Bound in Blue

by Annabel Joseph

  “So play hard with her at your home. Keep her out of my way.”

  Jason made a disgusted sound. “All this time, I thought you wanted her. Like, sexually.”

  “That’s on you and your filthy, jealous mind.”

  “You sent me to Mongolia, never even telling me she was your daughter. I met her in a fucking sex club.”

  “Again, this is on you.”

  “Waitressing, Michel, because she needed money. I think it’s on you. I think it’s shitty that you didn’t look after Sara, considering you brought her into this world.”

  His lips tightened. “I looked after her as well as I could from half a world away. I fell out of contact with her mother a couple years ago. I didn’t know about the accident. When I saw Sara’s name with the outfit in Ulaanbaatar, I contacted you about going to Mongolia the same day. I thought it would be wonderful to have her close.” His eyes were twin pools of pain. “It has been wonderful. But now...I suppose...”

  “What?”

  “I’m begging you...please…don’t tell her I’m her father. If you tell her, it will ruin everything.”

  “Everything? By everything, you mean this cold and vaguely censorious relationship you have with her?”

  “I have to be cold and vaguely censorious. I’m her boss.”

  “You’re her father, you raging asshole.”

  “I’m not her father. I don’t deserve to be, and she doesn’t deserve the infamy of being my daughter. What about my reputation, my history? All those clubs set up in my name?”

  “That’s your excuse? That you own sex clubs? What’s more important to you?”

  Lemaitre let out a long breath and dropped his face into his hands. He rubbed his forehead and looked back at Jason. “If you love her, if you care for my daughter, don’t tell her. I don’t want you to tell her.”

  Jason burst up off the couch. “Fuck that. You should be the one to tell her. If you won’t do it, I will.”

  Lemaitre stood too, meeting him nose to nose. He grabbed a handful of Jason’s shirt and lowered his voice to a ragged growl. “Think about it, won’t you? Think! I can be an excellent mentor for her. A protector, a friend. But I would be a miserable father. What would she prefer?” The man’s grip loosened. He spread his fingers on Jason’s chest, his lips turning down in a shadowed frown. “If you tell her, the only job you’ll be able to find is with Circus Mongolia. I promise. Don’t cross me in this.”

  Jason stared at his boss. Dark-haired, intense and powerful, exuding sexuality even in the most conservative situations. Perhaps he was right. He was, at his essence, the terrifying Le Maître, and an unsuitable father for anyone. Particularly the woman Jason hoped would eventually become his wife.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered. “Get your hands off me.”

  Lemaitre complied with an icy mien, as if none of this was his fault. He drew himself up to his full height, brushing at an imaginary piece of fuzz on his shirt.

  “This has been a rousing conversation, but I have other appointments. Do we have anything else to discuss?”

  “How long will you keep it from her?” Jason asked. “Forever?”

  “If I wish to.” He made a careless gesture. “Things may change.”

  “It’s all about what you wish, isn’t it? In everything.”

  “I’ve never made a secret of that, have I?” He gave Jason a ghost of a smile that reminded him, heartbreakingly, of Sara’s smile. It took Jason a moment to recover.

  “Just tell me you’re feeling something right now,” he said, studying the smooth lines of Michel Lemaitre’s face. “Tell me you’re struggling with some measure of guilt, or shame, or self-reproach over this.”

  Lemaitre gave a soft laugh. “Some measure? You may believe I’m feeling many measures of all those things. Mostly a depth of regret I hope you’ll never experience.”

  Lemaitre allowed Jason to see a flash of his pain, just an iota, then he hid it, masked it with a true performer’s skill. We all have skeletons in our past. Hadn’t he and Theo discussed that less than twelve hours ago?

  “I won’t tell Sara,” Jason conceded grudgingly, stalking toward the door. “For her sake, not yours.”

  Chapter Eleven: Bound

  Sara worried things would be awkward with Theo when they got back to work on Monday, but nothing changed. He was as hard on her as ever, and she was thankful for it. If not for Theo, her and Baat’s act would have fallen apart by now.

