Chords That Bind

My Dear Readers,

Thank you first for your encouragement, and mostly for your patience. It took much longer than I planned to get this chapter out. I hope that the long wait hasn't made this chapter a letdown. I'd like to remind readers that this author does not condone, nor encourage anything done to another human being without their consent. I hope that your spirit of suspended disbelief is alive and well. I'm excited to share this next phase of Cecilia and James' story. Until next installment,

~Poeticlicense91

As Cecilia gathered her wits, a different worry niggled her mind. Was James so mad at her that he wouldn't help her anymore? What was she going to do? She didn't have anywhere to go. Her heart was in her throat; she contemplated what she would do if James threw her out of his house.

***

James couldn't be alone with her in the house. That much was clear. He couldn't trust himself, and yet he had asked Cecilia to trust

him

? He was a predator of the worst sort, and Cecilia didn't know what was good for her. James' punishment was fitting for his crime. As much as it tormented him to keep a distance from her, he knew it was the best thing for her welfare. He was always told that doing the right thing hurt. Now he was certain that it was true.

He picked up his mobile and called his friend Mae Kwon.

***

Clara returned early from class, and found Cecilia setting out plates for dinner with pasta ready to be dropped into boiling water. Cecilia seemed relieved to see her. Cecilia, rather than evading Clara's usual questions about her day, launched into questions about how the upcoming show was going.

Abraham arrived as Clara finished recounting her day, and Cecilia made sure to divert attention from herself. James didn't come down for dinner at all. After cleaning the kitchen up, Cecilia climbed the stairs to her room. She was preoccupied and worried, wondering what James' absence could mean. That was when she walked straight into his chest.

"Easy. Alright there?" James caught her shoulders to steady her. Cecilia flushed with embarrassment and looked at her feet. "Sorry. I'll get out of your way." She stepped aside.

"Actually, I was looking for you. Can I talk to you?"

Cecilia wanted nothing more than to hide. How could this get any worse?

"Come upstairs with me?"

That

was how.

"Why?" She asked, guarded.

James sighed. Everything he did made things worse for Cecilia, no matter what he tried to do. "I just wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have yelled at you." James turned to lead them up the stairs.

"No. I should apologize. I shouldn't have come up there while you were practising. I'm sorry."

"Cecilia..." He turned back to her. Apparently, the discussion was going to be had on the dark stairwell.

"No." She cut him off. "I'm sorry if I... embarrassed you, it was wrong of me. I'll stay away from you, and when I get back to Philly, you won't hear from me again."

It was James' turn to flinch. Everything she said was exactly what he didn't want to hear. But it was the proper thing to do. "I'm still trying to get you home. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it." Thank goodness for the dimness on the stairs. James knew he had a fierce expression on his face, and was thankful Cecilia couldn't see it.

"Thank you for helping me." Cecilia said humbly. She knew now that he wanted her gone. Her heart was breaking.

"You don't need to thank me. I know I keep saying it, but I'm sorry."

Cecilia used all her willpower to keep from crying again. "I understand. It's fine." She took a deep steadying breath. "Did you need anything else?"

James was taken aback by the sharpness of the question. "No. I just wanted to make sure you were okay..."

Cecilia's voice was stiffening with the effort to remain calm. "Well, I'm fine, so I'll just

get out

of your way, shall I?"

James heard the bitterness as Cecilia threw his own words back at him. It hurt him that he had hurt her, but now he was free to keep her safe and concentrate on everything getting closer to normal. He took the punishment, knowing he deserved it, and hoped that some day Cecilia might forgive him.

***

After that dreadful day Cecilia tried her best to avoid being on her own with James. It didn't take much effort, because James was doing the same thing. To that effect, he invited his friend and partner, Mae Kwon to rehearse in his studio for their upcoming performances. She was a wonderful partner, and James enjoyed the way she felt the music. Mae was a lovely pianist. Her Asian features were striking, and her technique was the perfect match to James'. Hers were the extra two hands needed to play Schubert's Fantasie in F minor.

