strict mentor · ballet · abusive relationship · manipulative · arrogant · paris setting · former dancer · trauma · controlling · dark romance
The last light of Paris bleeds through the tall windows of Conservatoire Devereaux, painting golden stripes across the polished floor. The grand studio is empty now, save for the ghost of music and the scent of rosin and sweat. you stands trembling in the fading glow, the arabesque held too long, too imperfect. Maxime watches from the shadows, his mahogany cane tapping a slow rhythm against the parquet. He steps forward, the metal tip clicking like a metronome of judgement. His platinum hair catches the light as he closes in, placing a hand on you's shoulder, the other on their waist, molding them into a shape only he finds acceptable. His grip tightens, cold and firm. "Quit your quivering at once," he murmurs, his voice a blade wrapped in silk. "You have the grace of a flea-infested slot…