug. "So good."

"Kline," the man with her spoke coolly, but his interest shifted to me after the greeting. "Is this the little toy you picked up for yourself the other day? No, it can't be."

"Indeed it is," Grayson replied with a smooth smile, proprietorially wrapping an arm around my waist. I felt shivers go down my spine when he touched my exposed back. "Finding it hard to believe?"

"Well, she looks much better," the older man chuckled. "She was nothing more than a street urchin at the auction."

My smile fell. The man was rude, and I didn't enjoy his leering gaze as he devoured my body with his eyes. I didn't like what he'd said about me. As if I was worth nothing before Grayson got his hands on me.

"From what I remember," I spoke up. "You were more than eager to get your hands on me even when I was just a street urchin."

"Doesn't she have a mouth on her," the older man smirked, ignoring me as if I were just a useless toy. "You'll have to clip that tongue, Kline. Or maybe I could discipline her myself."

"No," Capri cut in. "Please don't."

"Did I ask you a question?" the man hissed.

"No, Sir, I'm sorry, but-"

"Then shut up." His tone left no room for arguing and I paled at the way he treated her. I was grateful when Grayson's arm pulled me in closer.