***

Clara's rehearsals were closed to the public for the last few weeks leading up to opening night. The chorographers and directors wanted no distractions. That left Cecilia with lots of free time. She had been doing more of the cooking. It kept her occupied and was a nice way to help out Clara. But now that the chicken was braising, Cecilia was bored. She tried to read a book, to pass the time until Abe and Clara came home. Dinner with them was Cecilia's favorite part of the day, and usually after, they would share some good British television with her or watch a movie.

Even though she knew he felt nothing for her, Cecilia was still drawn to James' playing. Like a moth to the flame, she would follow her ears and listen as he played expertly the pieces that had branded her where no one could see. He came down for meals less and less, but both Abe and Clara found nothing strange about his behavior. James had only a month until his tour started, and his hyper-focused practising was par for the course. Sometimes Clara asked Cecilia to bring a plate of food or pot of tea up to James, but Cecilia always insisted Clara should go, that she wouldn't want to break James' concentration, making up any excuse not to be alone in that room with him again.

***

A week or so passed. Cecilia had read this book already, and while it was good, she already knew the ending. From the den she heard James come down and open the door. She peeked as watched as James ushered in a pretty Asian woman.

Cecilia was relieved that James was still trying to get her home, and that he hadn't told Abraham or Clara what had passed between them. But Cecilia was curious about the woman and what they were doing. Was the woman James' girlfriend? Was she

submissive

? Cecilia couldn't stay still, so she crept upstairs, to see what she could see.

It was more about what she could hear though, as she neared the top floor, Cecilia heard the strains of a piece of music she had forgotten about. She hadn't heard it since she woke up in James' house. It was piano, but the amount of sound coming out of it was not possible.

She tiptoed further up. It was fantastic and sounded like something Clara should dance to. The music was hiding a secret or story, and the melody swirled around Cecilia like a caress. It was the last piece of music Master taught her. It was the piece of her surrender and James was sitting next to the elegant woman, who was also playing the piano.

It finally made sense. One piano, two players, more sound than Cecilia thought she could take. James and the woman were playing in sync with each other, nodding their heads and tapping their feet, measuring out the music with their bodies as well as their fingers. It was deeply intimate, and Cecilia's heart was in her throat, hearing the music and watching James become less guarded. There was something between him and the woman on the bench next to him.

Cecilia had gone to countless rehearsals at the Royal Ballet with Clara. She had seen a synergy pass between some of the danseurs and their partnered ballerinas. It was beautiful to watch, but Cecilia felt as if she were invading their privacy. She'd asked Clara how the dancers maintained professionalism when they were so... physical... with each other. Clara responded that it wasn't uncommon for partners on that level to have relationships, and some were even married to their partners. That conversation was fresh in Cecilia's mind as she watched James practice with the woman. She detected the same energy.

Even as jealousy reared it's ugly head, Cecilia knew she was wet. Arousal was part of the torture she had to endure until she could return home. First, it had been just certain pieces of music, then it was her infatuation with James, and now anything he played turned her on. He turned her on. She still fantasized about him, humiliated that she was so weak.

Cecilia shook, her body's demands too much. She was overwhelmed because her heart was making demands too, and she could do nothing to stymy the ache and hunger. As beautiful as the music was, Cecilia tore herself away. If she didn't, she didn't know what she would do, and she'd been stupid enough as it was.

Locked in her room Cecilia closed her eyes, remembering the things Master had done to her while he played a recording of the music. He'd trained her to be a slave. It didn't matter that she resisted; she succumbed. She hadn't known it fully until today. She

was

a slave: she was held captive by the music, by her desires, and no matter what anyone said, she was never going to be free of that.

Lying on her bed she heard the music and sound of her submission play in her head. She wasn't going to be able to concentrate on anything until she quieted her burning sex.

She fantasized that James wanted her, had tied her up so that she couldn't escape, so that no one else could touch her again. He played the piano watching her body's reaction as he played the chords that resonated inside her chest. She was naked and unable to fight, held in her kneeling position by rope. James caressed her bare breasts. He palmed her pussy, wordlessly claiming her, teasing her for a moment before he returned to the piano and continued his practice and her torment. He did this over and over until Cecilia was begging him, interrupting the beautiful music, to let her go. "You know I can't do that." Cecilia shuddered. His power over her was tangible and flooded her senses. His voice was just as gorgeous as the rest of him, just as passionate as his playing. She wailed and begged him more. He shook his head, mocking her wordlessly. She bowed her head, helpless to convince James to free her. He played once more, and Cecilia closed her eyes, focusing on his talent and precision. Finally he finished the piece uninterrupted. Cecilia begged him one last time. "Alright." Instead of untying the ropes though, his fingers moved to her naked pussy and toyed with her. She was so close, so close... "I'll free you. Come for me."

