by Kenya Wright
“Oh no.”
His voice went tense. “What’s wrong?”
“I already had a date with Bob this evening.”
He growled. “Why do you tempt me like this? Don’t you want to make it to the stage tonight?”
I giggled. “I’m just having fun.”
“Your pussy will pay for that later.”
My tone shifted to hunger. “I hope so.”
“We’re being seated now, Ava. I’ll talk to you after the performance.”
“Okay.”
“Good luck. You’ll be amazing as always.”
“Thank you.”
“Goodbye.” He hung up.
I shut my phone off and directed my view to my reflection. Love flowed in my eyes. A silly grin spread across my face.
Girl, you have it bad for him.
Tonight, I would dance. But it wouldn’t be Nikiya dancing for Solor. Every turn would be for Misha. Every leap. Every jump. It would all be for him and no one else. Not the audience or the company. Not St Petersburg. Not even for the future generations of black ballerinas.
Tonight, I dance for you, Misha.
I picked up a bottle of perfume, sprayed a little, and checked my watch.
Almost time.
I went to the center of the room, lowered to the ground, and balanced on my knees. There, I bent over and sank even further, pressing my forehead to the ground and not caring if some of my makeup was ruined.
Thank you, God. Thank you for keeping all of us safe—Misha, Grandma, and me. Thank you for my ability to dance. Thank you for this new love blooming with Misha. Thank you for your continued protection. Your continued blessings. Your continued love.
Out loud, I ended the prayer. “In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.”
Usually, my hands shook when I rose. This time, no tension came. After all that had happened—my grandmother’s surprise appearance, Misha killing and revealing his true criminal self, and the theater’s attempt at auctioning my body—I’d grown up a lot in the last few days.
This Ava going on stage is not one that they have ever seen before.
I left the quiet of my dressing room and entered the mayhem backstage. My guards followed.
Yefim walked on my side as we moved through the small city of organized chaos. Hundreds of dancers rushed into position. Costumes, wigs, and props lined the walls. Stagehands ran back and forth. Ballet masters jogged behind them, checking off stuff in their notepads.
We passed a small room, where several dancers warmed up together. Some stretched. Others twirled. The rest practiced their routines in the small space.
I leaned Yefim’s way. “Thanks.”
He drank the excitement in and looked at me. “What did I do?”
“You kept Misha calm.”
He smirked, raising one of his scarred cheeks. “I didn’t calm him. You did.”
Two ballerinas raced by. “Where’s the seamstress?!”
I stopped us in front of the entrance to the stage and turned to him. “The guards and you usually don’t come this far.”
“From now on we will. That also keeps Misha calm.”
“Where will you be while I dance?”
“Here. We’ll do our best to stay out of everyone’s way.”
“Okay.” I noticed Akiva enter the stage from the other side. He held a microphone in his hand.
Around the front of the stage, the musicians paused from their warmups.
Everyone quieted.
Akiva raised the microphone to his lips. “Hello, and thank you for attending tonight’s performance of La Bayadere.”
I pulled the thick curtain back and peeked in Misha’s direction. There he sat in his VIP box. Grandma was on his right. A large older man was on his left.
Who is the older man?
I spotted Maxwell in the seat behind him.
Akiva spoke, “The theater has suffered another tragic loss in the passing of our most dedicated patrons—Mr. Kuznetsov, Mr. Oblonskey, and Mr. Turgenev.”
All went somber.
“We mourn these three great men who have financially backed many of our performances and maintained the continued art of ballet in not just St Petersburg, but all of Russia.”
A few ballerinas came near me. My guards moved back and gave them space.
On my left, Alyssa whispered to me, “I’m glad they’re dead.”
I kept my thoughts to myself.
“They were disgusting men.” Alyssa glanced back at the stage and kept her voice down. “Tell your boyfriend that we say thank you.”
I gritted my teeth.
Oh shit. They know.
On the stage, Akiva continued, “These honorable men were so dedicated, they’d been at the theater to donate more money when the rip in the gas line happened, igniting a fire and taking these men away.”
Behind me, a ballerina giggled.
Akiva dabbed at his eyes as if he needed to wipe a tear. “I know that those men are in heaven, flying around and looking down at us tonight.”
A few ballerinas snickered.
Akiva placed his free hand on his heart. “Therefore, this performance is dedicated to them. Tonight, our company will dance for these honorable men and their families.”
“No.” Alyssa rolled her eyes and turned to everyone behind us. “Tonight, we dance for Ava. She stopped the hell.”
Several muttered, “Yes.”
My eyes watered, realizing that they’d clearly been victims of these men and others. No words left my lips. Many emotions hit me—sadness that these men had raped some, guilt that I had no idea, hope that all of this would finally be over, and anxiety that with so many people knowing, Misha could be in trouble.
I glanced over my shoulder at Yefim as if needing him to anchor me. Surely, he had been close enough to hear it all.
When our gazes caught, he winked.
Okay. I guess I shouldn’t worry.
“May they rest in peace.” Akiva gave a half bow and walked off stage.
The audience clapped.
