Beneath the Parisian Skies

by Alli Sinclair

  * * *

  Viktoriya took advantage of the deserted theatre and found a peaceful place to sort through her emotions. She sat on the stage, her legs dangling over the edge, as she balanced the Picasso drawings Diaghilev had insisted she take. She knew what he was doing, and, unfortunately, his plan seemed to be working. Viktoriya put the artwork face down, annoyed with Diaghilev insinuating himself into her personal life.

  He had no right to tell her what to do. He certainly had no right to bully her. But, much to her chagrin, he had valid points. Her relationship with Alexei was in shambles. Working so closely together meant myriad problems but she was a professional and would carry on, regardless of the ache in her heart. Alexei, on the other hand, showed no signs of being capable of entertaining a civil relationship—working or otherwise. Her biggest fear, though, was Alexei’s reaction once he heard about Erik’s proposal. If she could just find out what had caused these dramatic changes in Alexei’s personality then maybe she could help. Although the sadness growing within told her perhaps it would be too little, too late.

  Regardless of Alexei’s recent behaviour, Viktoriya could never abandon him. He’d been there for her in the early days in Petrograd, when she’d been a lonely, shy, waif of a girl. He became her confidante, her mentor and later, her lover. Her conscience wouldn’t let her desert him now he needed help. She owed him that much.

  Visions of Erik’s bright blue eyes, gentle smile and velvety voice flooded her being and an air of sadness fell around her. She admired his down-to-earth nature despite hailing from one of the most wealthy and influential families in Europe. She loved his deep understanding and passion for ballet and, in a world falling to pieces from war, Erik was a safe port in a tumultuous storm. Given the luxury of time, Viktoriya had a very strong feeling she could love him.

  ‘What is wrong with me?’ Her voice echoed in the empty theatre as she picked up Picasso’s drawings and tossed them across the stage. The moment the artwork slammed into the curtain at the wings, guilt for disrespecting the artist’s work washed over her. Getting up, she hastily retrieved the drawings, checking for damage. They were intact.

  She held the images in her hand, imagining what it would be like to have a ballet created for her. It was every dancer’s dream, yet here she stood, on the stage of one of Europe’s most prestigious theatres, about to throw that dream in the gutter. And for what? The need to protect someone who only caused damage to himself and those who loved him? She hung her head in shame. How could she have gone from loving someone so deeply to being barely able to be in the same room as him?

  She sighed and turned her attention to the images once more. Visions of her dancing, twirling across the stage, her body clad in a costume with hues of blue and green. When she closed her eyes she could hear the music, feel the energy spurring her to stretch further, twirl faster, step lighter…Her muscles tensed and before she could stop herself, Viktoriya stood and moved to the centre of the stage, a haunting tune thrumming through her body.

  Swaying to the right, she stretched her arm over her head then swayed to the left, as if she were under the ocean, the current dictating her direction. She pointed her toes, happy her bare feet weren’t confined in pointe shoes. Humming a tune of no particular origin, Viktoriya twirled and twisted across the boards, a new energy flowing through her veins. Her skin tingled, her toes flexed and limbs stretched. Pulling her thigh muscles taut, Viktoriya sped across the stage then leapt. For a glorious moment she soared through the air, her heart full of joy, her body tingling with freedom. Her feet lightly hit the boards, and she pushed her body harder, faster, the energy increasing with each pirouette. Dancing the width and breadth of the stage, her body gave into the moment, immersed in a sea of beauty. She stepped into a pirouette—

  ‘Pure magic.’

  Viktoriya halted and lost balance. Stumbling to a standing position, she peered through the bright light at the dark shadow.

  ‘Alexei?’

  ‘Who did you expect it to be?’ He stepped towards her, the light catching his furrowed brows.

  ‘I didn’t know if you were here.’ She didn’t bother mentioning Yana was in a rehearsal room with Massine. It wasn’t Alexei’s business and she didn’t have the energy to go into the whys and wherefores of Yana’s dancing. ‘I didn’t expect anyone to be in the theatre.’

  ‘Except for your lover?’ Alexei moved towards her with a slight sway.

  ‘Alexei, stop it. He wants to invest in the company, nothing more.’ It troubled her how easily the lie had fallen but she couldn’t tell him the truth. At least not until she’d made a final decision. Why was it so hard?

  ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘I’m not.’ She held her chin high, hoping she looked more confident than she felt. Inside, her heart was in turmoil.

  ‘You changed the moment that moneyed monster arrived in our lives.’ Alexei moved in close, his face inches from hers. The stench of stale alcohol assailed her nostrils and she stepped back. Was alcohol to blame for his behaviour? And if so, how could she get him to stop?

  ‘Alexei—’

  ‘A dancer isn’t good enough for you anymore?’ He stepped in her direction and she moved away again.

  ‘We have an opportunity to do something brilliant but it won’t happen unless Cheverin’s on board. Alexei, please, let’s cooperate so we can get that break we’ve both worked so hard for.’

  ‘He wants you.’

  She bit her lip, not sure how to answer and she sent a silent prayer, hoping he knew nothing about the proposal. ‘It’s not a matter of who wants—’

  ‘It’s true, I do want her.’

  She looked towards the back of the theatre where a shaft of light from the open door silhouetted Erik. Oh, no. His timing couldn’t have been worse.

  Alexei angled a finger at Erik, who strode down the aisle towards the stage. ‘Stay away from her.’

  ‘Please, Alexei,’ she said.

  ‘What is wrong with you?’ he spat. ‘He’s using his money and status and promises of fame to get you into his bed.’

  ‘What kind of person do you think I am?’ She shoved her hands on her hips.

  ‘You slept with me,’ Alexei said loudly.

  Her gaze travelled to Erik, who smirked at Alexei’s comment. Why would he do that?

  The baron leapt with athletic prowess onto the stage and marched across the boards to Viktoriya. Wrapping his fingers around hers, he said, ‘I have asked her to marry me.’

  She swallowed hard then locked eyes with Alexei, who stood in silence, opening and closing the hands by his side.

  Easing away from Erik, she stepped towards Alexei, who pulled her gently towards him.

  Quietly he said, ‘I’m sorry for my outburst, that was uncalled for. You don’t need to do this, Viktoriya. Nothing is worth selling your soul for. Even if you don’t want to be with me, please don’t marry him to save the ballet company.’ Alexei squeezed her shoulder. ‘What would your family say?’

  He knew exactly which target to hit. ‘Alexei—’

  ‘So you’ve already made up your mind?’ The way Alexei’s face creased showed he wasn’t over her yet. The hot tears in her eyes told her she wasn’t over him, either.

  She looked back at Erik. His lips were turned up in a grin, like he’d already won. Seeing this side of him for the first time made her wonder if the Erik Cheverin she’d come to know was an imposter. What kind of man took delight in the suffering of another?

  The door creaked open and the man she recognised as the baron’s driver cleared his throat and started walking down the aisle. ‘Baron Cheverin, as requested, your car is outside, waiting for—’

  ‘I’m not ready, Borisov.’ The baron’s reply came out like a growl. The driver stepped into the shadows, the light from the stage glinting off the metal band on his cap.

  Turning her attention back to Alexei, Viktoriya said, slowly and steadily, ‘I haven’t given the baron an answer.’

  ‘Oh, we all
know what the answer will be.’ Erik grabbed Viktoriya by the arm. ‘You will be a perfect asset to the estate. You being a dancer will drive my parents insane. I can’t wait until they hear about us.’

  ‘What?’ She shook her arm free. How could she have read him so wrong? ‘You want me so you can prove a point to your parents?’

  Alexei’s upper lip curled as he turned to the baron. ‘You think you’re so fucking untouchable with your money and your status. You have no idea what it’s like to work for anything. You don’t know what it’s like to suffer. And yet you waltz in here and take whatever you want—including the woman I love. It won’t happen. Ever.’ He gripped Viktoriya’s free arm and stared hard at the baron. ‘You might have money and power but you don’t get her.’

  ‘Alexei…’ Viktoriya tried to wrench her arm free but his grip tightened.

  ‘I suggest you keep your hands off Viktoriya.’ The baron’s even tone held a sinister edge.

  ‘She is mine,’ said Alexei.

  She wrestled for a moment and managed to yank both arms away. ‘I am not a piece of property!’

  ‘But you love me.’ Alexi’s large eyes pleaded with hers and heaviness fell around her heart.

