Chapter Four

Aurora

I wake up with his face burned behind my eyes.

Not a man I want, not a man I could ever pretend to, but the one I’m tangled with anyway. The memory of him from last night presses against my chest until I feel like I want to tear down my own heart.

I pull on my leotard. The straps dig into my shoulders. My muscles ache from the frustration coiling inside me like a live wire. I need to burn it out.

Mirrors stretch across the walls of the rehearsal room, reflecting everything I am—and everything I can’t hide. My body moves before my mind catches up.

“Careful with that turn,” the director murmurs.

For the first time since I got here, I ignore him, wanting to do my own thing.

Lucian is already fucking up my principles, and he doesn’t even have me yet.

I tighten my shoulders, push harder, legs trembling as I spin. I engage my core, performing one last turn before stopping.

The director clears his throat and nods toward the door. The other dancers scurry out. I don’t know a single one of them, because true to his promise, Lucian rescheduled my rehearsals—so all the faces are new. As I move to leave, the director stops me with a hand on my elbow.

I clench my jaw. “Yes?”

He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Lucian… he doesn’t like refusal.”

“And?”

I need to know my options—what happens to me if I refuse?

“Refusing him isn’t smart. You risk roles, opportunities, everything you’ve built here.”

I twist the towel in my hands until my fingers go numb. “That’s not fair.”

“Maybe it isn’t,” he says softly, as if speaking slowly might soften the blow. “But you understand how the world works. He doesn’t take no.”

“I understand enough,” I growl. “I also understand he thinks everyone is a piece to move around.”

“You’re smart. You’ll realize soon enough that it’s easier to bend than break.”

I leave before I say anything I might regret.

___

Lucian doesn’t even rise when I walk into his office, as if expecting me.

“To what do I owe this lovely visit?” he chuckles. That bastard.

“You know why I’m here,” I shoot back.

He lets a corner of his mouth twitch. “It’s because you’re smart.”

Every instinct in me tells me to run, and I don’t usually ignore my instincts. But this time, I have no choice.

“I accept,” I say finally. “Not because I want to. Because I have no choice. You’ll ruin me if I don’t.”

He stands slowly, in a way that makes me count my heartbeats. He comes close enough that the space between us is electric. His hand brushes the back of my neck.

“You knew it would end like this,” he whispers in my ear, making me shiver. “I told you. I would have you.”

I try my hardest not to flinch when he hands me the contract. I let the pen scratch the paper. Signed. It’s done. I just signed my soul to the devil.

“Isn’t it embarrassing to pursue someone who clearly doesn’t want you?” I allow myself a moment of resistance—or else I’ll combust.

“I will teach you to want me,” he promises.

My chest heaves. I am furious. I am alive. I am trapped.

His front brushes every inch of my back as he moves to sit in his chair. He plays a tune on his laptop—one I recognize well from all the rehearsals.

“Dance,” he orders me.

How can I say no? I can’t. It’s best that I erase the word no from my dictionary now.

Reluctantly, I step into the music. “Faster,” he murmurs. He’s showing me that he owns me now. For a year, he owns me. And I fucking hate it. My leg extends higher, my back arching.

“Good. Keep that tension,” he says. “Every line, every muscle—that’s mine.”

I dance like I’ve never danced before, because his presence coils around me—hot and dangerous. I hate how alive it makes me.

The dance ends. I face him, breathing hard. Waiting.

He doesn’t move, or talk, or even fucking blink. What’s the rush? He owns me for the foreseeable future.

And I know, somehow, the worst is only just beginning. Because now I belong to the devil—to the beast, to the monster… to the most powerful man in New York City—and he’s going to chew me up and spit me right back out.

May God help me.

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