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CHAPTER 18

VINCENT

W hen Isla gets into the car, she says nothing. She knows she can’t run from me. But what she doesn’t know is that I have decided not to force her to stay.

I’ve never felt like this before—never even thought of allowing someone to defy me in order to save their happiness. I’ve never loved in the way that I love Isla. But before I give her a choice, I want to show her something that I’ve been working on behind the scenes for a while now.

Marco drives us back to the house in silence. He gives us the occasional glance through the rearview mirror because he knows what I’ve been working on building for Isla during the chaos surrounding us. He’s been my middleman with the contractors and the one funneling questions to Madame Durant behind the scenes to ensure that the choices pertaining to the requirements of a dance space are well-informed. With an endless supply of money and resources, it didn’t take long, and perhaps I should have mentioned what I was doing to Isla before I allowed her to run away from me for a little while. But I didn’t want to show her anything half-completed. And I wanted to see what she’d do and if she would really run from me.

Of course, I only let her think she was flying alone and free on the city streets for a few hours. As soon as she left my home, I saw her on the cameras and alerted Marco, who followed her from afar to keep a safe eye on her. But once cameras started snapping pictures of Isla dancing, it was time to intervene.

Now, I give Isla something that I have given no one else in my life before. I will give her a choice —even if it kills me.

She doesn’t say a single word to me during the ride, and not even when we walk back into the house. I’m sure she thinks she’s going to get punished for running away.

“Thank you, Marco,” I say as I dismiss him.

I catch the look of helplessness that Isla gives him, and Marco’s reassuring, returns a quick smile in return. If it were any of the rest of my men smiling at her like that, I might take issue with it. But I know Marco means nothing other than a kind, protective friendship at most, which is why he’s the only one I trusted with the knowledge about my little secret project.

“Wait,” I say as Isla goes to put her pointe shoes away in her room. “Keep those with you and come with me, please.”

“If you’re going to force me to train here, you might as well save your breath,” she sighs sadly. “Eventually, all caged birds stop singing, Vincent.”

“I want to show you something,” I say gently as I hold out my hand to her. “If you’ll let me.”

Isla looks surprised to hear my choice of words. Admittedly, I’m surprised at myself, too. Softness, kindness, and permission are all things that have never been part of my repertoire before. But with her, I’m different.

She takes my hand and comes along to the back of the house with me.

“I’ve never been back here,” she says as I unlock a door that leads to the recent addition.

“I know. That’s because this part of the house is new .”

“New?”

“Yes, I started working on it a while ago, when I first knew .”

“When you first knew what?” she asks with curiosity as we walk down the hallway toward another closed door.

“When I first knew that my life would never be the same without you in it.” As soon as I finish my answer, I open the door and reveal what I have done for her. “I’ve built you this private theatre .”

Isla gasps and lets go of my hand to cover her mouth in surprise. The space is admittedly brilliant and impressive. It rivals the size of her old theatre, complete with backstage wings, a dressing room, and even a small practice studio with mirrored walls and a professional barre affixed to the wall. In front of the semicircle stage is a small row of theatre-style chairs covered in red velvet upholstery. Overhead, there is stage lighting and a spotlight.

She is visibly overwhelmed as she tries to speak. “How did you do all of this? Why did you do this?”

“I did it for you,” I say as I watch her walk around the private theatre and take it all in. “It didn’t take long, and Celeste guided some choices regarding construction and décor. When money is no obstacle, it’s amazing how quickly one can build something in their own backyard. I didn’t include too much audience seating because I still don’t want people knowing where my home is, so consider it more of a private showing type of arrangement.” In truth, I want to be the only one watching her dance.

“But why , Vincent?” she asks again. “Why would you make this all for me?”

“I am in love with you, Isla. And that means that I can’t do anything to hurt you or lessen your happiness in life. I want you to be with me, and I want to give you the world , but I know that none of that will be real if I have to force you to stay. So, I built you this private theatre to make you happy and to show you I don’t want you to feel like you’re my prisoner here. There are no cameras here, no rules inside this place—only a ballet theatre for you .”

I stand there feeling rawer and more exposed than I have ever felt. I’ve been in tough situations before, ones that have toyed with death and the brink of destruction. But I have never borne my heart to anyone in this way, and I have never allowed myself to feel so vulnerable ever since my sister died, until now .

Isla says nothing. Instead, she walks out into the center of the stage and sits down, looking out into the audience area of the theatre before putting on her pointe shoes.

I stand in the stage’s corner, watching as she ties each ribbon carefully and then stands and dances. At first, she stretches slowly, as if trying to coax her body back to doing what it knows and loves best. Then, she moves with every bit as much grace and skill as she did the night that I saw her perform on stage. She dances her same solo, alone and in silence, and the beauty of her movements leaves me gaping at her in awe.

