Master's Flame (Cirque Masters 3)

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.” She paused a moment, chewing. “You yelled at her and scowled and stomped around like a hornet.”

“A hornet, Sara?”

“Yes, a hornet. Or whatever. Something angry and stinging. And I know why.”

He reached for his wineglass, fortifying himself with a large swig. “It’s difficult enough that we must arrange space for one another at the same fetish club. Please, can we not discuss my private life?”

“You and Valentina aren’t private. Everyone at Cirque knows what’s going on with the two of you. I know more than anyone, because I’ve been in her place.”

He choked. “You certainly have not.”

Her delicate skin deepened in a blush. “I mean that you loved me and you wouldn’t admit it, and you hid your feelings from me. Now you’re doing the same thing to Valentina and I think it’s really sad. I mean, do you have any idea how painful that was for me, your rejection?”

“I have some idea.” His chest ached a little, the way it always did when he remembered that time in their relationship. “I said I was sorry.”

“And I forgave you. We’re fine now. But what about Valentina?”

“What about her?” His voice sounded too defensive, even to his own ears. “Honestly, this is none of your affair.”

“It is my affair. Families look after each other. Families want each other to be happy.”

“Sara—”

“And here I am planning a wedding to celebrate love, and I see you with this girl who you obviously have feelings for, and I see how she’s changing you. I see the way you look at her, like you’ve never looked at anyone else. You’re smiling more, you’re laughing more, you’re frowning more. You’re doing everything more. You’re falling for her and I think that’s a wonderful thing.”

“Sara,” he said more sharply, holding up a hand. “When you’re in love, you tend to see love everywhere. But I assure you, Valentina and I are not in love. I’m not falling for her and we don’t have a future together. I could explain it to you in greater detail, but I would find it terribly awkward and so would you.”

“It’s not awkward to love someone. It’s wonderful. Magical.”

You have no idea, he thought. You haven’t seen the faces of love that I’ve seen. Whimsical, guileless Sara had made him into a father at this late stage in his life, and now she wanted him to fall in love too.

“Why are you fighting it?” she pressed.

“Why are you pushing it? Valentina would not make a suitable grandmother for your children.”

“Oh God. First of all, who says Jason and I are going to have kids? And even if we were...if we’re talking about suitable grandparents...” She arched a doubtful brow in his direction.

He put a hand to his heart. “You wound me.”

“Well, it’s true. Both of you are a little...different. But the pieces of you fit together just right.”

“How would you know?” An impatient edge crept into his tone. “How do you know what’s going on between us? It’s not the loving scenario you envision. It was an ill-advised entanglement to begin with, one that will shortly be over. I assure you, we will both be relieved.”

She started to say something else but he cut her off.

“While we’re on the subject of grandparents, Sara, perhaps I should tell you why I’ve never talked much about your grand-mere and grand-pere Leveille. Perhaps I should explain where I’m coming from. There’s enough bad blood in this family—”

His voice cut off as Sara visibly flinched.

“I didn’t mean your blood,” he said. “You’re the only good thing...the only good thing in my life,” he finished with some difficulty. He took a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Can we not talk about this?”

“You brought it up.” Of course, his daughter would know how to be brutal. “Tell me about my grandparents. Tell me about this bad blood. I’m curious.”

He needed more wine. Where was the damn waiter? “Have you ever loved someone so much that you wanted to kill them?” He said it softly, because in some way he didn’t want her to hear. “Do you know the feeling of being destroyed by love? Your grandmother—my mother—killed my father, but it could just as easily have gone the other way. That was how they loved each other. And me… Well.” He forced a pained smile. “Thank God you’re so much like your mother. I’m glad about that.”

“No, I’m just as much like you. You don’t have any bad blood, daddy, if that’s what you’re getting at. So my grandparents were fuck ups. You got away from them. You explored the world and you learned stuff and created a big circus that brightens millions of people’s lives. You’re one of the best men I’ve ever known.”

A forced laugh joined his forced smile. “That’s not true. Jason’s a great man, but me...” He shook his head. “You’re kind to humor your father.”

“I’m not humoring you.” Sara pushed away her plate and placed her napkin on the table. “I’m inviting Valentina to the wedding, okay? As for the rest of it, you need to figure it out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out.”

She shook her finger at him. “There’s plenty to figure out, but I have faith in you. You’re really smart.”

He bit his tongue. I love my daughter. I do, even when she’s pummeling me into a heap.

“Oh, and Jason and I are flying to California in mid-March so I can meet his family. Unless you want to come with us, the Citadel is yours that entire time.”

“I wish I could come with you, ma chère,” he said, seizing on this new, less threatening turn in the conversation. “Jason’s family is going to love you.”

No bad blood there, he added silently to himself. He was sure of it, or he’d never let her go.

Michel took his daughter home shortly afterward. She hugged and kissed him at the door as always, but there was tension between them he didn’t like. Well, brides-to-be were a ball of nerves, weren’t they? And so was he.

&n

bsp; He didn’t want to think about why.

*** *** ***

One more day.

Mr. Lemaitre had warned her at the start that she would regret giving herself over to him. He seemed to believe that returning to her own life and her own control was something Valentina should be happy about. And she was happy, a little. There was some sense of relief that after tonight she wouldn’t have to answer to his whims anymore. She wouldn’t have to submit to his sadistic play times or his huge cock coming at her from every direction. She wouldn’t have to report to his office during the day whenever he had a horny craving for her.

She also wouldn’t be close to him anymore.

Not that he had ever let her close. He put her away in a cage every night, but still, she was in his life. She was at his house. She was a room or two away from him even if he never allowed her to cuddle in his arms. She’d been awakened by him every morning and done BDSM scenes with him every night, not just play scenes, but intense, heightened scenes she’d become addicted to.

Who else would be able to excite her that way? She ticked through the list of men she knew at the Cirque. There were plenty who were strong and attractive, but none of them were Michel Lemaitre. None of them came close.

Her mind got all caught up when she tried to figure out why he attracted her so much. There were no words to explain it. She had tried to draw pictures of those feelings, pictures of how she felt about him, but she hadn’t had any success at that either. None of them were good enough. Maybe when she returned home she would work some more on her portrait of him, but now that she knew him better, she worried it would be all wrong.

She didn’t even want to think about going home.

Her Master had given Galvin their last night off. She wasn’t sure what that meant and she was afraid to ask. Was he going to finish their thirty days with such horrifying activities that he didn’t want anyone else in the house?

She wasn’t expecting any Valentine’s Day romance, that was for sure. She looked down at her plate, at the meal Mr. Lemaitre had cooked himself. Coq au vin, and it was the best she’d ever tasted. What would she do without him? The idea was so depressing she could barely breathe.