by Tonya Plank
“So when did you find out she was in Los Angeles?”
“Not until my uncle and cousin realized the woman they’d gone out and snatched was you, not Tatiana.” He took a lengthy exhale, his jaw beginning to quiver with anger.
Wait. Jeez. I felt like someone was knocking me upside the head, back and forth. I didn’t know whether to be angrier at the Tokyo people or her own family. This organization was definitely very shady. Exposé needed, badly. But I was confused by her family as well. These people were treating this girl—this young woman—like she had no say in her life. Like she wasn’t a person who could make her own choices. Like an object who had to yield to their commands. Sending heavy-handed men out to forcibly bring her back like that?
“They were trying to protect her,” I said, allowing sarcasm to coat my words.
He sighed. “Yes, that’s what they thought. They knew she’d come to California, they assumed to see me. That’s why they thought you were her. Because you both look so much alike. They knew for sure you weren’t when they couldn’t find the scar.”
“Scar?”
“She had to have surgery as a child for a congenital heart problem. It left a scar over her rib cage.”
Wow, that was serious. So that was why they’d ripped my bra. And I guessed it went part of the way to explaining why her mother worried about her.
“One of her heart valves was…twisted. I forgot the term. But she’s fine. Never had any problems after that,” he said, reading my thoughts.
“Sasha, I was so scared after they kidnapped me. Why didn’t you tell me then what happened?”
He took a deep breath, shook his head. “Because I was just so embarrassed—no, that’s not even a strong enough word. Just so mortified, and so horrendously angry at my family for coming here and doing that to you. Even if they thought you were her, for doing it to her. My mother…I love her but sometimes I just think she goes a little crazed sending them after her like that. I just was so…I just didn’t know how to tell you that those mobsters, those criminals, were related to me. And I was also so worried about my sister. As angry as I was at my uncle, I was also elated that Tatiana was alive and okay and had come to California, closer to me. But I still didn’t know where Tatiana was and if she would remain okay. At that point, I didn’t know what was going on with the Tokyo people, if they were still out to get her. I told my uncle I would not turn him in—at least for the time being—if they promised to continue looking for Tatiana and then to bring her to me—not my family back in Siberia, but to me—once they found her. And I promised, gave him my word, that if they ever touched you again, even if they mistook you for her, that I would kill them. And I meant it.”
He laced his fingers with mine, and held my hand tightly.
“Rory,” he continued. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s not okay. I know that because I was terrified for my sister’s safety didn’t make it okay to let them go after what they did to you. If you want to press charges against them, and me for being an accomplice, or whatever it’s called, then I will understand. I will. I am so sorry. When they brought you to me and put you in my arms and you were all limp, my heart fell out of my body. It was the most devastating feeling I have ever experienced in my life. When I thought you were d…I just…” His eyes began to pool with tears. “I reached for my uncle and nearly tore him apart with my bare hands. It is only because they soon told me you were only drugged and unharmed that…”
Still holding his hand, I inched as close as I could, lying at his side, wrapping myself in the crook of his arm. He reached around me with his other arm and held me. His whole body was shaking.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I don’t think I’ll be forgiving them anytime soon for scaring the hell out of me like that, and I still don’t think it’s right that they just took it upon themselves to go whisking your sister back to Russia against her will. But I understand your actions. And I would never turn you in. Don’t be ridiculous. I love you.”
He pressed his lips into my head, and released our handhold so he could wrap his other arm around my body. I melted into him, his body still shaking.
“It is really eerie though,” I continued. “I mean, that we look so much alike. Is that why you looked at me like you did when you first saw me?”
He laughed lightly. “No,” he said. “I mean, yes, okay, you reminded me of her. But I knew you weren’t her. No, you captivated me. Your presence. I don’t know what it was, Rory, but I was just completely spellbound. Somehow I just knew.”
“Knew what?” I wiggled myself further into his side, looked up into his eyes. They were bright, twinkling.
“That we would work together,” he said.
“How did you know?!” I squealed, trailing my fingers down his chest to his navel.
“I just did,” he said. “Just one of those things you know. It’s…unexplainable.”
“Okay, I believe you.” I giggled.
I’d wanted to ask about the American. But it was well into the morning hour and we needed to get up in only a few hours to sign autographs and pose for photos at Daiyu’s tent. I was going to look brilliant for that with all the craziness I’d undergone, not to mention the lack of sleep. I’d put the rest of the pieces of the puzzle together tomorrow, or later today. This seemed like a good note to snuggle up together and go to sleep on.
We held each other tightly under the covers. I’d waited so long for this night. But we’d been through too much drama, to put it mildly, for mad, passionate lovemaking. Plus it just seemed weird with his sister sleeping right behind the wall.
“We’ll make up for it tomorrow night,” he whispered in my ear, nibbling my earlobe, always reading my mind. Just like a spouse.
