Lachlan's Protégé

by V. F. Mason

  She glances around before lowering her voice even more. “The ballet fairy who gives Patricia notes on who behaves well?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She nods and then presses her finger against her lips, sliding it in a zipping motion. “Won’t say a word.”

  “Good, now go. Your mom is probably waiting for you.” She runs away while I go to the board to make a few notes regarding their progress, when Patricia’s voice breaks the silence.

  “You can’t help them all.”

  I sigh heavily, as it’s an ongoing argument and I’d hoped she’d be too busy with finances today to hear Tina and me. “I can help Tina.”

  She shakes her head, sipping her coffee. “Valencia, this school was created for kids who have less chance to attend a private establishment. But it doesn’t mean you have to give it all to them. There should be work on the parents’ part too.”

  “Tina’s mom works two jobs, I think she does her best,” I state while she barely lifts a brow, more amused with my anger than bothered by it.

  But then Patricia is weird like that. Sometimes I think my old teacher lives in her head by her makeshift reality. She doesn’t have a family besides this school, so she’s naïve about a lot of things.

  “Ballet is work but not only for the kids. For the parents too. They have to involve their soul.” She sips her coffee again while I put my hair in a bun, hating the humidity in the room. This window AC is not working fast enough for me. “You constantly buy new stuff for them. You need to stop.”

  “I’m not your student anymore. I can do whatever I want,” I singsong while she frowns, wiggling her nose in disgust, but she grabs my arm when I pass by her going to the administration desk.

  “You are working here. You give a lot to this school. You can’t help and save everyone. Stop it.”

  Gently pulling my arm free, I wink at her while she huffs in displeasure, and I resume my walk to Adriana, who is on the phone with someone and gives me a folder.

  I read through it and just roll my eyes, because all it contains is some talk about a new progressive ballet technique they found. You just teach kids with your heart, and that’s about it. How can they learn something progressive if they didn’t get the basics?

  “Valencia,” Patricia calls, and I sigh heavily, so not in the mood for her lectures.

  “Look, I won’t change my mind, and I have tons of things to do, so how about—” I pause midsentence, blinking rapidly, but the image doesn’t go away.

  Kaden Lachlan Scott stands in the doorway of the ballet school, shrinking the spacious hall into a tiny place filled with his dominance and power.

  As freaking always!

  His black coat has traces of snow that he dusts off with his leather-gloved hand, and for a moment, I imagine what it would be like to have the leather touch my skin, and I bite the inside of my cheek.

  What the hell are those thoughts? I act like a horny teenager whenever he’s around.

  As always, his blue suit hugs him perfectly, and although it’s annoying, he is nothing but perfect.

  The perfect jerk who kissed me in the greenhouse.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask in a hostile tone, crossing my arms while he grins. But before he can answer, Patricia gasps and quickly goes to his side.

  I don’t think I’ve seen my teacher do anything this fast for another human being!

  “Forgive her, please. We just had a dispute. That’s why she is rude.” Adriana’s jaw drops too, and I lift my chin, silently asking if she knows anything, but she just shrugs. “Mr. Scott, I’m glad you came.”

  “Well, I couldn’t resist your invitation. I’m sorry I’m late.” He kisses the back of her hand, bowing slightly, showing off as the gentlemen he is not.

  Why does no one but me see him for the arrogant jerk he is?

  Her cheeks legitimately freaking blush as she waves her hand in the air. “Oh, no. I understand you are a busy man.” She circles the place with her palm. “Would you like a tour? So you know you’ve made a great investment.”

  Investment?

  At these words, I straighten up, panic swirling through me as I try to find meaning for this.

  Victor promised Patricia that no one will ever be able to destroy it and the kids have a safe haven. He did mention lately though that the place brought nothing but costs, and since Patricia refused charities, the school couldn’t even benefit from those.

  He didn’t sell it, right?

  Maybe I should have answered one of their calls; they are probably pissed off as hell for my silent treatment.