This time, there is no fancy costume, no tight bun at the back of her head. Isla’s thick waves of hair fall around her as she turns, and she’s able to make jeans and a hoodie look as if they are effortless to dance in. She doesn’t need anything other than herself to be the most beautiful and talented thing I have ever seen, and I could stand here and watch her forever.

“Dance with me,” she says softly when she stops to look at me.

“What? No, I can’t dance,” I chuckle uncomfortably.

“Please, just one step.” Isla walks closer toward me and reaches for my hand. She pulls me gently out onto the stage and presses her body against mine. “Like this,” she says as she sets my hand on her hip.

For her, I would do anything , even try to dance. I do my best to move alongside her, awkward and stiff at first. But it’s nearly impossible not to feel her movement flow around me and then within me, and after a few minutes, I can feel myself loosen a bit.

“Imagine what my men would say if they saw me dancing on a stage with you,” I laugh as she continues to guide me one smooth step after another.

“I don’t care what they would say, and neither should you. Most of them are apes anyway,” she teases. “You have never looked so human , Vincent.”

Isla stops moving and stands on her toes to lift her mouth to mine and kiss me.

I linger at her lips until she lowers herself back down on her shoes again. I’ve done everything that I can think of in order for her to want to be here with me, and now I only have one last question to ask her.

“If I give you the world, Isla, will you stay?”

“I danced my whole life to be free,” she says as she sets her palm flat against my chest and holds my eyes with hers. “Now I’m yours…and I don’t even know if I want to leave again.”

It’s all that I need to hear to make her mine again. I wrap my arms behind her back and lower her carefully to the floor of the stage. Slowly, and with deliberate intention, I remove one article of clothing after the other, letting my hands run over her skin as I expose each part of her body. “This is your stage,” I remind her as I kiss the top of her chest and hover over her. “I think it’s time we broke it in, don’t you?”

Isla reaches for the top of my pants, showing with her nonverbal agreement that she wants this, too. I let her take her time removing my clothes, and I let myself enjoy the feeling of her hands on my cock once there’s no barrier between us. But when she goes to reach down and untie the ribbons of her shoes, I grab her wrist to stop her.

“Leave them on,” I say as I lower myself onto her, pressing my palms against the dance floor, letting my cock weigh heavy between her legs.

She lifts her hands back up to grip my shoulders as I push inside her. Her warm, waiting tightness encases my cock from tip to shaft with each inch of my entry. The friction of filling her is so tantalizing that I pause for just a moment to fully enjoy the sensation. When I do, Isla wraps her legs around my waist, and I can feel her shoes dig against my tailbone. There is something almost delightfully taboo against fucking such a fragile creature on the floor that she delicately dances on. But just like the illusion of dance being soft and gentle when it truly requires great strength and force, I push deeper still, driving her body beneath me as I own her here.

Isla leans her face toward mine, wanting my tongue in her mouth, which I gladly oblige. The sensation of having so much of myself inside her causes me to pulsate with a relentless desire. As I work to bring us both closer to climax, beads of sweat form on my brow and drip down onto her bare chest.

“Wait,” Isla whispers, to my surprise. “Vincent, wait.”

Never has she told me to stop, and never have I considered stopping. But the look in her eyes isn’t one of displeasure or discomfort, it’s one of a more a more adventurous nature.

“I want to finish this on top,” she breathes.

I can tell by her voice that this isn’t an attempt at a power play, it’s something else. So, keeping us connected in a smooth movement as I roll her over on top of me, I lay with my back against the dancefloor and wait to see what she’s going to do.

At first, she looks around as if she’s about to perform in front of the theatre’s empty audience. I can feel her muscles clench around my cock as if this excites her—this feeling of being on stage as she rides me. Isla places her palms against my chest to steady herself as she moves. Every motion is pure, unadulterated divinity. I stare up at her, hair falling over her bare breasts, body curving and pressing against me as if she’s gracefully dancing with me inside of her. The act is not only a sensory overload of pleasure, but also beautiful . It’s as if she’s in the spotlight, about to have roses thrown at her feet as she ushers my throbbing cock toward a standing ovation.

As she races closer to orgasm, her body grinds down on mine, taking me all in deeper than I’ve ever been before. I hold on to the sides of her pointe shoes that are pressed down against the sides of my legs as she erupts into a violent orgasm. With her shoes still clasped in my hands, I follow with an orgasm of my own, one that is so strong that I can feel it in the back of my teeth.

Isla’s body collapses onto me, as light as a feather, as I catch her and sweep her matted hair away from her face. We both breathe heavily against each other, and I can feel my cock still pulsing with aftershocks between her legs.

“Now this stage really is mine,” she says through ragged breaths.