Page 115 of The Failed Audition

He’s practically straddling me. His pelvis in line with my ass. It’s a position I’ve never been in with another guy—especially not one who stares at me with harsh, tireless gray eyes. He gives mean expression likeyou’re here to train, myshka, not collapse in self-pity.Or have sex with him.

And he’s right, of course.

Get up, Thora.I prop my elbows on the mattress this time, but I hesitate, a mental, emotional, physical block. I think my pity party needs one more hour.

Nikolai isn’t having it. “Time’s up.” He pulls my baggy tee off, leaving me in my lacy red bra, part of my Phantom costume. He won’t let me slack off, not for my emotions, not for him. Not for anything.

I think I love him more for it.

Love.

It’s a strong word, but I’m not sure what else to call this. It’s greater than justlike.It’s more powerful than friendship. If I’m not falling in love with him, then I’m missing the definition of the level right below it. Sort-of-love. Almost-love.

Maybe-one-day-love.

“You’re a slug,” he says, unclipping my bra. “A melancholic, defeated slug.”

He’s trying to put a fire under my ass by insulting me, since I’m rarely sluggish or defeated. My lips rise in the pillow. I definitely love him.

And then he yanks down my pants and lacy underwear, exposing my bare bottom. I feel him tense, and I look over my shoulder again. His severely stern gaze is locked on a new reddish bruise along my ass, which has begun to purple.

From when the drunken guy slapped and grabbed me at Phantom last night.

Out of instinct, I try to roll onto my back, to hide the shape of the mark, but his firm hand bears on my shoulders, keeping me in place.

His chest rises and falls in a heavier rhythm. “Someone slapped you,” he deduces, his voice hollow, like the depths of acave. My stomach overturns. I can’t see as well as him, but there must be five dots like fingerprints.

“Hazards of the job,” I say under my breath.

His unflinching, hot eyes burn holes right into me. And then he climbs off the bed, his muscles more flexed. I uneasily lift my pants back to my waist and clip my bra. “Nikolai…?”

He stops short by the bathroom door, his back facing me. “Just…give me a second.” He’s collecting his anger, his volatile emotions that burst and harden his broad shoulders. Since Coco Roma, the costume shopping, we rarely talk about Phantom, almost not at all.

I slide to the edge of the bed, waiting for him to turn around. “It rarely happens.”

“Rarely?” He finally faces me, so much anguish contorting his features. “You think that’ll make me feel better?” His cold voice stings more. “I don’t want it to happenat all, Thora.”

“I get bruises from training,” I defend. “Can you pretend that I just fell?”

He looks at me like I stuck my fist in his chest. “No. I can’t pretend, because you didn’t just fall. A manassaultedyou. I’mnevergoing to be okay with that.”

The weight of Roger’s proposition still hangs over my head. I need this job, and it’s become a whole hell of a lot risker than what it was. “I know you’re angry at me, but—”

“I’m not angry at you. I’mfuriousat every piece of shit that walks into Phantom and believes they have the right to touch you.”

I hang my head, the guilt pummeling me down. This probably wasn’t the reaction he hoped for.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asks lowly, reading me too well.

I twist my small simple pinky ring, avoiding his gaze. “They cancelled my act last night, at Phantom.” I swallow hard. “It was right before my parents showed up.”

“And?” His voice sounds tight, knowing this doesn’t end on a happy note. I wouldn’t be this sullen if it did.

“They said the only way that I can still work there is if I perform my act in private shows.” I pause, but he stays quiet. So I continue on, “I don’t have many details to go on, but they said that I’d make a lot of money. And that I have to give them a decision today.”

He rubs his face with his hands, as though he’s trying to wake up. Then he meets my eyes. “You already said yes.” It’s not a question. And the pain in his voice hurts me more.

“I was going to…”

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