Bound in Blue (8 page)

“The person at fault was my father. He drank
a lot. Alcoholism is a—”

“Serious problem in Mongolia. Yes, you told
me, that first night.” When they stood, he took her hand, wanting
to comfort her. “I’m sorry you lost your parents.”

She didn’t seem to want comfort. She pocketed
one of the smallest stones and looked up at the sky. It wasn’t very
blue in Ulaanbaatar. It was smoggy and cold.

“Last chance,” he said quietly. “Last chance
to stay.”

She shook her head. “I’ve been leaving for a
long time. There’s nothing for me here.”

They rode the rest of the way in somber
silence, then the bustle and confusion of the airport swallowed
them up. He kept hold of her hand, like a father corralling a
child, until they found the correct gate and boarded. Since they’d
bought Sara’s ticket at the last minute, they couldn’t sit together
on the plane. She sat two rows in front of Jason, on the aisle, so
at least he could watch her. From time to time she turned to look
at him, as if he might disappear.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

Not now, but she might have to leave him at
some point. There was only one Cirque show in Paris. The rest of
them were spread all over the globe. Some were touring shows that
moved from city to city, pulling up roots every six or eight weeks.
He hadn’t warned her about that, hadn’t explained that Paris would
only be her temporary home. If she was placed in Stockholm or
Berlin or Rome he’d have to let her go, or leave his job in Paris
and go with her, doing whatever was available at her new show. If
they didn’t need acrobatics help, he might have to move into
physical therapy, or nutrition. Or costuming.

He shuddered. Costuming? Maybe, if it meant
staying close to her. Even two rows away in an airplane felt too
far.

Fortunately, they’d have time before they had
to make hard decisions. The Exhibition wasn’t until August.
Anything could happen. Maybe things would burn out between them.
Maybe she’d fall for someone else. There were plenty of compelling
Doms at Cirque, not counting the Uber-Master himself, Michel
Lemaitre. Lemaitre would notice Sara right away. He’d sense the
purity of her submissive nature and he’d want her. If he made a
move on her, Jason would have to publicly claim her as his own or
else release her, because Lemaitre wouldn’t accept anything
else.

Damn Lemaitre. He hoped Sara didn’t fall
under his spell. Lemaitre wasn’t a nurturer. He was a gauntlet, a
survival course. Jason didn’t want that for her. He wanted to
challenge and control her, but he wanted to take care of her
too.

She’ll get to decide what type of mastery she
wants. Not you.

It was a bittersweet arrival in Paris,
because he had to give up his guardianship of her. She belonged to
Cirque du Monde now, and even at three in the morning,
representatives were there to greet them and help with Sara’s
paperwork. One of them, motherly Meg, took charge of Sara, clucking
over the dark circles under her eyes. She assured Jason she’d get
Sara settled in the dormitory apartments. It wouldn’t have been
appropriate for Jason to invite himself along, although he wanted
to.

Instead he hugged Sara and pressed his cheek
to hers. “You’ll be fine,” he said in her ear. “As soon as you feel
ready, you can check out the practice facility and meet your new
coach.” Whoever that was. All the coaches were good, but he hoped
she got the best one, one who would appreciate her unique
qualities.

Meg cleared her throat, staring at him, and
Jason released Sara. “My number’s in the Cirque directory,” he
said, trying to sound casual. “If you need anything.”

Jason needed something. He needed to take
Sara to his BDSM-equipped bedroom and lose himself between her
thighs, but that wasn’t happening. Sara deserved to start her
Cirque career on her own merits, not as a Director of Artistic
Development’s fuck toy. They exchanged a brief, secret smile, then
Jason left her in the capable hands of Cirque’s relocation
specialists.

His capable hands would have to wait.

* * * * *

Jason reported to Lemaitre’s office the
following afternoon as requested. Over the past five years, he’d
managed to earn some measure of respect from the man, but one never
really felt comfortable in Lemaitre’s presence.
Le Maître
,
they called him at his clubs. The Master. With his black hair,
carved features, imposing build, and piercing blue eyes, he lived
up to his name.

Lemaitre glanced up from a file on his desk
when Jason knocked. “
Viens
,” he said. “You have returned
from the Asian steppes.”

“Yes, from my first and last trip to
Mongolia. Next time you’re pissed at me, dock my pay instead.”