Someone patted my back. I turned. It was Ivory. This ballerina barely talked to me but had never been mean. She had pale white skin and black hair like a china doll with the bluest eyes. Anger blazed on her face. “May they rest in hell.”
Chapter 3
Misha
Captivating.
Gripping the edge, I leaned forward in my balcony seat. As always, I craved to be closer to the stage.
One day, we’ll move into a house. There, I’ll have a stage for Ava to only dance for me. And when she turns like that, I will come on that stage and take her right there. Make her orgasm and shake in those ballet shoes.
She was supposed to be Nikiya the temple dancer. Instead, she was Ava the prima ballerina. There would be no mistaking who she was. This evening, she solidified her position in history. With every move, she told the audience that no one would compare. Nobody else could fly in the air like her. She rose as if she had wings. Supernatural power. She turned with so much speed at times she blurred.
Be careful.
She transformed the very definition of what ballet should be. Every one of her movements was a combination of masterful technique lathered in poetic expressiveness. Tonight, she proved to us all that dance could not satisfy only the eye, but a performance could penetrate the soul.
Pirouetting and leaping high in the air, Ava’s skin flushed and glimmered in the haunting light.
Adrenaline coursed through me.
My heart beats increased.
Most of the first act, Mrs. Jones held her hands to her chest and whispered to me, “She’s going to give me a heart attack. Is she supposed to leap that high?”
“I don’t know.”
“Every time she lands, I’m scared she’s going to break something.”
“Me too.”
The first act ended, she stood with her long legs extended and balanced on the tips of her toes, showing impeccable strength and restraint. The lights dimmed. O
nly her silhouette remained within the temple’s fire.
The audience shouted and clapped.
My cock grew hard.
Rolan leaned next to me. “Not bad. But is her grandmother single?”
I clenched my teeth. “Not bad? That was art in motion. That was—”
“Good. But when does this end?”
My cock went soft. “Do not talk to me until this is over.”
“So there’s more?”
“Yes, and don’t worry about her grandmother being single.”
“It doesn’t matter if she is or not. I would just need to know the man’s name so I could kill him.”
“Enough, batya.”
My phone vibrated in my pants. Frowning, I pulled it out and checked the message. My annoyance left.
Valentina: Fine. We can meet.
Me: When and where? I’ll come to you.
Valentina: No. We will come to your condo.
Excitement flowed through me.
I smiled.
Me: When you say we. . .you mean my daughter and you?
Valentina: Yes. But we just meet with you and your guards. No ballerina or any of your other whores.
I frowned at that text but pushed through my aggravation. Valentina was going to bring Natalya. It appeared this battle with her on fatherhood would be easier than I thought.
Me: Fine. When?
Valentina: After you go to Paris and help my brother.
I scowled at my phone.
Me: This better not be a trick. When I return from Paris, I want to meet my daughter.
Valentina: You will.
I put away my phone.
The audience continued to cheer, even after the orchestra began a new song to start the second act.
I should have known that Valentina’s compliance would come with ultimatums.
My balcony’s door opened. I didn’t bother to look. Maxwell always went to smoke around this time. I figured that he left for a break.
A minute later, someone nudged me from behind. I checked and spotted Maxwell still in his seat.
“Yo, who’s that?” Maxwell pointed at the door.
I looked in that direction.
Pavel.
I groaned, knowing where this was going. Earlier, Valentina warned me about her brother sending Pavel to fetch me.
And here is the idiot.
Looking like a disco dancer, Pavel wore a bright white suit with a black shirt and tie. His long hair was curled at the tips and ran well past his shoulders. It might have reached the middle of his back.
I glared at him, ready to snatch him by those tresses and sling him off the balcony.
He gestured for me to come.
Light appeared on the stage. The second act was beginning. Ava would be out in ten minutes.
You send this long-haired idiot for me, Kazimir? Did you really think he could make me go anywhere?
I rose and signaled for Maxwell to join me. Rolan remained too hypnotized with Mrs. Jones to follow. How interesting that Rolan was worried about me being distracted by new pussy. Here he was completely sidetracked. Most of the performance I caught him gazing Mrs. Jones’s way.
Pavel noticed my approach, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway.
Let’s make this quick.
Maxwell whispered by me. “Are you going to tell me who this guy is?”
“One of Kazimir’s men that he has sent to get me.”
“What’s up with his whole. . .outfit? Is he a fan of the movie Saturday Night Fever?”
“I never heard of the movie so I don’t know, but Pavel is a moron that thinks he has style.” I entered the hallway.
Pavel glared. “I heard that, Misha.”
“Good.”
The door shut behind me.
“I’m sorry about your father.” Pavel maintained a serious expression. “He was a good man.”
My father tattooed Pavel many times. Several summers, Pavel also would come and visit Kazimir in Prague. Even then, he kept his hair long and past his shoulders. I’d never seen it short.
What will we do with Miss Pavel today?
I checked out the group of people he’d brought along—the usual Brotherhood guards. Six men stood behind him. I looked up and down the hallway. My men weren’t in sight.
“Where are my people?”
