Devoted 2 : Where the Ivy Grows (32 page)

I hold my chin up and stand tall. ‘Yes,’ I say, meeting Marc’s eye. ‘I can do this.’

‘I know you can.’

I suck in a deep breath. The music is building up, and the audience are starting to mutter. I can imagine what they’re saying.

‘Shouldn’t someone be on stage by now?’

‘Has something gone wrong?’

One foot in front of the other. Here I go. Step. Step. I concentrate on my feet. One more step. Then another. And another. Suddenly, I’m there. On stage. On a real life West End stage in front of thousands of people.

I turn to the audience.

There’s complete silence.

The music has passed the point where I should have started singing, and I race through my mind, trying to remember the second and third verses.

Okay. Okay. Here comes verse two. I try for the first line.

They call me beauty, but what is beauty anyway?

I open my mouth, but the words don’t come out. It’s like someone has iced up my vocal chords.

Come on, Sophia. Come on.

I turn and see Marc in the wings. I expect him to be frowning, but he’s not. He’s looking at me like he loves me. And suddenly the ice in my throat melts.

I sing the second line: ‘
Just a word, a silly thing that people say
.’

The line sounds croaky and thin, but I manage it. And from there, I manage the rest of the verse too. As the song goes on, my voice gets clearer and stronger. I put all my heart and soul into it, singing for all I’m worth, and bringing all the emotion I can to the words.

When the song finishes, I’m flushed and elated. I don’t think I’ve won the audience over just yet, but I haven’t lost them either. They haven’t written me off.

I perform the ‘lost in the woods’ scene, and then Leo comes on stage.

The chemistry between us is good. We bounce off each other, and the audience laughs and gasps at the right points. When we sing together, it sounds good too.

By the end of the first act
, I’m in my element, loving performing, loving the reaction of the audience. I can tell I’m connecting with them emotionally, and that makes me happy.

The curtain swishes down to mark the interval, and Leo and I wait for it to reach the ground before leaving the stage.

Before the curtain touches the wooden floor, I swear I see Cecile in the audience, two rows
back. Seeing her unnerves me. She looks ... I don’t know. Angry. But. Maybe I’m wrong. It’s probably someone else. After all, why would she be at my opening night? I know we had a moment together, but we’re far from friends.

I head for Marc.

‘You were astonishing,’ he tells me, putting his arms around me and pulling me to his chest. ‘I didn’t think I could love you more, but seeing you go on stage like that, after everything you’ve been through ...’

I let myself melt into him.

‘You’re due an outfit change,’ he says.

‘Yes.’ I nod into his chest.

‘I’ll take you to your dressing room.’

In the dressing room, a beautiful blue dress covered in glass beads hangs over the mirror. It’s Belle’s dress for the second act, and I love the way it makes me feel – like a heroine from a historic romance.

‘I’ll leave you to dress,’ says Marc. ‘I’ll be right here. By the door.’

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘Come in with me. This dress has so many buttons. I always struggle with them.’

I go to the mirror and scoop up my hair.

Marc comes into the dressing room and closes the door. He stands behind me and begins to unfasten my dress. I watch him in the mirror, and with every twist of his thumb, a little flash of desire grows in my stomach.

As Marc slips the dress down from my shoulders, I turn to him, the dress pooled around my ankles. I’m wearing the fairy tale underwear he bought me when we flew to his private island.

‘We haven't made love since that day with Getty.’ I put my hands around his neck, and my hair drops onto my shoulders.

Marc slips his fingers into my hair, and strokes and twists. ‘Sophia -’

‘I know what I want, Marc. I need to move on. Help me move on.’

‘Here?’

‘Yes, here. I want you, Marc. Don’t you want me?’

Marc laughs. ‘God, if you
knew how much I want you.’ He scoops me up and sits me on the dressing room table, his eyes devouring me. ‘Are you sure you want this? Here? After everything that happened?’

‘I’m sure. I want this more than anything.’

I pull Marc between my legs and feel how hard he is. He’s throbbing against me, and I’m heating up too, my legs tightening against his hips.

‘Wait.’ Marc breathes, one hand falling flat against the mirror. ‘This should be ... slow. I want to take my time with you. To show you how much I love you. I don’t just want to fuck you in the dressing room.’

‘Mr Blackwell.’ I take his hand and slip it inside my panties. ‘Being fucked in the dressing room is
exactly
what I want.’

Marc’s hand stiffens. ‘Oh
God, why did you have to do that?’

‘Show me you love me,’ I whisper, rubbing his hand back and forth. I roll my head back and give a little sigh as his fingers move where I want them.

Marc’s eyes close in that pained way that tells me he’s losing control.

I moan as his fingers work me open, sliding back and forth.

‘Oh Marc,’ I murmur, my head lolling around my shoulders.