  But then something else strikes me. He never said out loud he bought this place. He just told me his opinions on the matter as a businessman whenever I brought up the subject.

  And Patricia never mentioned his name either.

  Oh my God. Could I have been wrong all these years and Victor wasn’t the one who saved this place?

  “No, I’ve seen it before. Although I wouldn’t mind knowing about the dance routine to see how progressive you are for the neighborhood and what kind of supplies you might need.”

  Patricia covers her mouth with her palm as she sighs. “You are a gift from heaven, Mr. Scott.” The minute she says it, something weird happens.

  The aura around him changes as he tenses, fisting his hands, but still keeping his smile intact, and if people weren’t watching him closely, they would probably miss it. But since I’m that idiot who always has my eyes on him, I catch it.

  Deep rage settling in his blue orbs as if she said something insulting.

  Such a strong reaction to one simple word?

  “That’s a stretch, Patricia.” He shifts his attention to me, “Shall we? I don’t have all the time in the world.”

  Yeah, and I’m what? His employee? He can take it all and shove it down his throat for all I care. People like him are sharks, and I sincerely doubt he cares much about the center. Patricia has no head for business and will even believe in unicorns if someone gives her a believable-enough story.

  I’ll have to call Victor tonight to figure out what is going on.

  “Of course. Valencia will show it to you.”

  “I’m not—” She sends me a warning glance and I huff. That’s as much as I can act out; she can make my life here impossible with her restrictions. It’s not as if I can be rude to the elderly, and this job is the highlight of my week.

  Dropping the folder back on the desk, I see how Adriana gives me a thumbs-up. I go back to the studio, opening the door widely, and call over my shoulder, “Mr. Scott, welcome to the Dancing Wings Ballet Studio.” Nothing but sarcasm laces my voice, and it’s followed by a chuckle.

  God, give me strength to survive this meeting before I commit a sin and kill him!

  Lachlan

  Valencia still sends daggers my way, but she manages to keep a forced smile on her face as she points to the studio for me. With a light bow and wink to the receptionist, whose cheeks heat up, I follow her lead and enter the spacious studio, only to frown at the smell. “Sorry, we didn’t expect royal guests,” she informs me, closing the door behind her with a loud thud.

  I shrug, fascinated by the anger flashing in her eyes. What does it take to break an angel out of her angelic shell? “That’s okay. You’ll do better next time.”

  She opens and closes her mouth and then exhales heavily, placing her hands on her hips while waiting a beat. Finally, she raises her chocolate, confused yet furious eyes to me, as she asks, “What are you doing here?”

  She makes it too easy to taunt her. “I own it.” And then it finally happens, and I barely contain my laughter.

  She darts toward me, poking her finger in my chest while fury coats her words. “Do you own every single thing that I like? What are you? A fucking king?” She gasps and covers her mouth with her hand as my brow lifts.

  “Princess, don’t curse, darling.” I press my finger to her lips before she can add another insult. “And yes, I am.” She has no idea just h
ow right she is.

  Although, I prefer the word mentor, but she is yet to discover that.

  “It’s your fault. What are you doing here?”

  Resting against the ballet barre, I motion at the studio. “Checking out investments my company has made.”

  Her brows furrow as she crosses her arms. “Really? You are telling me that all this time you are the one who has kept this place running?” Disbelief and a little dread lace her voice, so I smirk and she fists her hands.

  Ah, my little prey gets very passionate around me. Can’t say I don’t like it. “Correction. I don’t want to tell you anything, but if you are throwing facts, then yeah. My company keeps this place running, as you put it.”

  “Uggh!” she groans, pulling at her hair as she paces the studio while I watch her, studying her fairy-like body.

  She is gorgeous, like a statue that cannot be touched; otherwise, her magic will be gone.

  I intend to carve a real woman out of this fucking stone, who will live and her heart will beat for her passion and desire until she will crash and burn in her devastation and pain.

  “Is it because of Italy?” she suddenly asks, focusing her accusing stare on me. “Is it because I refused a relationship with you?”