  As the weeks flew by, as the Exhibition loomed, they practiced with greater and greater intensity, and it was Theo who forced Baat to do the work and get things right when he slacked off and spouted attitude. Theo also stayed after practice a few days a week to teach Sara solo moves for fun, tricks and flips he knew from his past career in trapeze. She got really good at them, and tried without success to convince Baat to incorporate them into their routine. He wasn’t interested. She could tell he was still drinking every night, although he claimed he wasn’t.

  As long as he was sober in practices, she didn’t care, but his muscle tone wasn’t what it had been in Mongolia. At the end of their second month, Mr. Lemaitre assigned him an extra physical therapist, which irritated Baat even more. She carried the guilt of his alcoholic spiral around with her, a dirty little secret she couldn’t share with anyone, not Theo, not Jason, not Kelsey. Not Mr. Lemaitre. She didn’t want Baat to get fired because then she’d lose her job too. What then?

  Mr. Lemaitre held no love for either of them, that was clear. He never explained why she wasn’t welcome at his club. Jason said it was because she was too young, but she knew plenty of Cirque employees her age who hung out there. Well, whatever. She felt safe and welcomed in Jason’s home, and in his bedroom. Through their private scenes and heartfelt conversations, she came to know him not just as her Master, but as an honorable man she loved.

  All too soon, hot July turned into an even hotter August, and their act neared completion. Theo raised her and Baat’s practice trapeze, two stories, three stories, four stories off the ground in preparation for the real thing. Then it was five stories up, and the Exhibition was only a week away. They received their costumes, a dazzling emerald leotard and feathered headpiece for her, and matching knee pants for Baat. Jason was with her at the fitting, his expression filled with the same gravity she felt.

  Costumes, the Exhibition, an ever-rising trapeze. It all meant one thing, that she’d be leaving Paris—and Jason—very soon. Theo said Jason would follow her, but what if he didn’t? He took his duties at Cirque very seriously. Even if he did come, what if he missed Paris and wanted to come back?

  The more unsettled she felt, the more manic and gleeful Baat became. He couldn’t wait to leave Paris. He’d already invited his friends from Mongolia to visit him in Vegas when their act was added to Brillante. Never mind that it wasn’t a sure thing, never mind that they still had to impress the bigwigs with their performance in the Exhibition. Baat was as cocky and self-assured as ever. He believed he had a free ticket to Las Vegas and nothing would stop him from making plans.

  The Thursday before the Exhibition he met her outside the locker rooms, happy, smiling despite the fact she’d lost her temper with him several times during practice.

  “Hey, guess what?”

  Sara looked at him sideways. “What?”

  “Chuluun sent me two bottles of har to congratulate us on Cirque Brillante. You can have some if you like.”

  Har made her think of Jason and the BDSM Fun Club, and all the things that were wrong with Ulaanbaatar. “No thanks,” she answered curtly. “First of all, we don’t have the job yet, and second, I prefer to keep all my brain cells.”

  “Fine, more for me. I’m tired of this stuff the French call alcohol. I have to drink so much more here to get drunk.”

  Oh Baat, how can I fix you? She hid her grief in irritation, turning away with a frown. “Why do you need to get drunk? Why can’t you just drink enough to enjoy the buzz, like a normal person?”


  “Because I’m in Paris and I don’t want to be. And because my partner nags me and annoys me.”

  “Your partner cares about you. Your partner wants you to be able to perform for ten, fifteen more years. Your partner thinks you have serious problems.”

  He snorted, waving her concerns away. “Hey, you want to come over for dinner after the Exhibition? No drinking, I promise. Not until later, anyway.”

  “You think Chuluun would want you to share the har with me?”

  “Why not?”

  “I thought everyone hated me for ruining the circus. I thought all the children starved.”

  He made a face at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “You told me the circus was going out of business. You made me feel horrible.” At his blank look, she blew out a breath. “Look, I’ll probably go out with Jason afterward, and Theo and Kelsey. They have to go back to Marseille in a few days.”

