He paused in the act of rolling on the condom. “Yes. She wanted a baby. Liam...I don’t know.” He smoothed the latex the rest of the way down. “It’s a long story. But they’ll be good parents. They’re excited to try this new thing.”
“Do you think she’ll dance again?”
He leaned over her, stroking her hair. “I don’t know. I don’t think she wants to dance anymore. Someday, you will be tired of dancing too.”
Petra shook her head before she even thought about it. A world without dance made no sense to her. Stopping, losing her talent, losing the physical ability to do her work...horrifying.
“You don’t think so,” he said, “but there’s so much more to life than what you know.” He held her gaze, smoothing his palm down her belly to the cleft between her legs. “There’s a lot besides dancing. But it’s okay. For now, no babies. Just sex.”
He held her close, stroking her, soothing her with his skillful touches. After a while he turned her so they spooned together, her back to his front. His cock nudged into her from behind, filling her with a long, slow slide. While this coupling wasn’t as frantic and forceful as their previous ones, she felt as controlled as ever cradled within the heat and strength of his chest. He parted her pussy lips and toyed with her clit, and then moved his fingers up to whisper across her sensitive nipples, before delving them down between her legs again.
Petra felt impatient in bed sometimes, maybe because she often didn’t enjoy what her partners were doing, but oh...she liked this. He was so calm, so firm and steady as he fucked her. She really did start to feel a strange combination of sleepiness and arousal. Pleasure built alongside relaxation. He kneaded her shoulders and she reached back to grip his thigh, squeezing the hard muscle when he located a particularly delicious spot.
I want...
Petra had never known she wanted this. Or maybe she’d wanted it forever. This warmth, this gratification. This closeness. She’d never, ever felt this close to someone before. Finally, with no real effort on her part, she reached that point where her breath grew short, and her body strained to achieve completion. He pressed his cheek against hers and sighed. “Mm, yes. Come for me.”
The deep, gruff timbre of his voice vibrated down to her core. His hand spread out on her pussy like he was saying this is mine. He slipped his fingertips over her clit and her breath left in a rush. An orgasm started there, right where he touched her, and rolled over her entire body, from her breasts to her shoulders to her head, to her knees and calves, to the tips of her toes. She clamped down on his thick cock as he buried himself deep inside her. One of his hands squeezed in her hair, to the point of pain, past the point of pain, until he unwound behind her.
Then there was nothing. Only satisfaction and his strong arms, and safety...and sleep.
Chapter Twelve: Okay
Rubio dreamed he was at home in Rio, standing outside a bakery near his neighborhood. Cinnamon and vanilla scents wafted in the air. He was a child again, wishing for sweet buns and pastries he couldn’t afford to have. He stretched and came to a slow realization that he wasn’t in Brazil at all, but lying in bed beside Petra with his nose buried in her tousled blonde hair.
He blinked, looking toward the window, and stirred gently so he didn’t wake her up. It was still early. Growing up in the hustle and noise of the favela, with the shouting of his brothers and sisters and mother and father, he’d never mastered the art of deep sleep. He could appreciate quiet though, and peace. He gazed down at the girl in his arms, watching the subtle fluttering of her lashes. He wanted to put his cock inside her but she was tired. Last night had been difficult, and she’d been restless for hours before she settled down.
He slid from the bed and pulled some sweats from the bureau across the room. He padded downstairs and found Mem making coffee in the kitchen. The old man nodded to the dining room and Rubio drifted into the large, formal space. Liam sat at the head of the table with papers spread out in front of him. He didn’t even look up when Ruby sat down.
“Petra still sleeping?” he asked, his cheek resting on his palm.
“Yes. Dreamland.”
Liam passed a grainy eight-by-ten photograph across the table. “Paulsen went exactly where we thought he’d go, to Petra’s building. He buzzed for about ten minutes, and then snuck in behind another resident.”
Rubio studied the photo of Petra’s stalker. He was a normal-looking guy, with light hair and a slightly rounded, forgettable face. If he passed Paulsen on the street, he’d look right through him.
