Chapter Nine
Aurora
“Again from the top,” the director says.
I move back into position. My calves ache, and my toes are screaming inside my pointe shoes, but I continue anyway.
Maya catches my eye through the mirror, giving me a small nod. She starts counting under her breath.
“One… two… three…”
I lift into relevé, arms rising to fifth. But I’m not as focused as I should be—too caught up in my own head—and I end up falling. A sharp, dry pop cuts through the violins. Pain flashes up my leg, and my face burns with embarrassment.
“Stop the music!” the director yells.
I bite down on my lip to stop the scream that wants out. My foot throbs, each pulse worse than the last.
Maya is already kneeling beside me. “Don’t move. You twisted it bad.”
“It’s fine,” I rush to say. “Just—give me a second.”
She pulls off my pointe shoe, and I nearly black out. The skin around my ankle is already swelling, faint pink spreading fast. Maya rushes to get me an ice pack, and I thank her with a whimper.
The director makes a call, and a minute later, Lucian comes down from his office. His eyes are wild, like he ran the whole way here.
He looks from me to the director to Maya. “What happened?”
“She fell,” the director stammers.
Lucian crouches beside me, his hands hovering near my leg before he touches it gently.
“You should’ve been the one to call me,” he grumbles.
“I didn’t realize I needed to report every stumble to you,” I whisper.
“When it’s your body, yes.”
He lifts me with one arm behind my back, the other under my knees.
“Lucian, put me down!”
“No.”
I bury my face against his shoulder because I can’t stand the way the staff and the other dancers look at me.
He doesn’t stop until we’re outside, where his car waits. The driver opens the door, and Lucian slides in with me still in his arms.
“You’re overreacting,” I sigh.
“You really don’t get it—how obsessed I am with you,” he shoots back.
At the hospital, he never leaves my side. Every time someone tries to speak to me, Lucian answers first. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I’ve always been independent—I needed to be to survive. I was never fussed over or spoiled like other kids. My aunt did her best to raise me and keep us afloat, and I’m grateful for her more than words can describe. But I guess a small, hidden part of me always wanted to experience being pampered.
When the doctor looks over the X-rays, he says, “It’s just a sprain, but she should rest for at least a week.” Lucian’s jaw tightens like he’s memorizing the command.
I reach for my bag. “You can drop me off at my apartment.”
His head snaps toward me. “No.”
“Lucian—”
“I’m not leaving you alone.”
“The contract says two days a week,” I say, but the moment it comes out of my mouth, I know it was the wrong thing to say.
He trembles in rage. “You think any of this has to do with that damn contract?”
This thing between us—it’s becoming something neither of us can control. The lines are blurring, and that’s dangerous. It’s starting to feel like love.
___
The car takes a different turn than the one to my apartment. The city fades behind us. My stomach knots when I realize we’re going to his villa.
“Lucian,” I warn.
He doesn’t respond.
When we pull into the long drive, he’s out of the car before I can protest, opening my door and scooping me into his arms again.
“I can walk.”
“You’re not walking on that foot,” he says.
He carries me straight to his bedroom—the same one I swore I’d never step inside. He sets me down on the bed like I might break. I don’t move. I can feel his scent on the sheets, the warmth of his hands still on me.
He disappears into the bathroom, comes back with a towel and ice. He rolls up his sleeves, the veins in his forearms standing out as he wraps the cold compress around my ankle.
“You’re acting like this is more than a contract,” I say.
He doesn’t look at me or answer, and when he finally does, there’s something in his eyes that I know will ruin me.
“Contracts don’t make me feel the way you do,” he admits.
And for the first time, I can’t tell if I’m the one who’s trapped—or if he is. But I know one thing for sure—I'm falling in love with the devil.