Page 3 of Heart's Temptation
His eyes flew wide at the unexpected movement, and we collided.
“Stop!” Our director’s voice pierced the air from the darkness beyond the stage. A moment later he stormed like a raging bull until he stood directly in front of us.
My partner, Han, glared down his arrogant nose at me. “Really, Nico, the choreography isn't that challenging, is it?”
I tried not to roll my eyes at his rebuke. Honestly, if he didn’t pair so well, I would have begged for a new partner.
“It’s Nicolette, or Niki, not Nico. And look, dumbass!” I pointed at the pile just as our director strutted across the stage and slipped when he stepped where I was pointing, landing on his ass.
“What is the meaning of this?” he hollered. “Clean this up immediately!” Stagehands scurried to do his bidding, while Han and I reached out and pulled Sergei to his feet.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
His demeanor warmed immediately. It was no secret that I was Sergei’s favorite. “Thank you, my dear. I will survive.”
He took in Han who stood with his hands on his hips looking bored. “How did you not see that?” he accused. “If she’d been spun into that muck, she could have broken her ankle.”
“Well, so could I have,” Han answered defensively. “Look, it doesn’t even shine. How did Miss Perfect Pants see it?” He glared at me accusingly.
This time, I did roll my eyes. “When you dipped me, my nose was only an inch away. I saw the lights reflected off it. You’re welcome, by the way.”
Han stormed off the stage, screaming for a towel.
“Oh my god, he’s such a diva,” I couldn’t help commenting.
Sergei laughed. “Diva, he may be, but he’s also the best we have. Let’s call it a day. Go home, Nicolette. Take a hot bath and relax. That’s an order.”
Not wanting to stay a moment longer, I bid my farewell to the dancers and staff, keeping a performance smile plastered in place. This wasn’t the first incident that threatened to disable me or worse. Far from it, in fact, and the need to get outside and far away from the obvious threat drove me to only stop at my dressing room long enough to trade my pointe shoes for a pair of sandals.
Normally I wouldn’t leave the studio in a sweaty leotard—as my practice clothes cooled against my skin, my muscles could cramp and I’d begin to freeze, but I wasn’t thinking about my career so much as staying alive.
My heart pounded hard in my chest as I broke through the doors and out onto the loud streets of upper Manhattan. Flagging a cab, I gave the driver my address and slumped back in the seat, taking a few deep breaths, and trying to calm my racing heart. In the rearview mirror, the driver's eyes flicked to me. He probably thought I was a looney toon, I mused.
Thankfully this wasn’t like the full-on panic attacks I’d been having more frequently as of late. The cause of which I blamed on the unusual incidents that had been frequently occurring.
The recent slew of accidents couldn’t be explained and appeared directed at me specifically. Several weeks ago, I’d gone to my dressing room to change after rehearsal and found a dozen dead black roses on my vanity.
Unfortunately, ballet was very competitive, and like any professional athletes, we were a superstitious lot. The flowers could have easily been meant as a message by anyone trying to make a point, or just wanting to be an asshole. I’d thrown the dead bouquet in the trash and gone on with my night, but the next day there’d been a new batch of dead black flowers, and another every day since. Sergei had spoken with every person on staff and each of the dancers, but no one had seen anyone carrying flowers or going in or out of my dressing room.
The cab slowed down, and I gazed out the window to see the growing traffic. Today, I didn’t mind the deadlock because at least here, in the cab, I had anonymity. I was just another person in an endless maze of cars all trying to get somewhere.
Being stuck allowed me added time to slow down my breath and release the panic, something Gio had taught me a long time ago. Thinking of him inevitably brought up many memories, some painful, but mostly ones that brought a smile to my face.
I’d wanted to call him so many times to ask for his forgiveness and beg him to bring me home. I would have given anything to hear the sexy, demanding tone of his voice, and smell his expensive cologne of leather and bergamot mixed with his natural scent of forest and oak. Instinctually I drew in a deep breath as if I could summon his comforting scent.
Let it go, Nicolette. You ran away and yearning for the past will get you nowhere.
It was true, but it was still hard to accept. At the time, I’d felt my actions were justified. Had they known… I shuddered to think. Let’s say that my choices might appear unforgivable in their eyes, even though what I’d done was to keep them safe.
I’d come to Empire Ballet with the purpose of becoming a principal ballerina for one of the most prestigious companies in the country. Okay so maybe they weren’t in the top three, but fourth was still pretty good. Over a decade later, I’d achieved all I’d dreamed about. Almost all, that was my career goal; my personal goals I’d torched and there was no going back to yesteryear after what I’d done to Gio and Marko.
The price had been huge, and I was sure there would be no welcome for me if I ever returned, at least not from Gio. Me leaving would be considered him losing in his mind, and Giovani Vitale never lost.
Marko—assuming they were still a team—would do his best to keep me at bay to protect Gio’s heart. Or maybe I was just full of myself and neither of them noticed me leaving, and the moment I was out of sight, I was also out of mind, and they never thought of me again.
That’s not true. A whisper penetrated my thoughts. I was losing it and shook my head. Maybe those looks from the driver were justified after all.
Gio’s gorgeous face and Marko’s stoic one crept into my mind and this time, I chose not to chase them away… My body tingled each time I thought of them and now was no different. Both men could play my body like a finely tuned instrument. They’d showed a mastery over me that mature men with decades of experience would envy.