“What happened at her door?” Ruby asked.
Liam took the photo back. “He knocked. And knocked. And knocked. Eventually he slid a note underneath.”
“You put a guy inside?”
“Yeah, I put a guy inside. I didn’t know if he’d try to break in and make himself at home. After he left, he checked into a hotel halfway between her place and the theater. She won’t be able to walk around town for a bit. Not without crossing his path.”
“Thanks for letting her stay here,” Rubio said to his friend, feeling uncharacteristically somber. “Me too. But especially her.”
“It’s safer here.” Liam tapped restlessly at the note. “I’m worried though, and I don’t worry easily. I have a really off feeling about this guy.”
“What does that mean? Odd feeling?”
“No, off feeling. Like something’s off. I can’t figure out where this guy’s head is at. He’s angry with you, that’s a given. My worry is what happens when he starts to feel angry with her.”
Mem came in with coffee and joined them. As Liam’s assistant, he’d already know the details of the case. He might even have been the man who stayed at Petra’s apartment last night.
“What about the theater?” Ruby asked. “There’s a security system, but people slip in, invite friends. There are visitors and deliveries, always outsiders wandering around.”
“That’s gonna have to change, at least while Paulsen’s in London. Based on the obsessive nature of his behavior and his actions last evening, Petra’s been granted an emergency restraining order. Next move is to get him bounced back to New York.”
“How do we do that?”
“Through legal channels. I’m working on it. It might take a few days or a couple weeks. It depends.”
“Can I see the note he left her?”
Liam had photocopies in front of him but he handed Rubio the original. He expected blood-soaked drawings and curse-laden fragments but it was handwritten in very even, neat print.
Since you don’t seem inclined to come back, or answer my emails, I decided to come here. I think you’re very confused about what’s going on between us. I’ve come here to make things a bit more clear.
I know you’re busy with your dancing, and I have patience—to a point. I have less patience with continually rude behavior. If you don’t meet with me soon, or start replying to my emails, I’m going to assume you have no respect for me and do what it takes to rectify that. Whatever it takes.
Dearest Petra, you belong with me. I’ll take good care of you and in return I know you’ll take good care of me. You’ll always be my pretty little girl, but you’re being awfully headstrong right now. I don’t want to hurt you because that will hurt me, so let’s hope this is only a rebellious phase. Your “friend” Rubio is probably putting ideas in your head that aren’t true. I don’t want him touching you. I’ll do what I have to do to make that stop.
Talk to me, Petra. Let’s straighten things out between us.
He concluded with his number and the address of his hotel. Ruby re-folded the note. “I’ll do what I have to do to make that stop. What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. The threats are so vague. It would be easier if he diagrammed out his diabolical plans in detail. I’m going to ambush you outside the stage door and slit your throat with a serrated knife. See, then we’d know what we’re dealing with.”
Mem made a chiding sound. “Don’t joke about such things.”
“I’m kidding,” he said to his friend with a sympathetic half-smile. “He hasn’t said anything like that. He hasn’t said anything useful at all, except that he disapproves of you, and he’s disgruntled with Petra’s behavior and he wants her to return home to live with him. Happily ever after, etcetera.”
Ruby shook his head. “I never understood this stalking thing, how people can be so...out of reality. ‘You’ll always be my pretty little girl. I don’t want to hurt you because it will hurt me.’ Is ridiculous, silly. Melodramatic.”
“But look, Ruby, this is a guy who, for whatever reason, has taken an extended vacation from reality. He comes from a wealthy family, probably has always gotten his way from day one. He has no job, few friends, just his fantasies and desires racing around in his head. He believes, literally, that he owns Petra. That she’s run away from his loving care and that he has a right to collect her. What if his ultimate plan is to drag her back to New York and chain her up in his place?”
Rubio scoffed, stirring cream into his coffee. “He could never do it. She wouldn’t quietly get on a plane, or quietly go to his place and cooperate.”