  The baron towered above but she refused to let him intimidate her. Taking a step away from both men, she said, ‘This is a difficult situation for all of us and I feel terrible that I’m the cause of it. Perhaps we just need to take a break and I’ll meet with you individually tomorrow. How does that sound?’

  ‘No way am I leaving you alone with him.’ Alexei narrowed his eyes at his nemesis.

  ‘Meet me tonight, Viktoriya. I’ll show you why you need to be with me.’ The self-satisfied look the baron shot Alexei sent her patience over the edge.

  ‘That’s it!’ She flung her arms wide. ‘Neither of you are respecting my feelings or seem to understand I am more than capable of making up my own mind. I have had enough!’ She stormed over to her bag and slung it over her shoulder. One of the men muttered something and a second later the sound of scuffling filled her ears. Viktoriya pivoted to find the baron lurching at Alexei, who stumbled back. As he grabbed the curtain for balance, it made an ominous ripping noise.

  ‘Stop it!’ she screamed.

  Her protests fell away as the sound of fists smashing into body parts filled her ears. The baron put his hands around Alexei’s neck as he pushed him towards the centre of the stage.

  ‘Stop it!’ Her yell came out as a rasp as her throat constricted. Racing over to the men, she tried to pry them apart by digging her nails into bare flesh, not caring who she hurt as long as she could stop them from thrashing each other.

  A flash of skin then a sharp ache hit her eye.

  ‘Argh!’ She doubled over, cupping her hand over her throbbing face. Struggling to gain balance, she stumbled then fell heavily to her knees. Pain rocketed through her bones as she rose to all fours, the two men tussling a few feet away.

  ‘Brute!’ The baron shoved Alexei, knocking him to the floor. He jumped on him, throwing wild punches, while Alexei covered his head with his arms. The thud of bones and flesh being pummelled made her ill. What if the baron injured Alexei so badly he couldn’t dance?

  ‘Enough!’ She jumped on the men again, anger coursing through her veins. How could they behave like street urchins?

  Viktoriya’s arm fell into a gap and as Alexei and the baron wrestled, she got pulled down into the fray. The men rolled around and knees and elbows and fists battered her body. Finally breaking free, she crawled away, stood then laid a bare foot into the nearest body.

  ‘For God’s sake! Stop!’

  Her throat was raw from yelling but neither man heard, or if they did, they were so intent on destroying the other her pleas went unanswered. They got to their knees then feet, still holding on to each other, moving in circles, making blows whenever they could.

  She turned to the driver. ‘Stop them, please!’

  He moved forward but Erik yelled, ‘Not another step. I’ll sort this out soon enough.’

  ‘I’m calling the police!’ she yelled. This time, they stopped and finally turned their attention to her. ‘What the hell is wrong with you two?’

  The men still clutched each other’s shirt collar.

  Blood ran from a cut near Alexei’s eye. ‘He’s not having you.’

  ‘She’s not going to take a broke dancer over money.’ The baron let go of Alexei and stepped towards her, his hand outstretched. ‘With me you can live your dreams. You’ll get your ballet.’

  ‘I will not be manipulated into a position where I owe something I can never repay.’ The baron’s arrogance had jolted her to her senses.

  ‘You don’t owe me anything.’ Erik’s tone held an undercurrent of growing anger. She suspected he was unused to his wishes being refused.

  ‘It doesn’t matter how many ways you paint it, I will owe you. You don’t love me,’ Viktoriya said.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘You love the idea of me. The real me is something entirely different.’ She turned to Alexei, who was bent over, holding his side, his breath coming out in short, sharp bursts. ‘Alexei, are you badly hurt?’

  ‘You’re going to throw it all away for him?’ The baron’s deep voice echoed in the theatre. He sounded incredulous.

  ‘Why do you want me when just about every other woman in Europe would be happy to have you?’

  ‘Because…’ His gaze flicked away then rested back on her. ‘Because you represent everything I want. You’re talented, have a kind heart and an air of innocence but at the same time you are incredibly strong.’

  ‘Marrying me does not mean my attributes will transfer to you. Besides, you said I would upset your parents. I am not some plaything that can be used to anger people.’

  ‘It was wrong of me to say that. Marry me, I’ll make you happy, I promise.’

