Desired and Dominated (16 page)

It breaks my heart as I turn and walk away from her, forcing myself not to look back, and that’s when I hear it. It’s barely a whisper through the crowded airport, but it hits me like a freight train.

“I love you too…Master Callaghan.”

I whip my head around to see her striding through the gate, her back to me. “Sofia…” She doesn’t falter. She simply turns her head and locks her gaze with mine, placing her hands behind her back, clasped at the wrist in a submissive position. She nods her head in acknowledgement, before dropping her gaze to the floor and walking out of my line of sight.

“FUCK!” She knows about me. What have I done?

My mind is reeling as I’m left standing, staring at the spot where she stood. My world has just shifted on its axis…completely fucking stopped.

Why do I feel like my life is becoming a series of moments when I find myself walking away from Sofia Mantovani?

I hate that I show weakness around him. I’ve
never
shown that side of myself to anyone before. I shut that part off so many years ago, I didn’t even know I was capable of it. He brings something to the surface, a vulnerability that I have long suppressed. I can’t explain it, or rationalize it, I simply have to survive it.

Nate has made it clear in his words that we can never be together…but his body tells an altogether different story. I’m not usually the predator when it comes to men, I’m the exact opposite. I’m a submissive for God’s sake. I know everything there is to know about Nate Callaghan. Music mogul, best friend to my big brother, man of honor, and a Master Dominant. He is everything that I crave in a partner, and yet I find myself going against everything that I stand for when it comes to him.

I have thrown myself at him, forced him into a position where he can’t ignore me, which I know is not something that he finds attractive, but I can’t help myself. I want him. He makes me feel and act in ways that I have never even contemplated before; that I don’t understand. When I’m around him I don’t
think
, I can only
feel
.

When he told me he loved me at the airport, I snapped. I hadn’t planned on letting him know that I’m aware of his…extra-curricular activities. I had a plan for talking to him about it, for telling him about my own predisposition, and now I’ve really thrown the cat amongst the pigeons. There was a reason he never told me when we were together, and I respected his decision. I wanted to carefully broach the subject with him when the time was right, but I never got the chance. The look on his face when I called him Master, was so pained, so wounded. I wish I could take it back.

Now, I’m in Prague, he’s in Edinburgh, and it’s been three days since I left him in London.

I’ve replayed all of our interactions over and over in my mind, looking for a hint…anything that could help me figure out my next move. I can’t sleep and I can’t concentrate. The only time I can ever really block him out is when I’m on stage. It’s the only time that I can truly let go of everything in my life, in my head. I can escape, I can be free of the shackles that bind me. I can…fly…soar…be anything I want to be. Even rehearsals have been a bust these past few days. My dance partner Luca has been on my back about my lack of focus.

I sprained my ankle today, and with a performance tonight, it’s something I could have done without. They wanted to put my understudy on, but I got the doctor that travels with us to give me an injection and strap it well enough that I can power through. Being a ballet dancer is all about dancing through the pain, and this is no different. I’m just annoyed at myself for letting Nate get to me so badly that it’s affecting the one thing that has grounded me all these years.

When everything happened with Jon, I never thought I would feel again. I shut down completely. Simon was the only person that I could let in. I don’t know if it’s because he found me that day, or because he was already the person I trusted most in the world. Whatever the reason, he was my lifeline. He sat with me night after night, holding me, protecting me, telling me that it was going to get better, and little by little, it did.

I began to channel all of the feelings I couldn’t deal with, focusing them on a single task – to become a prima ballerina. I started dancing when I was 4 years old. It was always inside of me; that desire to dance. But when I truly focused all my energy, it transformed into something different. Something that went far beyond a love of dance, or a yearning to succeed. It became the air in my lungs; the blood pumping through my veins; the very reason for my existence.

It’s a tradition, or maybe a superstition of mine before a performance, to have a long hot bath in my hotel room. I let the steam rise around me, the bubbles surround me, and I let myself drift off into a calm space, where I can mentally run through all of the choreography for the evening ahead.

Tonight, as I lie naked in the burning hot water, my ankle is soothed, but my mind is still unsettled, filled with thoughts of my last encounter with Nate.

He said he loves me.

That
has
to mean something. Surely. But, why did he say it when he doesn’t want to be with me?

I’m going to drive myself crazy if I keep playing these questions on a loop in my head, and so I do the only thing that seems to be a solution to my problem in this moment. I pick up my phone from the side of the bath, shut off the music I have playing, and pull up Nate’s contact details. My finger hovers over the call button for what feels like an eternity before I chicken out and open up the message app. I think better of it at least five times before I finally type a short message.