  Baat’s erratic temper surged. “You’ve turned into such a bitch. Such a haughty, nasty bitch. You’re too good to hang out with your old friend Baat, yes? I get it. Fine, celebrate our act with your Amerik and his asshole friends.”

  She looked around, glad no one else understood Mongolian. “They’re not assholes,” Sara said, signaling for him to lower his voice. “And Theo’s your coach.”

  “Do I fucking care? He won’t be my coach much longer. When we get to Vegas, you and I will be able to breathe again. We can train without Theo and Lemaitre hovering over us, and we can finally correct all the shit they did to ruin our act.”

  “Everything they did improved our act.”

  “You would think so. Are you in love with them too? Why don’t you take all three of them to your bed? You seem to have developed a taste for Western cock.”

  She tried not to react, tried to not give him the satisfaction as they left the Cirque lobby and stepped into the blinding sunlight outside. He couldn’t know that she and Jason occasionally played around with the Zamoras. Could he? It was their secret. She didn’t think Baat even knew about the Citadel. He was too isolated from everyone else, due to language and cultural barriers. Yes, because of you. Because you ran away and dragged him here.

  “Maybe we can share one drink,” she said, softening. “Right after the Exhibition, before I head out with Jason. They’ll probably have things to discuss with Mr. Lemaitre anyway.”

  “Eh. If you don’t want to hang out with me, then don’t.”

  Baat turned away in a huff, heading for his dorm, shoulders hunched against the draining summer heat. He looked so lonely. He probably was lonely, which was why he drank. She knew all of this, but she didn’t know how to fix it without losing all the things she’d worked for.

  You’re selfish, a voice inside her whispered. It was a terrible thing in her culture, to be selfish and self-serving. All you care about is yourself. What you want. What you need. No wonder Baat acted so hateful toward her.

  But things would get better. They had to. If it took Cirque Brillante in Las Vegas to get Baat back on his feet again, Sara would gladly go. Once they were there, she’d make him seek help, get him healthy again. She hoped against hope that all of this would be worth it in the end.

  * * * * *

  The night before the Exhibition, Jason took her out for a celebratory dinner at a posh restaurant near the Eiffel Tower. Sara dressed up in a black brocade dress, with a garter belt and back-seamed stockings, and black stiletto shoes Jason loved. “No power exchange tonight,” he said when he picked her up. “I just want to take you out and be proud of you. Have a special dinner with the girl I love.”

  No power exchange? It was impossible for them to be together without power exchange. Even his request for no power exchange was a power exchange, because she had to submit to it against her will. But she did, because he wanted it. She made polite, appropriate conversation, laughed and made jokes, and stared at him from under her lashes. He looked so beautiful in his stylish suit and tie. She didn’t want to lose him, but she didn’t know if she could hold onto him when their lives started to change. His fingers… Oh, his fingers as he traced the stem of his glass. The restaurant was all crystal and white, so elegant. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong here, that she wasn’t good enough for this sparkling elegance.

  That she wasn’t good enough for him.

  Near the end of the meal, he leaned close and caught her gaze. “What’s the matter, Sara? Are you worried about tomorrow? You shouldn’t be. Theo tells me your act is super tight. I’ve seen you do the whole thing in practice. It’s amazing.”

  She tugged at the napkin in her lap. “I’m not worried about tomorrow. It’s more the uncertainty that comes after, going to a new place and a new show. I wish we could stay here together in Paris.” At his frown, she added quickly, “I know why I can’t.”

  He put down his fork in a very controlled movement and took a sip of wine. “I hoped we could speak about that. About what’s next for us.”

  He had that look, that exacting look he got when he’d made a decision and was about to tell her what was what. She clasped her hands in her lap and swallowed past the paralysis in her throat. He looked so serious and resolute that Sara wondered if his next words might be “we’re through.” Maybe that was why he’d asked her here, why he’d told her no power exchange.

