Chapter 44
EVELINA
“Again. From the diagonal. Let it breathe, Evelina! Don’t rush it!”
My muscles scream as Madame Kuzmina circles me like a shark smelling blood in the water. Her eyes follow my every movement, critiquing in real time.
“Yes, like that…good. Hold the développé a hair longer. Let them see it, let them enjoy it…good.”
My leg muscles tense. Focus churns through my bloodstream.
“Now close—good. That's clean. The balance happens before the turn, not as part of it. Don’t fling the arms, place them. Sharp here, not frantic. Better. Again.”
I end up doing the entirety of the Black Swan solo/coda twice more under her scrutinizing gaze.
“That was good, Evelina,” she nods. “Quite good. You’ve found a maturity in the last couple of months I don’t believe I’ve seen in your work before.”
Well, shit.
Did the Earth just stop turning?
Because I do believe Madame Kuzmina just complimented my dancing. And on the Kuzmina scale, that was a freaking rave review.
I grin as I push stray hairs out of my face and gulp from my water bottle.
“Thank you, Madame,” I smile. “I appreciate it.”
She nods, twirling the rings on her fingers which always make me imagine her as fortune teller. Then she peers at me closely, almost suspiciously.
“You’ve been training elsewhere? An outside coach?”
I blink. “What? No, definitely not.”
Madame taps her chin with one ringed finger, still looking as if she’s trying to pry out my secrets.
Then slowly, her face clears and she smiles.
“Ah. You have a boyfriend.”
Jesus. Is she a fortune teller?
My face heats.
“I…” I bite my lip. “Yeah, I do.”
“I knew it.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you actually saying that love makes you a better dancer?”
She snorts. “Of course not, Evelina.”
Her brow arches almost imperceptibly as she leans closer.
“But getting fucked well does.”
Two hours later, after I’ve put out the fire that used to be my face, and everyone else has left, I’m back on stage, going over the Black Swan piece again.
The Zakharova just did Swan Lake a little over a year ago, and Naomi killed it as the lead.
But there’s a performance in a few months of some crowd favorites for a special audience of VIP benefactors, and Madame K asked me to give it a shot.
I want it to be perfect, particularly since it's not the sort of role she ever lets me do.
I nail the ending and then exhale in a whoosh. Sweat sheens my skin. My body sags, shoulder rolling forward as I slowly stretch out my back.
The slow clap coming from the darkness of the theater jolts me upright in a nanosecond. My heart lurches into my throat as I stab my gaze into the shadows, tensing when I see a figure slowly emerging.
“Vaughn?” I say quietly.
“Try again.”
I shudder, slowly backing away.
Why does that voice sound familiar?
I glance behind me, to where my gear is heaped at the side of the stage. In a flash, I bolt over and yank the little keychain-sized can of pepper spray out of the side pocket of my bag that Milena has insisted that I carry for the last…well, as long as I’ve known her.
I whirl, brandishing it at the shadowy figure as he approaches the stage.
“Stay the fuck back!” I snarl, reaching for my phone, too. “I don’t know how you got in here, but you’ve got three seconds to get out before I call the police.”
“Ahh, but I don’t think you want to do that, Evelina,” he murmurs, pausing just beyond the glow of the lights at the front of the stage.
How does he know my name?
“Because if you were to call the police, you would find yourself in the awkward position of having to explain why you were there when Andrés Torvallés was murdered, and yet have never once come forward.”
This is impossible.
Just as I say it to myself again, like a protective incantation, the impossible becomes reality and Andrés Torvallés steps out of the shadows.
He smiles darkly at me, his eyes glinting with savage amusement. I struggle for breath, my hands shaking.
“I—”
“Behold Lazarus, back from the dead,” he growls, winking. “Surprised?”
I swallow numbly, blinking as I stand there shaking, still holding the pepper spray out in front of me.
“I…I don’t understand,” I choke. “You… He killed you.”
Andrés chuckles. “You assumed he did. Did you actually see him do it?”
He smiles coldly and steps a little further into the light. For the first time I can see that his face is bruised, with a small bandage covering perhaps stitches above his left eyebrow.
“But…Vaughn—”
I shudder, trying to think. But it feels like years ago at this point. I remember Vaughn yanking Andrés out of the car, the knife flashing, the mad chase through the woods before he pinned me to the tree with his bloody hand around—
“Blood,” I choke, shaking my head. “There was so much blood.”
“Well, that was his blood. And unintended. But it certainly sold the illusion.”
The illusion.
What is happening.
“I…” I swallow. “I don’t—”
“Your little boyfriend and I have…an arrangement.” His eyes darken as he raises a hand and gingerly fingers his brow next to the bandage. “His recent uninvited visit notwithstanding,” he mutters.
“Arrangement,” I say flatly.