Me: Why did you say you love me?

The moment I hit send, I regret it, but I don’t have long to ponder my mistake. I’m startled by the sound of my phone beeping with an incoming message within seconds.

Nate: Because I do.

My hearts soars and crashes inside of my chest as I quickly type my reply.

Me: Then why don’t you want to be with me?

Nate: I do want to be with you…

Me: Why do you keep pushing me away?

Nate: It’s better this way.

Me: For who? You?

Nate: For you. Always for you.

I don’t know how to respond to that, and I don’t have to when my phone beeps again.

Nate: How do you know about me?

Me: We have mutual friends.

Nate: My friends would never divulge my private business to anyone outside the lifestyle.

Me: Exactly.

It takes him a few minutes to respond as I wait impatiently, tapping my fingers on the side of the bathtub.

Nate: What are you saying?

Me: You know what I’m saying. You just don’t want to admit it.

Nate: It can’t be true. I would know.

Me: I’ve gone to great lengths to keep this a secret.

Nate: Then why are you telling me? Why now?

Me: Because you said you love me. That you want me.

It’s an agonizing wait for his reply. What can only be minutes, feels like hours.

Nate: Don’t you have a show tonight?

I can’t believe that’s his response.

Me: Yes.

I’m hurt that yet again I’m putting myself out there, and he’s pulling away from me.

Me: Forget I said anything. You’re right. I have a performance to focus on.

How many times am I going to throw myself at Nate Callaghan and have him turn me down, all the while telling me that he wants me? It’s confusing, and I can’t keep feeling like this. My life is regimented and simple. I know where I stand in all things. I need to let this go and move past it. I switch my phone onto silent, place it back on the side of the bath and slowly immerse myself under the water for as long as my lungs will allow. When I emerge, I try my best to leave behind the sadness, and the negativity that I feel. I don’t even glance at my phone as I grab a towel and head for the bedroom.

Two hours, and a lot of makeup and hairspray later, I find myself dressed and ready to do my final warm-ups before the curtain call. Luca is hounding me about my mood, and I know he means well, but I just want him to let me get through tonight and go to bed. My ankle is still hurting and my heart is heavy as the music begins.

There is an electricity backstage in the minutes before a performance begins. A mixture of nerves and excitement, fear and anticipation. It’s what fuels each and every dancer to give their all; to dance every night and every show as if it is the most important of their lives. Tonight, I can’t feel it. For the first time in my career, I feel flat, and Luca can see it; he can sense it.

“Sofia bella. What’s wrong? I’ve never seen you like this at show time. Talk to me.” I rub my hand reassuringly over his bicep.

“I’m fine. Sorry. Just a little tired tonight, and my ankle is a little sore, but nothing I can’t handle. I’ll be fine when the curtain goes up. You know me…” I don’t have the words to end that sentence, so I leave it hanging in the air. No one really knows me. I let them see what I want them to see.

For Luca, he sees a calm, confident dancer, who thrives under pressure. The reality is that I don’t feel pressure when it comes to dancing. It doesn’t matter if I dance for a room of thousands, or no one at all. I dance for me. I would rather not have the attention that comes from being on stage, but it comes with the territory, so I deal with it.

My parents see a daughter that was broken, but has faced adversity head on and pieced herself back together. They think I’ve moved on with my life. They see what they can bear to see. If they really looked, really
saw
me, they would see just how broken I still am. They ignore the signs and cling to the positives. I don’t blame them. Sometimes I almost convince myself that I’m okay.

Simon will always see me as his kid sister, who needs protecting. What I love about him, is that he’s always been that way. He didn’t change the way he treated me because of what happened, it’s just who he is, but I’ve always felt so guilty when it comes to my big brother. He may not have changed the way he is with me, but the way he’s treated women over the years has everything to do with what happened. He kept his distance, not getting emotionally involved, he guarded his heart against the bad, but it also stopped him from letting someone really love him. That was, until he met Jess. She has transformed him; she’s had an impact on
my
relationship with him. I don’t need to carry around the burden I once felt; the guilt of him missing out because of me. The moment I saw them together, I could see it. The look in his eyes, the way his demeanor changed only for her. They’ve had a really rough time in their relationship, but I know that they’ll get through whatever life throws at them. They are perfectly imperfect for each other. So alike and yet so complementary. They just...work. And they give me hope that I can have that someday.