Ballet Master by Cassie Mint

Eleven

Paige

Six years later

The applause is deafening. It beats against my ear drums and rattles my teeth. I drop into another curtsy, beaming so wide my cheeks ache.

I did it.

I danced the black swan.

My eyes slide backstage, to the man waiting in the wings. Raphael insists on attending every performance, though he quickly learned to watch from backstage so that the press don’t mob him.

I like him back here, anyway. He’s closer.

I can feel his eyes on me.

And between scenes, when I have breaks from being on stage, he sweeps me into hidden alcoves and kisses my neck. Feeds me sips of chilled water from my bottle and massages my legs.

He’s watching me now, lust and adoration burning in his dark eyes. Everyone can see it—the stage hands give him a wide berth, startled by his intensity.

My husband doesn’t frighten me. He is simply a very passionate man.

“Hello, sorcerer.” I wink at him when I finally run into the wings, my steps quick and delicate. “Have you come to corrupt your younger woman?”

“Always.” He yanks me to his chest, never mind the sweat cooling on my skin, then licks a stripe up my throat. “Though I’m not sure any more who is corrupting who.”

It’s a fair point. Half the time, it’s me seeking out Raphael and climbing his broad, toned body. I like to muss his hair. Make cracks in his iron-clad restraint.

I like to make the ballet master messy.

“You were perfect.” He scrapes his teeth along my jaw. “Perfect. As always.”

“I prefer dancing it with you,” I murmur against his temple. A shudder ripples through Raphael.

“Let’s go.” He takes my hand and tugs me towards the dressing rooms.

“But I left my shoes—”

“Leave them.”

“People are staring—”

Let them.”

I grin, letting him tug me along. This is all part of it. Part of the game. I squeeze his hand and he squeezes mine back. The other dancers and stagehands duck out of our path, eyes wide, but I don’t care.

He’ll make me cry out anyway.

Raphael Dupont is legendary for a reason. He knows how to put on a show.

* * *

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