Cecilia did, and it went on and on. It was the most satisfying orgasm she'd ever had on her own.

When she felt herself come back down, she cried. That was the closest she could come to what her heart desired, and she hated herself for all of it.

***

After dedicated practicing with Mae, James began running through the Rachmaninoff cello Sonata with Natasha. Her legs went on for days, and she had symmetry in her face that Michelangelo carved into marble. Natasha had missed her calling as a supermodel. It wasn't that she wasn't a brilliant cellist; it was just that she was as haughty and difficult to work with as a model, and as gorgeous as well. She was a rigid perfectionist and wasn't open to variations or different interpretations of classical pieces at all. She had immense dedication, but her attitude often got in the way of her artistry. She always performed best with James, who seemed to be one of the only musicians on the planet capable of handling her ego.

Perhaps it was because Natasha was in love with him. At least, that was what Cecilia thought as she spied on the Russian playing the most beautiful music she had ever heard with James. Neither of them needed sheet music, and instead they constantly glanced at each other, moving from measure to measure, movement to movement with bows of heads, dramatic retards, and intent, driven, syncopation.

Cecilia hated the woman. She couldn't stay to listen to the whole piece. To her eyes, the icy blonde Russian was throwing herself at James. And James was responding to her better than he had to Cecilia. Cecilia wasn't talented enough, or smart enough, and she certainly wasn't beautiful enough: that was the message she got as she watched James interact musically with Mae and Natasha.

***

Opening night for

Alice in Wonderland

sent an excited air throughout the house. James, Abraham, and Cecilia were excited to go to the Royal Opera House to support Clara. Cecilia had been nervous, missing Clara as she endlessly rehearsed, and worried about being in close proximity to James. Hopefully she wouldn't have to sit next to him.

Clara had helped her pick out a dress to wear over a month ago. The event was black tie, and Clara had been her usual, bubbly, helpful self, dragging Cecilia with her to Harrods's making a day of getting tea, and selecting a gown. Cecilia had had fun that day with Clara, and was happy with her gown then, but now she felt ridiculous. Walking down the steps to join Abraham and James, she thought the royal blue silk was too clingy, the neckline too daring, and the weather too cold for such a dress.

Watching Cecilia hold the railing and come down the stairs, James held his breath. She was always attractive, but the pains she had taken to blow her hair out and line her hazel eyes with kohl made her look ethereal. The off-the-shoulder cut of the gown bared her shoulders, and exaggerated the lines of her bare neck and collarbone. What he wouldn't give to be able to collar her, and add the finishing touch to the look. James shook himself. He couldn't think like that, but he didn't look away, watching the way the deep blue silk wrapped around her torso like a glove, ending in a whimsical handkerchief hemline that was so ladylike, yet so tantalizing, allowing him momentary glances of her shapely legs.

Cecilia was looking at the floor again, James noticed, and then heard Abe complimenting her. James didn't trust himself to say anything, all the words he might have said growing thick on his tongue.

"Well, we don't want to be late." James said briskly.

It was a distracting drive in the S4. Abe insisted on squeezing in the back to allow Cecilia to sit in the front. James didn't want to pay attention to the road. Abraham was pointing out the buildings in London to Cecilia, who hadn't yet seen them lit up at night.

Once at the Royal Opera House, Cecilia had enough to look at to stop being self-conscious. The opulent theatre was breathtaking, and Cecilia marveled at the exquisite detailing and extravagant décor. But when she pulled her eyes from the ceiling, she was met with another, very pleasing sight. James had checked his topcoat. He was in a black tux, holding a bouquet of white roses. He managed to look at home and comfortable in his crisp shirt, perfectly tailored vest, and jacket. His shoes were polished to a high sheen, but his thin Knightsbridge tie was already pulled a bit loose, as if there was something about the man that refused to abide by

all

the rules. Cecilia found him devastatingly handsome, and while they waited for an usher to take them to their seats, she caught herself finding new angles from which to appreciate James. The roses, she quickly found out, were for Clara once the performance had ended. He really did know how to be debonair when he so chose.