Chapter 17
We ordered room service for breakfast. No more English breakfast with all the fried, greasy, lard-laden tasty treats. I splurged on Eggs Florentine and had a nice large mimosa. Sasha got regular Eggs Benedict and Tatiana just had toast drenched with butter and jelly and a bowl of Fruit Loops cereal. She was twenty-two but still seemed like a kid. She didn’t speak at all. Sasha had told me she knew next to no English. I wondered how she’d communicated with her American husband but didn’t yet ask. Things were quiet between us. I didn’t know if I could call it tension—just silence. She didn’t look at me much, and when she did she’d look away immediately as if she’d gotten caught doing something wrong.
Despite Sasha’s insistence on not letting her out of his sight, she talked him into letting her stay at the hotel while we went back to the Winter Gardens for the signing and photos in Daiyu’s tent. She wanted to use the indoor pool and sauna and he gave her his credit card to use at the spa. His uncle and cousin—I couldn’t help but think of them as anything other than “the two scary goons”—stayed outside her door.
Her husband and his men were all in a holding facility, we’d been told. They’d likely go to trial here for kidnapping me, attempting to kidnap her, and for illegal possession of firearms and charges related to that crazy shootout, in which, miraculously, no one was hurt.
Her husband and his son were also being held for the assault on Arabelle. Amazingly, Cheryl had nothing to do with that. It was his son who’d tossed the water rocket down at us. He’d actually aimed at Sasha, thinking if Tatiana saw her brother hurt she’d come out of hiding and they’d pounce on her. Cheryl was actually in the clear.
“I can’t believe Cheryl had nothing to do with this,” I said to Sasha.
“I can.”
I squinted at him. “I know she’s a no one here, but after what she did to me at the studio, you still didn’t think she’d try anything?”
“I didn’t say that.” He looked me straight on, eyebrows raised. “After what she pulled before, I made sure she wouldn’t hurt you again. After you saw her here, I made some calls, had friends watching her. Believe me.”
“You coulda told me!” I play-jabbed him in the arm.
“I didn’t want you to worry in any way, an
d I knew you would if I let on I was concerned. So I acted like it was nothing. And see? It was.”
I rolled my eyes. But I was glad he’d had all bases covered and was looking out for me the whole time.
“And the Tokyo people had nothing to do with any of this?” I asked. “Oh wait,” I said, suddenly realizing something. “Is that why you kept going to Tokyo all the time?”
He nodded slowly, as if his head was heavy as solid marble. “I did have dance performances there, so I had a reason to go. Some of the time. Most of the time. But yes, a large part of the reason for my trips was to try to find my sister.”
“So did they have anything at all to do with this? Are they still after her?”
He shook his head. “Her husband paid off all her debts to them.”
“Oh good,” I said, relieved there’d at least be no Tokyo mob to deal with. “But now her husband thinks she owes him, right?”
“Well, that’s the excuse he’s using to get her back. I offered through his lawyers to pay him everything he paid the Tokyo people. But he apparently rejected my offer, said he wanted her to repay him by keeping her vows.”
“He can’t do that. That’s involuntary servitude.” I laughed.
“Yes, I know. But that doesn’t mean he won’t try to force her.”
“Not if he’s locked up here,” I said. “How did she get out here anyway?”
“Him,” he said with a smirk.
“You mean, she told him you were competing here and he brought her to see you?”
“No. He apparently didn’t know anything about me until he followed her here. I just meant, she used their credit card to purchase the ticket and left without him knowing. She was unhappy with him and wanted out of the marriage but didn’t know just what a tyrant he was. That he’d follow her and do all this.”
“Wow. So he trusted her…” My thoughts wandered. I had a lot to learn about Tatiana. Was she so desperate to get away from the Tokyo situation she just married him without thinking? Or did she really believe she loved him and later realize she didn’t? She didn’t really know what she was getting into with either situation—in Tokyo or California. I guessed I’d have plenty of time to talk to her. Sasha planned on letting her stay in his house until she recovered from all the psychological—and possibly physical—trauma and figured out where to go from here.
Sasha nodded as if reading my thoughts once again. “Tatiana is young but she is a very complex, complicated person, Rory. We all are, actually.”
“I know. I guess I will never learn to penetrate the deep, dark Russian soul.” I wrapped his arm tightly, protectively around me, like I’d once seen my favorite ballerina who played Odette, the Swan Queen, do with her Prince Siegfried in “Swan Lake.” I gazed up into his dark blues, vast as the ocean outside our window.
“I meant all human beings, Rory,” he said with a laugh, his eyes lightening.
“Oh.” I turned my gaze to the window. The sea really was beautiful here.
“I guess we’ll all be coming back in not too long to testify,” he said.
“Yup. I’m actually looking forward to seeing how a criminal trial here is different from one in California,” I said.
He smiled, and I smiled with him. I hadn’t thought about where my law career stood now that my dance dreams had come true. I hadn’t exactly had time. But I would always have a bit of the lawyer in me. That would never leave me.
***
Despite the paparazzi, the signing was a blast. People were just as excited to get my signature as they were Sasha’s. The funny thing was, since we’d never actually posed for pictures as the champions, because of what went down immediately prior to the naming of the final winners, Daiyu chose a photo of Sasha kissing me on the lips after one of our rumbas. The crowd had gone so wild whenever he’d done that, I thought it was an excellent idea. I nearly melted every time I signed. I didn’t want to cover our lips in any way, or any of our connecting body parts, so I signed over my dress. And posing for pictures wasn’t too painful either. Unbelievably, icing my cheek where I’d been hit had decreased the swelling tremendously, and Daiyu’s excellent makeup artist was able to cover over the bruising.