  “Refused?” I repeat, rubbing my chin. “I don’t remember asking for it in the first place.” She grits her teeth, while I say, “We spent a week in Italy, doing all sorts of things. Among them was hot sex. That’s about it.”

  “You are—” She searches for words while gulping breaths. “You are so arrogant, so—”

  “Honest?” I supply, then unbutton my jacket, and her eyes land on my six-pack visible through the white shirt.

  Yeah, baby, admire it. It belongs to you anyway.

  At least while we are both alive.

  “Valencia, you never wanted more, but now it seems you are mad I didn’t either.”

  “We met in Italy, and then when I came home, Victor told me that you were doing business. You mean to tell me those two things are not connected?”

  Laughter slips past me, as I’m finding it fucking hilarious that she thinks her stepfather had anything to do with Italy. “What’s so funny?” She practically foams at the mouth, and I’ve had enough of this bullshit.

  She clearly needs a visual of what I’m after.

  Or what she needs to think I’m after.

  Catching her hand, I pull her to me while spinning her around so we are both facing the mirror. Her ass firmly plants against my hard-on that digs into her as her breath hitches, and our eyes meet in the mirror. “Do you see this woman?” I ask, sliding one hand down her breast and stomach that dips under my touch, while my other fists her hair, propping her more comfortably on my shoulder as I run my nose over her neck. Tugging on her hair, I demand, “Answer me.”

  She exhales heavily, but replies raspily, “Yes.”

  Nipping on her sensitive skin, I still her in my arms. Her back arches under my touch when I kick her legs apart a little and slide my hand lower to her pussy. “Do you see how gorgeous she is? Flushed, against me, with her body begging me to touch her and pleasure her. Why would I need any reason but that to want her?” Sucking on her earlobe, I quickly bite it before skimming my lips over her ear, and whisper, “What would you want me to do, Valencia? All this sassy attitude needs punishment, doesn’t it?” She moans, pressing harder against me. “Do you need my fingers?” I probe her a little, just enough to give her clit a little friction through her leggings. “My tongue? I remember you could get off on it for hours.”

  She groans, moving her head and seeking my mouth, but I pull her hair again as she cries out softly, and I know it only intensifies her pleasure. She is close just from the talk alone. That’s what happens when a woman like her is left unsatisfied for a long time.

  She is a very passionate creature.

  My passionate creature, because if any other men had access to that, they’d be dead.

  No one has the right to touch Valencia but me.

  For the time being.

  “No, I—” she croaks, and I bite her neck, sucking on the skin and leaving pale marks. “No? You want my cock, then? How was it last time? ‘Deeper, harder, Lachlan.’” She practically burns in my arms, her eyes closed, her skin flushed as her chest rises and falls, and then she surprises me.

  She turns around, wraps her arms around my neck, and smashes our mouths together, and our tongues meet without hesitation, already attuned to each other. Hiking her up, I push her against the wall and she tightens her legs around me while I dry hump her through our clothes, needing her as much as she does me.

  Six months without her is too fucking long.

  “Lachlan,” she moans, pressing even deeper while her hands scratch my back and hair as she tries to push off my jacket. “I need—”

  “I know.” I’m about to rip her fucking clothes off and grant her access to me, when I hear footsteps outside along with greetings.

  And then I come back to reality… in the kids’ studio… where I almost just fucked Valencia against the wall.

  Before she can even blink, I place her down and step back, breathing heavily while cursing myself inwardly.

  Who do I become when I’m around her? Not once has a woman evoked such emotions from me.

  And that makes Valencia very dangerous.

  Valencia

  He steps back from me and my eyelids flutter open. We are both breathing heavily as I touch my burning lips that are tender from all the kissing. I have a moment to see an unfamiliar emotion cross his face, but it’s almost immediately replaced with indifference. Within a second, nothing is left of the man who passionately ravished me in the ballet studio, and he is once again the ruthless, arrogant businessman I’ve known all this time.