  ‘What utter bullshit.’ Alexei limped to stand between her and Erik. He leaned in close to his nemesis. Between gritted teeth, he said, ‘You’re using her and I won’t have it. No one believes your lies. Go back to where you came from.’

  The baron drew up to his full height. ‘Go back to your village, peasant.’

  ‘Argh!’ Alexei lunged forward and grabbed the baron around the neck, digging his thumbs in. They struggled around the stage, dangerously close to the edge. With one swift movement, the baron’s arms shot up and he broke free. While Alexei tried to gain a foothold, Erik landed a forceful punch to his nose. He staggered to the left, to the right, then teetered backward, the edge of the stage only inches away. Erik stepped forward and she was thankful he was so close but instead of grabbing him, Erik gave a gentle shove.

  Viktoriya bolted towards Alexei, trying to catch his jacket tail but his weight ripped it out of her hands. With outstretched arms, wide eyes and open mouth, Alexei fell over the edge and out of sight.

  ‘Oh Jesus!’ Viktoriya rushed to the edge, got on her hands and knees, and peered into the darkness. She turned and screamed at the baron, ‘What the hell have you done?’

  The baron’s hands were in his pockets, his expression nonchalant.

  ‘Don’t stand there, help me!’ She jumped into the pit, pain rushing through her feet when she landed. Scouring the dark, she reached out and blindly felt the walls, floor, chairs, for Alexei. A lone shoe caught her attention, quickly followed by a low moan. Scurrying to the corner, she dropped to her knees and shook him gently. ‘Alexei.’

  Viktoriya ran her hand over his head and a wet, sticky heat covered her skin. Peering closer, she found a pool of blood underneath his head and a red river flowing from his nose and ears.

  ‘Oh God,’ she muttered then yelled into the darkness. ‘I need help!’

  Silence met her.

  Where had Erik gone? Was he so cowardly that he’d bolted?

  Where was the driver? Surely he had a conscience, even if Erik didn’t. How on earth could she get help when she couldn’t leave Alexei?

  ‘Oh no,’ she hung her
head, ‘I did this.’

  The door to the theatre flung open, crashing into the wall. Light footfalls skipped down the aisle as a young voice hummed a happy tune.

  ‘Viktoriya? I’ve finished now. Where are you? You said we’d meet here.’

  ‘Yana!’ she yelled and the sound of running echoed in the vast expanse of the theatre. ‘I’m down here.’

  Yana’s face appeared over the edge of the pit, her eyes wide, her mouth gaping.

  ‘Go get help. Diaghilev should be in his office still. Find Massine. Find anyone, tell them we need a doctor. Just be quick!’

  Alexei moaned and Yana bolted through the theatre, the door slamming behind her.

  Viktoriya had no idea if it was half a minute or ten, but eventually the door opened again and footsteps hurried towards her. A shaft of light illuminated the orchestra pit. Shielding her eyes, she croaked, ‘Please, he needs help.’

  ‘We’re here.’ She’d never been so happy to hear Diaghilev’s booming voice.

  Dark figures jumped into the pit while others held lanterns. Someone placed their hands under her arms, gently dragging her away from Alexei while others inspected him, their hands delving into large bags of medical equipment.

  ‘Please.’ She reached out for Alexei but the men had already attached him to a makeshift stretcher, carefully passing him up and over the edge of the pit. A thick blanket was wrapped around her and it was only then she realised how much her body was shaking and teeth were chattering.

  ‘Will he be all right?’ she asked, petrified of the answer.

  ‘He’s in good hands,’ Olga whispered as she hugged Viktoriya against her large bosom.

  ‘He can’t die. I love him.’

  CHAPTER

  29

  After saying goodbye to Natalie, Lily had returned to the apartment and started the daunting process of packing. She placed the last of her shoes in her overstuffed suitcase then padded around checking in drawers, under the bed, behind cabinets. She’d done this half-a-dozen times since she’d gotten up this morning, having risen before sunrise after a fitful night’s sleep. Yes, she’d made headway with her sister and had no doubt that time would help them find their way to back to each other. But she still felt uneasy about her sister’s confession about her love for Aiden, though if she wanted Natalie back into her life, Lily had to find a way to work through it. After all, she’d had to deal with worse.