Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Nicolette
My toes ached as I balanced on one foot and extended my leg into a deep arabesque. Rehearsal for this new ballet was a killer, combining modern and classic choreography. My partner lifted me high into the air, before dipping me down into a deep bend.
From that position, I spotted a sheen on the floor only a foot away, and my stomach dropped. Shit! As my partner lifted me back to point, and spun me away, I gripped his hand tightly.
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.
Giovani was sexy, and every girl had wanted to date him. He’d been the most popular guy all through school and walked the halls with a confidence and predatory nature that made him king. Marko, his best and loyal friend, always had his back, not that Gio needed it, as being part of the Vitale family meant he was considered hands off. By proxy, so was Marko and anyone else that Gio deemed worthy of his protection. At one time I would have been included in that, but that was a long time ago.
My life didn’t truly begin until I was transferred out of the shithole school on the east side to West Ridge high. Not only was it academically superior to every other school in the district, but it boasted a fantastic performing arts program, which was where my dream of becoming a ballerina was ignited.
My father had gone to work for the Vitales and having me in a better location was an unexpected perk. The first day I showed up in my only pair of jeans, a tattered T-shirt, and my favorite jacket. Upon entering the prestigious building, I stuck to the shadows, hoping to avoid any conflict that could get me into trouble. My father had threatened me with doing well or else, and I fully intended on complying.
I was given a classroom list and arrived at homeroom seconds late. The teacher opened the door wide, and I stepped in. I felt all eyes on me and knew my discomfort showed in the pinkness of my warm cheeks.
In the back row were two gorgeous guys as different in looks as they could be. One was staggeringly beautiful, even sexy. Danger poured off him in waves and when the corner of his mouth tucked up into a smile, I thought I’d go up in flames from the amount of heat coursing through me.
His friend was handsome with a chiseled jawline; his hair was short and his eyes equally intense, but holding a completely different message. I imagined he smelled like vanilla cookies, for despite his size, he had a wholesome boy-next-door vibe. An image of his big hand gripping the nape of my neck threw me into an emotional tailspin.
The sexy one lifted his nose as if he could smell my excitement from the back of the classroom and the heat in my cheeks intensified. Almost in unison, they leaned back in their chairs, crossing their arms. Dominant to the core. Holy Hannah, they were hot!
The big one pulled the empty desk in front of them back, until it was between theirs. With gazes focused on me, they patted the seat in tandem.
My heart was pounding as my worst fear came to light—being noticed. Hadn’t I skittered along the walls through the school just to avoid trouble. My mouth felt like sandpaper when I tried to swallow. There had to be a mistake, or worse, a joke? I felt obliged to look and see if there was a mistake. Maybe a gorgeous girl stood behind me and that’s who they were eye-fucking.
“Miss Angelucci, I believe Mr. Vitale and Mr. Marino have a space in back for you.”
“Erm, yes, sir. Thank you.”
As I approached, the net closed around me, the two men ensnaring me in their orbit. There would be no escaping them, but who would want to? The sexual energy pulsed from them in waves and had me swooning from all the way across the room. I barely made it to the chair they had pulled out for me, before collapsing onto the hard plastic.
It was only then that my brain caught up to what the instructor had said. Mr. Vitale. Sandwiched between the giant and his way too good locking friend I tried to think of a way to escape my situation. I couldn’t be around the boss’s son. If things went south at school with him, then my father and I could get sent back to the hole we’d just climbed out of.
Not to mention the punishment he would dole out. A shudder moved through me. Perspiration trickled down my neck. And then strong fingers were gently massaging my nape.
“Breathe, tesorina.” A rich velvety voice spoke.
A shiver moved through me at the closeness of that voice to the shell of my ear. Little treasure? Did he have me confused with someone else?
I began muttering, “Hail Mary, full of grace.”
“Mary can’t save you, tesorina, only I can,” said the same sexy voice.
“The lord is with thee.”
“Yes. And we are his vessels,” said voice two.
I closed my eyes, absorbing the strength, power, and promise in the voice belonging to the larger of the two men.
His vessels. What did that mean? “Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb…” I swallowed thickly, realizing belatedly that I should have omitted that last part.
“I’ll bless your womb,” said voice number one.
“Forget the fruit and let’s discuss our meat filling your womb instead,” said voice two.
My nipples pebbled in response to their dirty words.
“Miss? We’ve arrived.”
Huh? Where was I? I blinked furiously, pulling myself from my trip down memory lane and looking out the window. Oh right, my apartment building… Home.
Was it though?
I wanted to tell myself to shut up but that would have definitely been misconstrued by the driver.
“Thank you.” I scanned my card across the machine he held in his hand and hurried out of the cab. I was lucky to be in an almost middle-class neighborhood and have an apartment all to myself. Sure, it was tiny, but it was mine. Because of my prestige with the company, my days of rooming in a single flat with three other dancers were long over. When I’d qualified to receive donor sponsorship money, it covered most of my housing costs and my transportation to and from rehearsal and performances.
I unlocked my door and knew instantly that something was wrong. I had highly developed senses and my nose told me that a man had been here. A wisp of sandalwood still hung in the air. Closing and locking the door, I raced back downstairs and outside.
On the sidewalk, I pulled my cell phone from my purse and called the police. They arrived quickly and after they’d gone through my flat, they called me up and showed me the dead roses and the note attached.
Shaking, I reached out and took the note from the table.
This is only the beginning. Next time I set a trap, not only won’t you see it coming, but you won’t survive it.
I felt faint and reached out a hand to steady myself.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Swan. We’ll have this place under surveillance and will catch this guy.” The officer called me by my stage name and had been mooning over me since his arrival.
I hadn’t eaten in hours and my blood sugar levels were plummeting. I needed food and a hot shower and time to think.
“Miss Swan, do you mind?”
The cop had his phone out and wanted to snap a selfie with me. I wanted to groan aloud. This had to be karma biting me on the ass.
“It’s for my wife. She’s a huge fan.”
Seriously? Hail Mary, full of grace.
Plastering on a smile, I answered, “of course” and leaned in toward the officer, whose shoulder I didn’t reach.
Snap!
“Thank you, Miss Swan. We’ll be in touch.” He handed me his card, and they left. The silence was deafening, and I became acutely aware of the clock in my bedroom ticking in time with the beating of my heart. The birds outside twittered happily, a contradiction to how I felt. They were blissfully unaware that someone had violated my home, my peace, and security, but I wasn’t.
Food be damned. Grabbing my phone, I punched in the number for the only person I felt may come to my rescue.