Page 29 of Devoted (Love and Burlesque #2)
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
KNIGHT
Runaway.
T he past week and a half have been filled with secret glances and heavy petting during times we’re able to sneak away from everyone at the club.
Fingering and tasting Vivian’s pussy during work hours should make me feel guilty, but there isn’t an ounce of regret by the time I finish devouring her.
And she seems to feel the same, with her mischievous eyes and the satisfied smirk she wears every time she takes me into her mouth while hiding underneath my desk.
We even managed to keep the pretense of just being acquaintances at a shared family Thanksgiving hosted by Alek and Ezekiel. It didn’t stop us from making out whenever we found a moment to break free from the festivities, though.
Over these last weeks, I’ve begun to feel uneasy whenever I am away from The Garden of Eden for too long. Somehow, it feels more like home than my actual house, and I know it’s due to more than just Vivian.
I’ve made friends here despite the detached demeanor I try to portray. Letting people become close to me isn’t something that comes easily, but I’m comfortable calling Benny and my showcase partner, Domingo, my friends.
To many people’s confusion, I’ve made the administration office my personal temporary workspace. All to stay near her. Though I still occasionally commandeer her costume room when she is away or our schedules do not align.
If I cannot be gifted with her in person, the least I can have is the ghost of her presence in her office when she is away.
Her strange way of organization makes me smile every time I sit at her desk.
The snacks tucked into a drawer call my name when I’m here.
They aren’t ones that I usually like to eat, but everything is an exception with her.
A knock on the costume room door has me setting down the Snickers bar mid-chew as I reply with a curt, “Come in.”
The door opens, and Domingo slips into the room with a knowing smile on his face. “I thought I’d find you here.”
“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out I use this room when the administration office is occupied.”
“You damn well know there’s no one in there right now.” Dom crosses his arms and gives me a pointed glare.
“Can I help you with something?” I ask, irritation coating my voice.
“Just picking up my corset for the showcase tomorrow, I gotta add in a little hideaway pocket for our act.” The man crosses over to one of the coat racks labeled ‘Talk Turkey to Me’ and begins flipping through the hangers.
Vivian was gracious when we had our fitting, not bringing up or asking about my scars any further, seeming satisfied with the half-answer I gave her in my kitchen nearly two weeks ago.
At least, satisfied for now.
Opening up to her has been liberating, but there are buried secrets I cannot let come to light just yet. I fear she might see me as too broken after they come out.
“Oh, these are gonna look great together,” Dom comments, holding up his corset and mine side by side.
His costume is more traditional looking with an open back and laces crisscrossed at the waist, shining in a brilliant sapphire.
Mine is a custom corset with a high back to hide my scars, but with a deep V-cut chest in a slightly grayer shade of blue.
While Dom will wear his corset with a flowy white shirt underneath, I only get the corset, as Vivian said, “it would be a crime to cover those beefy arms.”
“Are you sure I don’t have time to back out of this?
” I ask as I stand and walk over to take my corset out of Dom’s hand.
Her talent amazes me. She made this beautiful article of clothing for me, and while I joke about not wanting to do the show, there isn’t a way in hell I would miss wearing something Vivian hand-made for me.
“Oh, shut up.” Dom pushes me at the shoulder, always so rough with his ministrations. “Stop acting like it’s the end of the world. I’ve seen how much fun you’ve been having at rehearsal.”
He’s not wrong. I’ve seen more smiles than sneers on my face in the rehearsal room mirror as we’ve progressed with our practices. I’m no professional dancer like the men who are usually on stage, but I think I am good enough to perform for one night.
And then I’m never fucking doing this again.
“That looks like it’s gonna fit you like a fucking glove, man.” Dom whistles, taking in my corset while his fingers trace over some of the custom stitching. Either knowingly or not, she made the pattern match some of the vines in my tattoo.
“Vivian’s artistry is unmatched,” I comment, not thinking much about what I say.
“How long have you been in love with her?” All trace of his typical cockiness is gone when he asks the question.
Love?
“I’m not in love with her.” The words taste like acid in my mouth, corroding my lying tongue. There isn’t a logical way that I could love her already. Not so soon, and not when we had the agreement to keep things casual.
Have I mistaken my deep feelings for her as obsession when it’s actually love? Who the fuck falls in love with someone at first sight? Am I truly such an idiot to have let myself get into such a vulnerable place with someone who can destroy me like people have in the past?
“I have to go.” I shove my corset into Domingo’s arms and cut off his protest with a wave of my hand. Rushing to the desk, I gather up what I can and storm out of the room.
My attempt to run away only leads me back to her.
Today is Vivian’s day off, so there’s a good chance she’s home. Walking down the sidewalk to her apartment, I pull up my hoodie, though I’m sure it’s unnecessary with how shadowed this fucking walkway is.
The main lights in her home are off. Rounding the corner, I note how her upstairs window is unlit while her bedroom downstairs has a faint light peeking through the dark curtains. She might be home.
Checking my watch, I note how late it is and realize she might be sleeping at this hour. Sleeping and completely unaware of who lurks outside her window.
I’m no longer satisfied being her unknown watcher, lurking outside her room. Vivian has told me she knows I’ve stalked her and that she likes it.
My mind still spirals from my interaction with Dom earlier this night, and I need to ground myself in something.
In her.
What better way to prove you’re not in love than by running to her immediately …
An irritating voice echoes in my mind, but I am so rattled beyond reason that the thoughts do not register.
Tensing my hands at my side, I finalize my decision to step up our game. It’s time to do more than just watch.
And I also don’t want to encounter that mean raccoon again.