I don’t go home right away. I can’t face what I know I have to do there, not yet.
Besides, right now, all I want to see is her.
The auditorium is dim, the house lights down as I slip in through a side door and keep to the shadows. The stage glows in gold and lavender, warm light illuminating the dancers as they rehearse with slow, controlled grace.
When I see her, my heart both soars and breaks.
Naomi’s front and center on stage, Odette in her sorrow following her betrayal by the Prince. Her spine arches, her arms tremble, every movement carved from emotion so deep it wouldn’t even need music.
My chest cracks open. She has no idea what I’ve just learned.
But I push that aside and just watch the sheer beauty and talent of her on that stage. The precise movements. The delicate grace.
The seemingly effortless way she turns into this…ethereal being on stage, an utterly captivating, magical creature that dances only for me in this moment.
The music switches, and another figure springs onto the stage with equally elegant, masterful steps.
It’s Vaughn.
He enters from stage left with a dramatic leap, dressed in plain rehearsal blacks, moving with feline ease.
I blink, my brow furrowing.
What the fuck?
I just saw him fifteen minutes ago in Queens. I had to break about a dozen traffic law to get here, and yet he’s up there dancing?
I stare at him, pulse starting to escalate. But when the music shifts again, and Naomi slips back to center stage, I shake it off and just watch her.
I could watch her forever.
After a while, though, I know I have to go.
Time to face my own music.
When I get home I walk straight to the desk in my office, yank open the drawer, and pull out the thumb drive.
I’ve avoided it like poison for weeks. I’ve tried not even to think about it, because the idea of this woman with anyone else drives me into a jealous, vicious rage unlike any I’ve ever known.
Leverage, I called it.
Collateral.
I shoved it in her face and told myself that whatever was on it didn’t matter. That she’d made her choices, and now those choices were a weapon for me to use against her.
I pour myself a heavy drink, slug back half of it, then take a seat at the desk. My hands shake as I plug the drive into the laptop. The folder pops up.
I double-click the file named “Naomi”.
The very first part I’ve already seen, the night I got it from Mario.
Naomi’s lying on a bed in a tutu and tights. Two men climb onto it with her, chuckling. Her eyes open, a faraway, sloppy smile on her face.
My heart drops.
The first time I saw this, I thought she was drunk.
Now I know she was drugged.
“Ready to have a good time, Naomi?” the older of the two men chuckles.
“Yeaaaah….” Naomi sighs, her eyes closing.
They pull her practice tutu down and off. Then her leotard. Then her tights.
”Fuck, man. You want to go first or me?”
“Remember what the boss said. No fucking,” the older guy grunts as they both take their dicks out.
“Such bullshit,” the younger guy sighs sadly.
My fist crashes onto the desk as he starts to stroke her thigh.
“Orders are orders,” the older guy mutters, stroking his pathetic, limp dick. “This one’s a virgin, so no fuckin’ her, okay?”
My heart twists painfully as I stare haggardly at the screen.
Yes, she was a virgin.
And I took that.
Roughly. Callously. Without a shred of tenderness.
What the fuck is wrong with me.
“How about her mouth?”
“Tempting,” the older guy groans. “But we can’t. You can do whatever else you want, though.”
“Fuck, yeah,” the other guy grins. “What a hot body.”
He gropes her tits. The other one jams his hand between her thighs.
I want to douse the world in kerosene and light it on fire.
I want to maim.
Destroy.
Kill.
But I force myself to watch every horrible second. To fight back the vomit that threatens to erupt from my stomach.
By the time I close the laptop, I can’t even see straight.
I used this. Held it over her head. Threatened her with her own fucking trauma.
And all she ever did was survive it, and try to forget it.
I bury my face in my hands, rage and shame snaking around each other until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
What the fuck have I done.