“I sent you because I trust you, not because
I was angry at you. Although...” He snapped the file shut. “I am
somewhat upset. You only brought me half the act.”

Jason slid into the seat across from
Lemaitre’s desk. “I brought as much of the act as I could.”

“You brought her, or you smuggled her out?”
he asked in his clipped accent. “I hear she arrived with nothing
but the clothes on her back.”

How to explain it? Her desperation and his
impatience to get her out of the country? “It was a rushed
acquisition, yes. But clothes are cheap. Things are cheap.”
Lemaitre’s steady gaze dragged the rest out of him. “I didn’t want
to leave her there.”

His regard sharpened. “Why? What was her
situation? Your note explained nothing. Why didn’t her partner
come?”

“Her partner wasn’t Cirque material. No
artistry, no imagination. Believe me, you got the better half.”

Jason fell silent, unsure of Lemaitre’s mood.
After a tense pause, the man leaned back in his chair and flicked
the edge of the file. “Perhaps you have brought us a treasure,” he
said. “I hear she’s already on the practice floor, anxious to
begin. You are well?”

“I’ll be well if I never have to go back to
Mongolia. How about that?”

“No sense of adventure.” Lemaitre shook his
head and rose to his full height. “Come. Introduce me to this new
trapezist.”

The men left the office complex and headed
out into the larger facility, toward the soaring aerial arts space.
While they walked, Jason talked to Lemaitre about Sara, trying not
to betray his feelings for her. He definitely left out the fact
that he’d slept with her—twice. He also shared his impressions of
the Mongolian circus, from the Soviet-era facilities to the lack of
production values. Lemaitre nodded, as if he knew all of it
already. He made it his business to know everything about
everything, especially in the circus world.

“So, where are you thinking about using her?”
Jason asked. “Which show?”

“Do I have to decide that now?
Brillante
perhaps.”

“Vegas?” Jason choked on the word. He
couldn’t see Sara in Las Vegas. It was too crazy and hectic, and it
would place her so far away. “I didn’t realize
Brillante
needed a new act.”

“We always need new acts. People have
children, family emergencies, injuries, and they must leave for
some period of time. You remember Kelsey Martin?”

“Yes, I remember her.” Jason had trained her
a couple years ago, until a man named Theo Zamora had commandeered
her for an aerial silks piece in the Marseille show,
Cirque de
Minuit
. “Something happened to Kelsey?”

“Nothing major. A shoulder injury that needed
surgery and a few weeks’ rest.”

“So Sara might go to Marseille?”

Lemaitre waved a hand. “That temporary act is
already in place. As I said, I don’t know yet where I’ll send her.
Or why you’re so wrought up about it,” he added with an assessing
lilt to his voice.

Jason looked at the floor, avoiding his gaze.
“I scouted her. Why shouldn’t I be concerned about her future?” He
quickly changed the subject. “Do you have someone in mind for her
new partner? If the old guy doesn’t come?”

“I’m going to get the old guy to come.”

“You won’t be able to.”

Lemaitre shrugged. “I have a way of getting
what I want. In the meantime I’ve found her the perfect coach.
Trapeze expert.” Michel pushed open the door. Jason saw Sara first,
sleek and slender in her Cirque du Monde training uniform. Then he
noticed the dark-haired man hanging by his knees above her,
offering French-inflected directions.

Jason turned to Lemaitre. “Theo?
Seriously?”

“He knows trapeze better than anyone. He’s
done aerial work all his life.”

“He’s a performer. He and Kelsey have an
act.”

“He’ll be a coach for the next couple months,
while Kelsey rests her shoulder. Until the Exhibition, at least.
It’s perfect timing, no?” Lemaitre watched as Sara tucked into a
tight somersault, then caught Theo’s hands on the downswing. “You
see? Timing is everything in trapeze.”

Jason pursed his lips, declining to comment.
He respected Theo, but the aerialist had a complicated past. Back
in the day, before he’d married Kelsey, Theo had been Lemaitre’s
right-hand man at the Citadel in Paris. He’d partied and drank and
slept around a whole fucking lot.

He’s changed
, Jason thought to
himself.
Kelsey’s reformed him. It’ll be okay.
Sara watched
her new coach as he spoke to her upside down, indicating a change
in position. When she did what he wanted, he praised her
effusively, so her face lit up in a smile. Now Jason remembered why
he didn’t like Theo. The ladies always melted for his accent and
his dark, brooding eyes.