“I sent them outside.” Pavel ran his fingers through his hair, tossing it to the side like a woman. “Do you know why I’m here?”
I rolled my eyes. “So that you can show me how pretty you are?”
“No. You already know that.” He twirled the end of one strand around his finger. “You’ve been ignoring your cousin. The Lion wants to talk to you.”
“I’ll call him after the performance.”
“That won’t do.” Pavel tossed his hair over the other shoulder and finally left the mane alone. “You’re coming with me to Paris. Right now.”
“I have a plane set to leave early in the morning.”
“No need. I have the Lion’s plane. You can give your staff a rest. Let’s go.”
“I don’t ride his plane unless mine isn’t near. Therefore, my plane is here, so I’ll leave early in the morning.”
Pavel gestured to his men.
They pulled out their guns.
“Eh.” Fast, Maxwell had his gun out and by his side. Thankfully, he didn’t point it at Pavel. “Keep it cool, man. We’re at a ballet.”
“Exactly.” I clenched my jaw. “This is a classy event. No bullets or guns out while we’re in the theater. Put them away. Now.”
Pavel crossed his arms over his shoulder. “Will you come with me?”
“Yes.”
Pavel signaled his men to get rid of the weapons. They put the guns up. Maxwell followed.
“Let’s go, Misha.” Pavel walked off.
“No.” I pointed to the left. “This way. We leave out the side of the theater.”
“As long as we leave.” Pavel spun around. His hair twirled with him. It was almost a sidekick of some sorts—moving and flowing all on its own. He lifted his hand like a delicate woman and gestured for me to go ahead. “Lead the way, please.”
Of all people. This is who you send?
I walked off. Maxwell stayed on my side. Pavel and his men followed behind us.
Maxwell kept his voice low. “So, we’re going to Paris now?”
“You’ve been around me for a while. What do you think?”
“Ava is still dancing, so that’s a no.”
“This is why you’re my homey.”
“Then what’s the plan?”
“Follow my lead.”
Pavel spoke behind us. “I don’t know what you two are chatting about, but I hope it’s the weather.”
Maxwell glanced over his shoulder. “We’re actually admiring that white suit of yours.”
“Thank you.”
“It reminds me of the dude from that movie Saturday Night Fever. John Travolta.”
I frowned. “He looks like a clown.”
An edge hit Pavel’s voice. “I didn’t have much notice about going to the theater tonight. Misha, you should be lucky that I dressed up at all.”
“I don’t feel lucky.”
“No matter.” Pavel chuckled to himself. “At least I’m not dressed like I’m a twin. You two both are wearing the same suit. Are you both going to perform together after the ballet? Do a little duet on stage?”
His men laughed.
I scowled and increased my pace.
“Hey, man.” Maxwell waved the comment away. “We have similar tastes and we enjoy dressing alike.”
I winked at him. “That’s right.”
We hit the fire exit at the end of the hallway.
I opened the door, leading us out into the side alleyway. Maxwell walked out. I continued and let the door shut behind us, forcing Pavel to open it himself.
He did and walked through. “You’re quite the gentleman, Misha.”
“Am I?”<
br />
“You just opened the door for your lover. That inspired me to be better to my ladies from now on.”
“Hold up.” Maxwell headed his way. “You calling me a bitch or something?”
I stopped Maxwell. “Not yet. Wait until his men come out.”
“Yeah.” Pavel tossed his hair onto the other shoulder. “Wait until my men come out.”
His guards entered the alley.
I glanced to the alley’s opening. There, my men appeared, marching forward. It must have been around thirty.
“What’s this?” Pavel growled.
“My men. Lots of them.” I turned back to Pavel. “Why would you think that you could take me out of St Petersburg? You do remember this is my home? I have cameras all over this theater. When my people see me distressed, they send an army. This group is just the first.”
Pavel’s men took out their guns. However, worry crossed their faces.
Pavel looked away from my oncoming men and directed his view to me. “Prague is your home. I should be getting you from there while you’re burying your father.”
I sneered. “That’s big boy business. Stay on your side of the highway, and I’ll stay on mine.”
“The Lion asked me to get you. That means that I’m on official big boy business.”
“Kazimir told you to fetch me like the servant you are. So happy to get a command from Master, you washed and pressed your hair, put on your best suit, and hurried along.”
“There was no need for a wash and press. It was already together.” Pavel kissed the air. “Is there a reason why you’re so rude this evening?”
My men made it down to us and flanked our way.
“Why am I rude?” I tilted my head to the side. “Do you know why I’m at the theater tonight?”
“For your ballerina.”
“Good.” I held out my hand to the closest man. He pulled his gun from the holster and gave it to me. I walked over to Pavel and stopped two inches in front of him. “I am here for my ballerina. I enjoy watching her dance. In fact, she’s on stage right now. And nothing would piss me off more than her looking up from the stage and not seeing me there.”
Unrattled, Pavel gestured at my hand. “What do you think you’re going to do with that gun?”
“For a year, I’ve barely missed a performance. I can only think of one time and that was when I thought Kazimir was dead. I rushed to Prague to console my father and deal with my own grief.”
