I wanted to.
Wanted to see her face. Ask her name. Hell, even hear her voice and smell her scent.
But I didn’t.
I just sat there, with a raging hard-on, trying to wrap my head around what the hell had just happened.
She caught me off guard.
It takes a lot to surprise me, but she managed to do so.
Perhaps it was her innocence.
She was clearly not a professional dancer, clearly not an expert in the art of seduction. Everything about her in those first minutes was awkward.
I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d panicked and headed for the door. She wouldn’t have been the first to freeze under my gaze, even among more experienced entertainers.
That’s why I wear the mask.
Part protection. Part necessity.
Only a handful of people know I own Ahren, and I intend to keep it that way. My face is already on billboards. My name is stamped on the arena walls. The last thing I need is the press sniffing around, twisting stories about what I do when the lights go out... and what I like when I’m not lacing skates.
But there’s another reason.
When sight is gone, everything else sharpens.
Touch. Smell. Sound. Instinct.
It’s a rush—like tuning into something primal, a sixth sense that takes over. I enjoy testing my limits, allowing desire to grow without relying on physical appearance.
I was, undoubtedly, carnally attracted to that woman.
Not just physically, though there’s no denying that part, but something about her hesitation, about the way shemoved, got under my skin.
“Ana.” That’s the name Vasiliy gave me. He knows better than to share anything else.
I can’t stop thinking about her.
“Nik!”
My sister Misha snaps. She supposedly works out at my home gym, though I’m pretty sure her phone has gotten more use than her muscles.
“What?” I ask, brow furrowed.
“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying.”
“And this is different from any other day, how?” I ask, though my eyes are still fixed on the pull-up bar. “I’m just… processing.”
“Processing? Processing what? You’ve been looking at the bar for five minutes.”
“I’m multi-tasking,” I shrug.
“Multi-tasking? You mean ignoring me while you pretend to be some tortured gym hero?”
“Exactly,” I deadpan.
She rolls her eyes so hard I swear they might get stuck. “Unbelievable. You act like every day isn’t exactly the same. You ignore me, grunt at the weights, and brood over… I don’t even know what.”