“No, she wouldn’t. So what do you think happens then? When she doesn’t go quietly? When she stands up to him and tells him to go fuck himself? What have sociopathic, scorned men done to women throughout history?”
Mem shifted in the silence, his face a fathomless mask. Rubio stared down into his coffee. Petra was in danger. Real, honest-to-goodness danger.
“How long will she have to worry?” asked Rubio. “How long will this go on? Forever?”
Liam hunched over the papers, shuffling them into a disorganized pile. “I don’t know. I wish I could tell you that this will be over next week. That he’ll come to his senses and fuck off back to New York. I wish that would happen, but I doubt it will. Maybe the restraining order will make a difference. Maybe he’ll go on some meds and get over her. Maybe he’ll get hit by a bus. Problem solved.”
“You can make that bus thing happen, can’t you?” he asked his friend hopefully.
“I could, except it would be first-degree murder, which is against the law.” Liam pushed the papers away from him with a sigh. “It would be easier if she could disappear for a while. If she wasn’t so accessible to the public. There’s nothing to stop him coming to watch her perform every night if he wanted to. He could sit in the front row, practically reach out and touch her. He could slip backstage while the lights are low—”
“I’m not quitting ballet because of him,” said Petra.
The two men turned. She and Ashleigh stood in the doorway, still dressed in their pajamas. “You don’t have to stop,” said Ash, putting an arm around her. “You shouldn’t have to rearrange your life because of him.”
“I never said she should stop.” Liam made a helpless gesture. “I just wish you were something a lot less flashy, like a dry cleaner or a pest control technician.”
“A pest control technician?” Ashleigh echoed, giving him a look.
“Petra cannot stop being who she is,” said Mem in his low, clipped voice. “It will be important for Paulsen to discover his arrival does not impact her life at all.”
“Yes,” agreed Liam. “You have to keep dancing, Petra. You have to keep going to the theater as if nothing’s changed.”
“What about staying at my apartment?” Petra asked as she and Ashleigh took seats at the table.
Liam shook his head. “Sorry. That, I can’t let you do. Not alone anyway. I have guys there, if you want to—”
“You have guys in my apartment?” asked Petra at the same time Ruby made a protesting sound.
“She’s not staying there with your ‘guys,’” he huffed.
“My guys are trustworthy,” Liam said. He turned to Petra. “And they’re only there to protect your property. I wouldn’t put it past Paulsen to break in. They can also monitor how often he stops by to knock on the door, and whether he leaves additional notes.”
“Additional notes?”
Liam touched the folded-up missive on top of the papers. “He went straight to your place from the airport last night, which we expected. He snuck upstairs and slid this under the door when you didn’t answer his knock. You don’t need to read it. It says the same stuff all the others say.”
Ashleigh gave Petra a sympathetic look. “Don’t give him the satisfaction of listening to his words. I have no patience with men who do asshole stuff to women. Put me in a room with this guy and I’ll shear off his shriveled nuts with a rusty saw.”
Ruby’s lips twisted into a smile. Ash was so sweet and cute until she lost her temper—then all bets were off. He’d had that temper turned on him more than once in their dancing career.
“Ash, honey.” Liam pulled her into his lap. “It’s too early in the morning for your graphic imagination. But if I remember correctly, Mem, we have a rusty saw down in the garage.”
“Yes,” said the old man. “We do.”
“I have to go in today,” Petra said. “We have rehearsals, and Giselle tonight. I’m also expecting a shipment of shoes. I can go to work, can’t I?”
“Of course you can go to work,” Mem said. “You must continue with your life while we endeavor to fix this problem. Mr. Rubio will be with you,” he added, nodding in his direction.
Mr. Rubio would definitely be with her. Until this crazy man left the country, Rubio wasn’t letting Petra out of his sight.
