Page 35 of Natasha
He sighed at seeing the pinched look on her face, and she rolled her eyes at his perceptiveness. She had always been able to keep control of her emotions, but here she was, broadcasting them loud and clear for Silas to read.
"There's a fight being talked about that I agreed to that night," Silas began. He paused and took in a tired breath. "It's a fight that I kept finding ways around, but now it looks like I can't push it off any longer."
"Why did you agree to it?"
"To get us out of the warehouse safely."
"You mean me, not us, right?"
"Yes and no." Silas leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "If we'd stayed there any longer, I would have gotten in bigger trouble that I was already in."
"Because of me," she said, a frown tugging at her lips.
"Not because of you." Silas sighed and held his hands out at his sides in a 'what can you do?' gesture. "They've been trying to get me into this fight and knew they could get to me through you. It's my fault for taking you there in the first place. You didn't do anything wrong."
"I don't believe you."
"Don't have to, baby girl. S'the truth." When Natasha looked up, still frowning, Silas winked at her. "It's not a big deal. I think I can get Sam to handle the terms of the fight. The other guy owes me till the end of time. Might be able to get him to get Tori to back off."
"I don't like her," Natasha muttered darkly.
Silas laughed. "She grows on you. Promise."
Natasha made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat and kept pushing the food on her plate around with her fork.
"No playing with dinner. Eat." Silas tapped her plate with the side of his finger. The comment earned him a sharp glance from Natasha, but he was quick to meet it with a steady one of his own. "Listen to Daddy," he said, voice low with a warning. The simple shift in his voice was enough to have Natasha's backside tingling with the memory of her spanking, and she dutifully pulled her plate closer and finished her dinner in silence.
It was when they were washing the dishes that she asked the question she had been turning over in her head during dinner. "Why have you kept trying to get out of the fight?"
"It's against someone I'd rather not fight."
"Why?"
He finished putting the plates away and paused before saying, "Used to be good friends with him."
Natasha hitched a hip against the counter. She studied the way Silas held himself. He was tense, and she could tell he didn't want to have this conversation. Not even a little bit. "Not anymore?"
"No, not anymore," he said with a shake of his head. "For the best, this way." Silas slipped an arm around her, hugging her close to him. When Natasha opened her mouth to press for more details, he cleared his throat. "Let's talk about somethin' else, princess."
Natasha didn't want to let the thread of conversation go, but the tight look in Silas' eyes had her nodding. "Okay. What do you want to talk about?" she asked, leaning into him.
"Well, now that I think about it….how about we do something other than talking?"
Natasha perked up at the husky sound in Silas' voice. "Such as?" Her mind was racing in a thousand directions, most of them to the bedroom in a follow-up performance of her Sunday afternoon with Silas. She held her breath while she waited to see what he would say, but she was caught by surprise when he tipped his head to the side and asked, "Would you dance for me?"
"You want to see me dance?"
"Never seen it, except for that little spin you gave me the first time I talked to you." He gave her an expectant look that had her blushing. "You were breathtaking."
"Okay," she said, taking a step back from him. "But I'll need to change my clothes, and it'd be easier if we walked back to the studio."
"Whatever you want, sweetheart," he murmured, kissing her cheek. Natasha gave him a smile before she bounded upstairs and quickly changed into a leotard and tights. She pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a light hoodie to guard against the chill of the night. They were holding hands and walking back toward the dance studio in record time, her ballet shoes and keys dangled from her other hand.
"I've never danced privately for anyone who wasn't a director or choreographer," Natasha confessed. She unlocked the door and opted to lead him into a smaller dance room toward the back of the school. The last thing she needed was her mother or grandmother catching this little private performance. She knew she'd never hear the end of it if they did, and besides, she wasn't quite ready for the Ochenko women to get their claws into Silas. Though the man could hold his own in a ring, she didn't want to see him going toe-to-toe with her grandmother.
"I'm a very lucky man then," Silas told her without a hint of amusement in his voice. "But, then again, I already knew that just bein' near you, baby girl."
Natasha shrugged out of her sweatpants and hoodie. "Then I'm lucky, too," she said, slipping into her pointe shoes. Leaning forward against the barre, she began a series of dynamic stretches. If she pulled something while trying to show off for Silas, she would never forgive herself. After a few minutes of stretching, Natasha glanced over her shoulder where the big blond had settled onto the floor and felt her blood pump faster at the dark look in his eyes.
