Page 83 of Controlled
“I’m not a perfect anything.”
“Oh, yes, you are, my beautiful woman. Perfect in every way.”
“Don’t keep saying that. I will disappoint you one day.” The words slipped out easily, but it was another moment of confusion. Did I really expect this was going to last? I had to be out of my mind if I did.
“You will never disappoint me, baby.”
Now he was calling me baby. I wasn’t certain how I felt about that except for awkward. I flitted backward, adding a series of pirouettes, followed by a grand battement. I moved around him, touching his shoulders and arms, enticing him while beckoning at the same time.
“Dance with me,” I finally said as he stood stoically, his entire body ready to erupt into flames, his heated look more lust filled than I’d seen before.
“Not this way. I need you to dance for me. Only me. Always for me,” he finally said, ripping off his jacket and not bothering to pay attention to where it landed. He walked toward the piano, his chest rising and falling. It was almost like he was in a trance, only one thing on his mind.
At least at this point.
Requiring me to dance or him, becoming his perfect doll in a way that would allow him to feel the hold he had over me. As he rolled his sleeves past his elbows, I almost felt as if he was connecting strings to my joints, turning me into a dazzling puppet.
When he sat down, lifting the lid of the Steinway, I moved to the stereo, turning off the music. The anticipation of hearing him play was almost as exciting as dancing. I struck a pose while he cracked his knuckles, shocked how nervous I’d become.
As he started to play, his fingers drifting over the bass notes, I sucked in my breath and lifted my head. He was playing the same concerto I’d danced to the night I’d met him, only his version was even darker, full of such angst and sadness that I couldn’t move for a few seconds.
“I chose that music,” I said, thinking I’d whispered the words but he’d heard them.
“I had a feeling you had, perfect dancer. We’ve been connected for a long time, perhaps our entire lives. The music soothes the beast.”
He was almost melancholy when he issued the words.
I’d also never thought he could be so emotional, his body language totally unlike any pianist I’d seen before. I couldn’t understand why he’d never taken his talent to an orchestra, auditioning. Or maybe he’d been a protégé, forced to play for the bastard of a father he had.
He finally lifted his head, his eyes pulling me further into the darkness than ever before. But with a single nod, he gave not only his approval but also his encouragement for me to dance.
And so, I did.
Being able to get lost in the music I’d heard was a gift. Performing was in my blood but it was truly all about enjoying my craft, not just preening for an audience. And in the ten or so minutes as Creed performed like a maestro, I was allowed more freedom with the dance than I’d had before.
As the music hit its peak, shifting into the incredible finale, I caught another glimpse of the powerful man. Beads of sweat were falling down both sides of his face, his expression pained but I knew the man wasn’t suffering. No, he was exalted in the moment, his perfect dancer performing the music that had drawn him to me in the first place.
Why did I have a feeling there was more of a meaning with the gothic piece than he’d yet to tell me? After dropping into the ending position, the song slowly came to a close. And I was the one who was clapping this time.
Creed kept his hands on the keys for a full minute before lifting his head. I don’t know why I’d expected to see a smile on his face. It was exactly the opposite, but I also sensed the music was indeed healing for him, allowing the demons I’d seen several times to be cast out, unwanted.
And more important, unneeded.
“You’re a true maestro,” I said before I realized I had.
He slowly closed the lid, his chest still heaving. I wasn’t certain whether there was tension between us or something else but as I walked closer to the piano, I sensed that for the first time he was uncertain what to say to me.
So, I spoke instead. “My mother used to tell me that she hated me, that she’d wished I’d never been born because the man she loved with all her heart left because she was pregnant. I never told anyone that. I was too embarrassed.”
The way he fisted his hands as he rose to his feet was a clear indication of his extreme fury. He had the ability and means to end my mother’s life if he became that angry. Maybe I was a fool for telling him, but it felt natural expounding on my darkest secrets.
“The truth is I hate her too. I know that’s terrible for a daughter to say about her mother, but I can’t help it. I just…” I exhaled, trying to allow the tension to bleed from my body. It wasn’t working.
He was studying me as if seeing me for the first time. “My father had many enemies over the years, ruthless men who wanted to take what we had. Back then, crime syndicates were brutal in every way. There was no code of ethics. My brothers and I used to think he wasn’t such a horrible man because he was trying to protect us. That wasn’t the truth. He was just a monster, trying his best to hold onto his precious possessions, the money he’d extorted or blackmailed from others.”
I was struck by the lack of emotion in his voice, but the haunted look in his dark eyes made up for it.
“It was like the O.K. Corral back then, the streets filled with blood and violence, the police yet to be completely owned by any of the powerful families. In the early days when the FBI joined in, the heat became unbearable for my father as he continued his quest to get rid of the men and families who stood in his way of becoming king of Chicago. So, he found a perfect way to eliminate those he hated. A hunt on his five hundred acres of property. He thought he was so clever, abducting one enemy after another when they least expected it, pretending he’d give them a chance to live if they finished the course before they were caught. But he was lying as he did about almost everything else. He slaughtered them with primitive weapons, forcing his most trusted men to carve up the bodies, burying them in shallow graves on the property. No fuss. No muss.”