Abraham watched James watching Cecilia. She did look exceptional, not a scratch or bruise marring her beauty. From the outside Cecilia appeared recovered. The poor girl had made good progress, but he knew that the battle with her inner demons was far from won. He sighed and glanced at his best mate. He knew James well enough to know he was smitten. The poor blighter was far too chivalrous to make a move. It was a shame, because he was beginning to think that Cecilia felt the same thing for James. For tonight though, he pledged to stay out of it, enjoy his wife's performance and have all three of them unwind a bit.

The usher led them to their seats. Clara had used her comp tickets to secure them prime box seating. Abraham made sure Cecilia sat between himself and James, not wanting her to feel left out. Once they settled, Abraham took another glance at the two. Yes, there was something there, but he wasn't going to dwell on it. Dance was Clara's passion, and while Abraham had had little appreciation of ballet before he met his wife, he took great pleasure in seeing the joy that vibrated through Clara's entire being when she danced.

The lights dimmed, and the orchestra sounded their obligatory tuning, preparing for the brief overture.

Alice in Wonderland

was an easy ballet to follow, assuming one was familiar with the Lewis Carol classic. For that reason, the three hadn't felt the need to study the program. However, when a familiar, long-limbed ballerina dressed as Alice took the stage, Cecilia opened her program. A loose sheet of paper fell out immediately. It read:

In tonight's performance of Christopher Wheeldon's Alice in Wonderland, Soloist Clara Finnegan Kendrick will perform the role of Alice.

Cecilia gasped in excitement. "

Clara is Alice!"

she whispered as loud as she dared.

James noticed too, and handed the insert to Abe. The three of them looked at each other with huge grins, and then did a double take back to the stage. Clara was breathtaking. She convincingly mimed her part, but her dancing was unbelievably compelling. The audience was with her the entire time, laughing, gasping, and applauding after particularly difficult pirouettes and leaps.

At intermission, the three just sat breathless and ecstatic. This was huge for Clara's dancing career, and she had surprised them all.

"Did you know about this Cecilia? You've been watching rehearsals." Abraham asked, stunned at the wonderful surprise.

"No. It's news to me, but I wasn't allowed to watch the final rehearsals... Something must've changed." Cecilia was so happy for her new friend. Clara clearly deserved the part, and she was such a darling that no one could begrudge her the good fortune.

"I'll tell you one thing Abe," James finally spoke up, "They couldn't have found a better Alice. Tell me that isn't the most perfect role for Clara, and I wouldn't believe you."

Abraham let out a hearty laugh. "You're right about that! Precocious, mischiefy, curious... That's Clara to a tee."

The second half of the ballet was just as enjoyable as the first, and just as expertly performed. When the time came for curtain call, Clara had the audience on their feet, throwing roses, and shouting "Brava!"

James clapped a beaming Abraham on the back. "That's your wife mate."

"Damn straight that's my wife..." And then Abraham yelled those words, adding to the cheers from the audience. (Some of whom heard, and looked back disapprovingly at the man who

clearly

didn't belong at the Royal Ballet.)

Abraham, James and Cecilia waited somewhat impatiently for Clara to come out of the dressing rooms. When she finally emerged in a striking tea-length emerald dress, complete with a full tulle skirt, Abraham ran to her, lifted her up and spun her around. He wasn't nearly as graceful as the men who had been partnering Clara on stage, but Clara looked more at home in his arms than anywhere else.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Cecilia asked, feeling Clara's infectious energy.

"It was a surprise then?" She asked with a straight face.

They all laughed then, causing everyone to look at the two couples sharing some inside joke. People stared, some admiring, some a tad jealous of the two beauties in blue and green, flanked by two well-groomed and confident men. The

Telegraph

was doing a story about the show, and the photographer waltzed over to take a photo of the evening's star. Then he wanted a photo of Clara with her husband, and then Clara insisted on taking one with James and Cecilia. Cecilia moved to lean in next to Clara, but Clara had other ideas. "Go next to James there. That's it." The photographer agreed. "You all make lovely couples." He said when he had his pictures.