Theo noticed them then, and lowered Sara to
the mat before he flipped down off the trapeze. The two of them
walked over, and Theo extended his hand.

“Jason Beck. Long time, no see.”

“Hi, Theo. How’s Kelsey?”

“Ah.” Theo shrugged. “She’s enjoying a little
rest. You know, she needed her arm fixed. It’s still tricky, from
that one time she—”

Fell. Almost fell.
All three men
looked at Sara and decided not to continue that line of
conversation. Jason greeted Sara next, trying not to be
inappropriately familiar. A handshake, a professional nod. The
lights and blue mats made her eyes even prettier. She blinked at
him. This was awkward, so awkward.
I wish I was fucking you
right now, Sara. God help me.

“What did I tell you?” he said to her
instead, waving an arm around the facility. “Better than
Mongolia?”

“It’s amazing.”

He turned to introduce her to his boss.
“Sara, this is Michel Lemaitre, Cirque’s owner and director. I
suppose you might say all of this is his.”

Lemaitre shook his head. “It’s not mine. It
belongs to my performers.
Mademoiselle Sarantsatsral.
” He
said the rush of foreign syllables without a hiccup. “I’m so
pleased you’re here.”

“You can call me Sara,” she said when he took
her hand.

“Sara, then. All is well? You’re getting
along with Theo? We thought you might rest a few days before your
training began in earnest. And we must lure your partner here, no?
We need both of you together, making your magic.”

As Sara and Lemaitre spoke, Theo leaned
toward Jason and raised a brow. “Where did you find this one? Good
raw material.”

Jason scowled, recalling Kelsey when she’d
arrived at Cirque du Monde. Jason knew too well what Theo had done
with
that
raw material.

“Oh, these frowns,” Theo sniped in French.
“You always think the worst of me. I am very much in love with my
wife. I won’t pervert your sweet little muffin.”

“She’s not my sweet little muffin,” Jason
muttered under his breath.

While he and Theo batted at each other,
Lemaitre had drawn Sara away for a more private conference. There
was something in the way he studied her, some heightened interest.
Just as Jason suspected, she’d caught Lemaitre’s eye. Sara stared
at the Cirque boss, blinking, nodding to whatever he was saying.
Probably something along the lines of “
Would you like to be my
sex slave? The position comes with a lot of perks.
”

Theo followed his gaze. “It’s not me you have
to worry about, eh?”

“She’s too young for him.”

Theo burst into laughter. “They’re never too
young for him. As long as they’re legal.”

Jason didn’t find the situation funny. “I
don’t want him messing with her. How did you keep him away from
Kelsey?”

“Kelsey was mine and I let him know it. If
you want to keep him away from Sara, let him know she’s yours.”

“She’s not mine,” Jason said, feeling heat
creep along his hairline.

Theo looked at him sideways. “
Non?
Well. She’s a smart girl. I’m sure she can handle herself with
Lemaitre.” He jerked a chin in their direction. “He likes her. It
assures her career.”

“Her talent assures her career.”

Theo smirked. “As you say.” He thought a
moment. “Now that we’re back in Paris, you’ll have to stop by
Rue des Jours
and see Kelsey. She’s going out of her mind
with nothing to do.”

He said it in such a way that Jason
understood she had plenty to do, all of it involving Theo, sex, and
their Master/slave relationship. Lemaitre’s beckoning finger
rescued Jason from further conversation. Both men joined him at
Sara’s side.

“We were speaking about the act,” said
Lemaitre. “Jason, you’ll supervise with Theo? Help develop the
performance? Handle the Exhibition side of things?”

His boss wasn’t really asking. He was telling
him to do these things. “Of course,” Jason answered. “Maybe Cameron
for her partner? He’s done aerial before.”

“But not trapeze.” Lemaitre thought hard a
moment, then turned to Sara. “For now, you can train with Theo as a
partner. Until I convince your young man to join us here.”

“Do you think you can?” she asked, clasping
her hands. “Baat’s very good. He’s only wary of leaving Mongolia.
He doesn’t speak French, or English, and he’s never traveled. But
if he understood the opportunity here...”