  A knock sounds on the door, and then it opens with Bella entering, holding two coffees. “Next time, you’re going to stand in that fucking qu—” She halts and blinks in surprise, her head moving from me to Lachlan and back again.

  I groan inwardly, because anyone finding us together like this is not what I need right now.

  She quickly pushes back her shock and nods in greeting. “Bella Alvarez.”

  He lifts his chin as he replies, “Kaden Scott. A pleasure to meet a ballerina who makes us proud on the worldwide stages.” Her cheeks heat up while a fury unlike anything settles in me, a red haze covering my eyes at the idea of him touching her.

  Jealousy is not an emotion I’m familiar with, but right now, I’m ready to scratch my friend’s eyes out for running her appreciative gaze over him. But more importantly, I want to sucker punch Lachlan for showing her attention.

  What is going on with me? He can do whatever he wants.

  We share nothing but physical attraction, because if we are not kissing, we are arguing or he’s making fun of me.

  “Valencia.” Bella’s voice snaps me out of my haze and it takes me a second to realize she already called my name. Clearing my throat, I reply, “Yes?”

  “I was telling Kaden here that it was your idea to change the name of the school to attract more parents.”

  I can feel Kaden’s stare on me but purposely ignore it, shrugging. “Good thing Patricia agreed.” Before she can add anything, I go to my bag and address Lachlan without looking at him. “We need to practice for my show, so if you don’t mind leaving us alone.”

  From the corner of my eye, I see Bella mouthing to me, What the hell are you doing? But she nods in agreement anyway, probably not wanting to bust me.

  My back is still to him when his deep voice speaks, leaving prickles of awareness on my skin as my heart still beats rapidly in my chest from the earlier kiss. “Have a nice day, Valencia. We will speak again.” He doesn’t ask but orders, almost warning me. But I don’t react, and he finally leaves, shutting the door loudly as Bella fans herself with a dreamy look on her face.

  “Oh my God, woman, are you shacking up with the Kaden Scott? That explains a lot,” she muses, tapping on her c
hin with her finger as my bag falls to the floor.

  “I’m not shacking up with anyone, and what the hell is that supposed to explain?”

  Bella can be a little insane when something excites her, and with her bouncing in place as she gives me my coffee and sips hers in long swallows, clearly tells me the idea of me and Kaden excites her beyond measure. “Your rebellion stage. Finally, you decided to say fuck everyone else and live your life.”

  Rubbing my forehead as a slight throbbing ache starts to appear, I think of how freaking noticeable my sadness must be that almost everyone feels they have the right to tell me I need to live a little. What happened to compassion? Why do we selfishly need to put only our desires ahead of others? Shouldn’t we worry about everyone else?

  “Okay, okay!” Her voice laces with panic as she waves her hand in front of my face. “Forget I said anything. Are we still on for tonight?” My brows furrow at her question, and then I remember I promised her a night out before she has to go back to Paris tomorrow.

  After yesterday’s argument, we’d met at the school and she hugged me as if nothing happened. That was how it usually was between Bella and me; we might argue but she has my back no matter what. Patricia had sent her to the more advanced class to show off her new skills and inspire them to strive hard for success so they could travel to Europe too. She finished earlier than me and rushed to grab a coffee for both us since I still had things to do.

  “Of course. We just need to stop by our places to get ready.”

  She squeals, giving me a light peck on the cheek. “Yeah, baby! Where are we going?” I open my mouth to reply, but she presses her index finger to my lips, and I roll my eyes as she continues. “Don’t tell me. Let it be a surprise! I just want to know what I should wear. Something sexy or sporty?”

  A smile tugs at my lips as I envision her in sporty attire for the place I’ve decided to take us, and how she’ll kill me if she doesn’t look her best. “Sexy.”

  She bounces in excitement and chats about all the renovations the school is going to get while I pack my stuff and think back on Lachlan and how, with one simple touch, he gave me something I’ve never experienced before… with such intensity.