‘God. I can’t stop myself.’ Marc pulls my panties aside and frees himself from his trousers.

He moves between my legs, and the most amazing shudder goes through me. I bite my lip as he pushes me open, little by little, working his way inside. And now he’s all the way in, filling me up.

‘Marc,’ I moan.

‘This is what you want?’ he asks.

‘This is what I want.’

Marc begins to move. Slow at first, then faster as he begins to lose it. The dressing table shakes as he thrusts deeper, and my head and back knock the mirror. I hear things roll from the table to the floor, but I don’t care. This feels so, so good.

Marc groans, thrusting deep between my legs with such power and strength that my whole body moves where he moves.

‘I love you,’ I murmur. ‘I love to feel you ... lose yourself.’

‘I’m lost,’ Marc says, his voice thick and deep. ‘Trust me.’ He keeps on thrusting. ‘So, so lost.
In the best possible way.’

I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer, and his thrusts get deeper and deeper until all I can feel is him inside me. The dressing table rocks, my eyes close and pleasure builds up and up until ...

‘Oh God. Oh Marc.’

My body explodes around him, and I cling to his shirt with my fingers, my legs weakening their grip.

Marc’s eyes are forceful and his jaw hard. He pushes forward in one big huge thrust.

‘Sophia,’ he moans, collapsing against me, panting, pulling me close, winding my hair around his hand.

We cling to each other for a moment. Then Marc pulls back and strokes hair from my face, lifting me carefully off the dresser.

‘I love you,’ he says as my feet find the ground. ‘God, I love you.’

I smile at him, feeling flushed. Happy. Exhilarated. I catch a glimpse of myself and see my cheeks are glowing.

‘On with the show, Miss Rose.’

The second act goes perfectly. I deliver my lines smoothly, sing flawlessly and laugh joyously when Beast turns into a handsome prince.

Leo and I finish to a thunderous round of applause, and I even hear a few feet stamping. I’m guessing those feet belong to Jen and my dad.

I leave the stage happy. Elated. Marc is waiting for me in the wings, the tiniest of smiles on his face.

‘They loved you,’ he says.

‘I wasn’t perfect, but we’ve got thirty more shows to do.’

‘No, you were perfect,’ say Marc. ‘I’ve arranged for Jen and your dad to meet us backstage. I’ve been told there’s a get together in Leo’s dressing room, and I thought you’d want to be part of it.’

I smile. ‘Yes. I’d like that. Marc? What’s wrong?’

He looks ... thoughtful.

‘There’s something I want to show you first. Come with me. To your dressing room.’ He leads me down the backstage steps, me giggling like a schoolgirl.

‘Marc? What is it?’

‘You’ll see.’

At my dressing room, I push open the door a little cautiously and peer inside.

‘Oh
Marc
.’

Huge bouquets of ivy and red roses cover the dressing table, sofa and floor. There’s hardly a part of the room that isn’t decorated with gorgeous green leaves and red petals. The bouquets fill the space with colour and fragrance, and I stand there, grinning like an idiot, breathing in the gorgeous smell.

‘This is just beautiful,’ I say.

‘Come inside.’ Marc leads me in among the ivy leaves and soft roses, and clicks the door closed behind us.

‘How did you manage this?’ I smile at him teasingly. ‘You were in the wings the whole time.’

‘Let’s just say I’ve learned the art of delegation via text message.’

I laugh. ‘These bouquets are beautiful. So, so beautiful.’

‘Just like you.’ Marc takes my hands.

‘So.’

‘
So.’

‘I have something to ask you, Miss Rose.’

‘And what is that, Mr Blackwell?’

Marc drops one of my hands and lowers himself onto one knee.

He takes a crushed velvet box from his pocket and holds it up to me. It’s a gorgeous vibrant green colour and decorated with an embossed ivy leaf.

‘Marc?’

Marc opens the box, and inside is a ring. An antique, I think – the gold band is thin and very yellow, and the diamond is a perfect pear shape. It’s gorgeous. Just the sort of thing I like. Unusual, but pretty.

My hands begin to shake.

I look into Marc’s eyes and he looks up into mine.

‘Sophia Rose,’ he says. ‘Will you marry me?’

Want to hear what happens next to Sophia and Marc?

The third and final part
of the Ivy trilogy
, ‘Bound By Ivy’
will be released in
July/August 2013
.

If you’ve already been in touch with me, then I’ll email you the exact date as soon as I know it. If you haven’t emailed me before, get your free secret scene below and you’ll be automatically added to my mailing list. Su xx

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Dear Reader,

  I’m the author of the Ivy Lessons, and want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for purchasing this book. Welcome to the devoted family – there are thousands of us now, and I love each and every one you, and hope you keep on reading.

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