  Calm down, Sara. He’s not breaking up with you. They belonged together, even if it was long distance, even if things were difficult for a while. Jason reached for her hand and rubbed his thumb across the back.

  “As you know, I’ve been reluctant to make any plans for our future,” he began. “Or more specifically, to tie you down with any hard and fast plans. We’ve only had three months, Sara. It’s not enough time to ask you to make big decisions, or for me to make big decisions.”

  “But it’s been a good three months,” she pointed out. “I feel closer to you than I’ve ever felt to anyone in my life.”

  “I do too, baby. And this is circus life. It’s about dealing with change, evolving, adapting. You’re just beginning your journey and a lot’s going to happen in the years to come. It’s all good, it’s all normal. And in my heart, I’ve made a decision.”

  “What decision?” she asked, her heart thudding double speed.

  “That I want to be with you, wherever you go. I want to come with you and support you however I can.”

  She let out a breath, clutching her chest. “Oh, Jason. I thought...I thought you might break up with me.”

  He smiled at her, reaching in his pocket. “If I was going to break up with you, I wouldn’t have brought this.”

  He took out a little box and slid it open. The first thing Sara saw was the stone, a striking pale blue jewel nestled in black velvet. It was set into a ring, elegant in its simplicity, just an aquamarine oval supported by four gold tines. Sara was so taken by its beauty she forgot to breathe, and ended up sucking in a big gust of air.

  “Ohhh.” That was all she could say for a moment.

  “The blue’s for your eyes. I hope that’s okay. I know you don’t like your eye color, but I think they’re ungodly beautiful, and I can’t look at this color anymore without thinking of you.” He paused, turning the ring over in his hand. “I adore you, Sara, and I don’t want to let you go. If that’s okay with you.”

  “If it’s...if it’s okay with me?”

  “I don’t want to put pressure on you, because you have a lot of other pressures right now. This isn’t an engagement ring. This is a promise, something to bind us together. A symbol to remind us we’re working toward something. Marriage, hopefully, but you’re young and your life is changing. I think it’s too soon for you to decide.”

  “But I know—”

  He held up a finger, silencing her. “I know you think you know. But look, I’m a stickler. You know that about me. When you commit to me, that’s going to be it. So let’s take a few more weeks. Even a few more months, because we have all the time in the world. I want you to
be sure.”

  She gazed down at the glittering ring between his fingers. Her tears made the blue jewel sparkle, transformed the hues into something complex and even more brilliant. She blinked the tears away and looked back at him. “I didn’t have a life before you. So even if it twists and turns, I want you to be part of it.”

  His expression was so gentle, so kind. He took her left hand and slid the ring onto her finger. “There. Every time you look at your hand now, you’ll see that I’m part of it. Well, except when you’re doing trapeze. I hear rings are a no-no when you’re grabbing someone’s fingers fifty feet up.”

  Sara laughed and moaned a little, and gawked at Jason’s ring. She’d been so worried about their future, but this was actual, material proof that Jason wasn’t planning to drift away.

  “What about your job?” she asked, touching the stone.

  “Don’t you get in trouble every time you worry about my job?” He squeezed her hand. “Lemaitre and I will work something out. There’s bound to be some opening wherever you go. Or I could travel, do more scouting. As long as it’s not Mongolia,” he teased.

  “Oh, Jason.” She whispered his name, imprinting this moment in her memory. “You’re so wonderful. Thank you.” She had a million more things to say but words wouldn’t come, only a swirl of emotions. Impulsively she stood and threw herself on her knees beside his chair, staring up into the beloved lines of her Master’s face.

  “Sara, honey.” He looked around, drawing her up again. “This is a classy restaurant. I love you, but you can’t do that here.” He settled her on his lap for a quick, tender kiss and then nudged her back over to her seat. “Later,” he promised. “When I get you home.”

  After that, though, neither one of them could concentrate on the atmosphere or the food. Jason paid the bill and Sara floated out of the restaurant on his arm. She wanted to flash the ring at everyone they passed on the way to the door. Look, look! Look what my Master gave me.