*** *** ***
Petra swept across the stage, her expression blank and grim. In Act One she danced happy, vibrant Giselle, but in Act Two she danced dead Giselle, drifting aimlessly about the Kingdom of the Wilis. The Wilis were an army of bitter, ethereal bitches, all the heartbroken women who’d been jilted by their true loves. Her mother could have been a Wili. With Rubio in her life now, her mother was on her mind all the time. I’m sorry, mom. I’m sorry Grigolyuk didn’t love you, but you have to be happy for me. Rubio’s a wonderful man.
A week had passed since they’d moved in with Liam and Ashleigh, and like Giselle, Petra’s life had split into two acts. Act One was normal, busy daytime and Act Two was the dark night, dying in Fernando Rubio’s arms. Not literally dying, but something like it.
She glanced over to find him watching her from the wings. It didn’t escape either of them that Rubio, as Albrecht, spent a good part of the second half kneeling at Giselle’s grave. It was creepy for both of them, a constant reminder of the very worst that might happen.
They dealt with the danger in their own ways. Petra funneled her energy into dance, and Rubio hovered constantly, all over her. Since her stalker showed up in London, Rubio literally didn’t let her out of his sight. They woke together, ate together, roamed the halls of City Ballet together, performed together, and left through the stage door to go home together.
All this togetherness translated into very unhelpful tabloid headlines. City Ballet Romance! From Enemies to Lovers! Wedding in the Wings! As a result, Paulsen’s notes became angrier. He started calling her cell phone twenty or thirty times a day, until she turned it over to Liam’s people and got another one. It was a hassle but she wasn’t willing to stay away from Rubio just to keep Paulsen happy. If anything, she wanted to rub her happiness in the man’s face. Her fear had long since turned to fury. She wanted to annoy him in any way she could. She hated Gary Paulsen.
And she was falling in love with Rubio a little more each day.
Later, after the final reverences, after her tutu and black wig were put away and they returned to their room at Liam’s, she trembled naked against him.
“Beautiful girl,” he whispered, stroking between her legs. “My good girl.” He punctuated the “my” with a squeeze of her slick pussy lips. “You’re so wet for me. You’re mine, aren’t you?”
He captured her moan of assent in a kiss. She couldn’t bear the thought of Paulsen wanting to own her, but Rubio...totally different story. When he turned her around to face the wall, she obeyed with a delicious pang of fear. He gave her two sharp slaps on the ass and she hopped onto her toes. He gave an appreciative chuckle and began to grope her again, pinning her to the wall so she couldn’t move. She bucked her hips as he teased her clit, drawing moisture from her pussy up over the aching button.
“Oh, please,” she whined.
“Please? You do what I please,” he taunted her. “It feels good, no?”
She whined again, at an even higher register. He was killing her and they’d just gotten started. “It...yes...it feels good.”
He hummed as his fingers found the opening of her sex and drove inside. She tensed and skittered sideways when he probed her asshole with the pad of his thumb.
“Don’t pull away,” he said. “Let me do it, if it pleases me.”
“I’m embarrassed.”
“Of your asshole? Jesus, girl, I’m going to fuck it some day. Soon. You won’t be embarrassed much longer, not when I’m done with you.”
Now she’d gone from embarrassed to terrified.
Is okay to be scared.
She repeated the words to herself like a mantra, whenever he did scary stuff she’d never experienced before. “Relax,” he said sharply, spanking her ass again. “Don’t be a naughty girl.”
That was easy for him to say as he worked his thumb all the way into her ass. She squirmed at the unfamiliar sensation. It felt uncomfortable. Invasive. There wasn’t a chance in hell of his cock ever fitting in there but if he wanted to threaten her with the possibility, she’d play along. His other fingers still pumped in her pussy. She rode his hand, wishing she had something to rub her clit against. When she tried to grind the wall, he stilled her hips.
“No, not yet. No coming yet.”
“I can’t help when I come.”
“You’ll learn how to help it. I’ll teach you. But not now.”
He drew his fingers out of her body, leaving her feeling empty and horny. “Stay here against this wall,” he said. “Don’t move and don’t dare come. Don’t touch your pussy. You understand?”
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