Even after everything that had happened with Tatiana, I still wasn’t completely over the shock that Sasha and I were the Blackpool Latin Champions. It would take weeks for that to sink in. We took loads of photos with fans. My face was beginning to hurt from smiling toward the end. But I loved every second of it, of course! This was what it was like to be a dance champion!
Every single newspaper and TV station wanted to interview us about the kidnapping and shooting. We rejected all of them, telling them the prosecutor had forbidden us to. It was just as well, as I had no desire whatsoever to rehash any of that. Nor did I want to do anything that might result in a defense attorney’s claim that Tatiana’s husband—who, by the way, happened to be a billionaire from Napa named Arnold Tucker—might have his right to a fair trial prejudiced by our blabbing to the press about factual details.
But I did grant an interview to the Blackpool Daily, so long as no questions were asked about the criminal incident. I felt like they wouldn’t ask too many wayward questions or beat up on me too much after all that had happened. And there had been some things I wanted to clear the air on from that initial article—like my not actually attending the School of American Ballet.
They assured me it would be short and painless. We went into one of the back practice rooms. The guy was really nice—a youngish English gent—and actually didn’t ask any prying questions. Could’ve been because Sasha was sitting next to me, his arm around me protectively, shooting daggers at him every time the poor man opened his mouth. He just asked me where I grew up, how I met Sasha and how I felt my ballet background helped me to learn ballroom so quickly. I made it a point to tell him I had been accepted to SAB in New York but wasn’t able to attend because of a family tragedy—my father’s death—combined with my subsequent need to be near my mother immediately following that, along with my developing an early form of anorexia, which I’d overcome. He looked genuinely concerned, so I opened up to him a bit about it. I wanted to be honest and open; I didn’t need skeletons in my closet coming back to haunt me. Plus, I was actually proud of myself for having overcome it.
“It’s very generous of you to be so forthcoming about this,” he said. “A great many young dancers—particularly females, and particularly ballet dancers—have a run-in with an eating disorder. You are definitely not alone. And congratulations to you for overcoming.” His face was full of sincerity. I trusted him.
“Thank you very much,” I said.
When I told him I’d met Sasha because I’d joined his studio after moving to Los Angeles to work as a lawyer, he was quite amused.
“I know of some amateur competitors who are in other professions,” he said with a chuckle, “but not many pro dancers. And lawyer—it uses quite a different mental skill set from dance, no?”
“Yes!” I practically shouted. I glanced at Sasha. He had that crooked smile that drove me wild. “Law is so analytical. You really have to shut off that part of your brain and just force yourself to feel. To feel the music, and the movement, and your body and your partner’s body. It’s a huge challenge not to think everything out all the time. Huge!”
He laughed and nodded. “And how in the world did you find time for dance training while practicing law?” he asked.
I laughed and shook my head. “I honestly don’t know. I just didn’t sleep or eat.”
He chuckled again and rolled his eyes. “I can’t imagine working a full-time job—any job—and training for a competition like this.”
“Yes, well…” I began, reminding myself I didn’t want any skeletons at all in that closet, and trying to find a way to phrase everything in a positive way. “I decided to take a hiatus from my job. I felt like, I’m young now, it’s now or never for me if I want a career in dance, and I had to know what I was capable of. I fell so i
n love with ballroom—and with Sasha…” I said with a giggle and bashful nod in the direction of that deliciously cocked grin. “I found myself so much more impassioned by the art of dance than by the art of lawyering that I decided…I decided to leave the legal profession and give this my all.” I shrugged and held my head down. But when I looked up he was smiling and nodding, as if what I’d said made perfect sense. I’d never had such an easy time convincing someone a dance career was a valid decision. Then I remembered I was talking to a dance lover, to an artist, not to one of my family members.
“Well, that decision paid off quite well,” he said.
Yes. It most certainly did.
***
We stayed in Blackpool for the rest of the week, to speak with investigators and to watch the other competitions. Maurizio competed Friday night and we’d planned to stay to cheer him on anyway. There was more security at the fancier hotel outside of town that we’d moved our things to, so we felt safer, just in case Turner had more surprises in store for Tatiana. We had such a gorgeous view, overlooking the ocean. We invited our close friends—Paulina, Raj and Sam, Greta, and some of Sasha’s closer dance friends from Russia who he rarely saw—to have our final Blackpool toast out on our lovely balcony.
“So what now?” Samantha asked. “You guys going to keep competing and give Greta and Dean a run for their money?” She giggled.
“Probably,” I said with a shrug. I honestly hadn’t even thought about it. My life in Los Angeles seemed so far away right now.
“That would be some amazing feat,” Raj said. “They were on top for, what, ten years altogether?”
Oh crap, I hadn’t thought of that. In ten years we’d be thirty-five and thirty-six, respectively. According to the Blackpool organizers, officially “seniors.”