He smiles. “I think you’re familiar with the complicated relationship sons sometimes have with their fathers, yes?”
My mouth tightens.
“Our arrangement was mutually beneficial,” he shrugs. “Vaughn wanted control of the Knightsblood board. I wanted to assume a throne my father was never going to give me.”
“Why wouldn’t your father—”
“Because he was trying to kill me.” Andrés says crisply.
“Now, factor in that my father was responsible for the death of your boyfriend’s mentor, Stellan Lourde, and Vaughn and I came to an easy understanding.
He’d help me fake my own death to slip out from under my father’s all-seeing gaze and be free to put my own plans into action.
With me gone, he’d get his seat on the board.
And when the time came, I’d even let him pull the trigger on my father, for vengeance’s sake. ”
My mouth drops open. “But—I—he’s never told me any of—”
“No, I imagine he wouldn’t have,” Andrés says in a bored tone. “That was part of our arrangement, too. You see, we’d planned for him to come ‘murder’ me while I was with…” he winks lecherously at me. “Company.”
Bile rises in my throat as I remember his hands trying to shove their way under my skirt.
“The point was to have a witness to be able to testify to a masked man slaughtering me, which would lend weight to the whole thing and convince my father that it was real. But what I didn’t plan on,” he growls, “was you.”
His eyes narrow. “You, it would seem, were the reason for Vaughn’s…
above and beyond reaction that night. Cutting him with my knife wasn’t part of the plan, either.
But the voracity in which he came at me took me by surprise.
” He smirks at me. “But I now understand why seeing me in that position with you turned him into a beast.”
My head spins as it all hits me like a slap.
Andrés steps a little closer to the front of the stage, his brow furrows. “But you’re wondering why I’m here, talking to you now.”
I nod quietly, my heart thudding against my ribs.
“Well, Evelina, unfortunately, those original plans have changed. You see, as you might have heard, my father had a terrible accident.” He clucks his tongue and crosses himself. “Such a tragedy, to 'fall' off a yacht when 'intoxicated'.”
His cold smile tells me there as nothing accidental about what happened to Diego on that yacht.
“Which means it’s now time for me to return from the dead and claim what is mine.”
I swallow, gripping the pepper spray tighter. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because I now find myself with a small problem.” His eyes narrow at me.
“It’s come to my attention that my father had you running around looking for a bastard heir that I was never told about.
And as I prepare to assume his throne, well…
” He smiles viciously. “I would very much like to meet this half-brother.”
A chill ripples down my spine.
He doesn’t want a family reunion. He wants to ensure his claim to the Torvallés throne is uncontested.
He sighs. “I know you’ve worked hard to find my father’s bastard. But all this time, the answer was right in front of you.” He smirks. “Or I would imagine, frequently on top of you,” he grins viciously. “Vaughn knows who it is. He’s always known. And you’re going to ask him for me.”
I swallow thickly. “Why would I do that?” I breathe.
“Because I took his vengeance from him when I killed my father myself,” he growls. “Which I imagine will make him not so inclined to give me the name of this half-brother of mine. So you will be asking him.
Andrés slides his phone from his pocket.
“Oh, and if you don’t… They die.”
He taps the screen, bringing up a video.
And pure horror shatters me.
“NO!” I yell, dropping to my knees.
On screen, Roman and Val are tied to two chairs in a windowless room, gagged and struggling, bleeding heavily.
My eyes rip to his, my face caving. “Please!” I scream. “Let them go! Don’t hurt them!!”
Andrés chuckles to himself as he tucks the phone back in his pocket.
“I’d love nothing more than to send them on their way, Evelina.” He sighs, and I go still when he pulls a gun out from his jacket pocket. “But that’s going to depend on how convincing you can be.”
He sets the gun on the edge of the stage and shoves it skittering over until it bumps into my pointe shoes.
I quickly snatch up the gun in both hands and level it at him.
Andrés laughs quietly.
“You’re not going to shoot me.”
“The fuck I won’t!” I spit. “Let them go! Now!”
He grins widely. “Oh, Evelina.” He shakes his head. “So innocent. I mean you’re not going to shoot me because it’s not loaded.” He sighs. “Do I look stupid? The magazine is back there.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Seat 5H.”
Andrés gazes unblinkingly at me.
“Here’s what's going to happen, Evelina. I’m going to walk out of here.
When I’m gone, and only when I’m gone, you’re going to dance your way off that stage and get those bullets, and then you’re going to go see that boyfriend of yours—he’s still at his office—and you’re going to tell him to tell you who that fucking heir is,” he hisses.
“I would be very persuasive, unless you’d like to buy two fewer Christmas presents this year. ”
My world caves in on me.
“Find me that heir, Evelina. Or I’ll make you watch Roman and Val die. You have one hour.”