Chapter 10
Mila
His spine pulls taut giving him an advantage he didn ’ t need over my small frame. A shiver runs down my spine as his shadow blankets me. But something else happens. A surge of excitement pulses between my thighs when he steps closers.
Why do I want him to take another step, then push further?
Because you're a fool who is attracted to tragedies; this isn ’ t a ballet performance. This is my real life. I need prince charming, not his evil step brother.
“ What ’ s your last name?” Dash questions, his voice dripping with authority that makes my skin ripple. The sunlight is so strong that it reflects off his white-blonde hair, making me feel like the edge of a sword is coming down on my neck.
I swallow, forcing it down. “ Michelson.”
Unlike Dash, who is a King, I ’ m not as proud to flaunt my name around. I don ’ t want to use my father ’ s power to gain my own. I ’ m probably the only person here who thinks like this.
Dash closes his eyes, a smug grin spreading across his face. He snortssoftly,as if something amusing just clicked in his mind. “ Of course,” he mutters to himself. His eyes open, piercing into mine as he leans in slightly. “ You ’ re the perfect choice,” he whispers, his voice is so low that I almost miss it. The words hang in the air, sending a shiver to the tips of my fingers.
He blinks out of his daze. “ Your father works for my dad.”
“ Well,” I exhale a snort, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow, “ technically my dad works for all the parents here, so don ’ t feel special, Dash.”
A knowing smirk playing on his lips. “ That ’ s how you survived so long. You ’ re Michelson ’ s daughter. He ’ s not a strong man, but his army is…” He levels me with a look that makes my spinestraighten,as if he ’ s evaluating me, not my father.
I ’ m not strong. However, now I have a King as my soldier. Dash said it himself, we ’ re working together. Maybe I am like my father in that regard, weak but smart enough to build a good defense.
I nod. “ Power comes in many forms. Money, blackmail, a business. My dad negotiates; he ’ s able to make two people who loathe each other agree. That ’ s power.” I reply. Compared to the other parents here, my dad isn ’ t so evil; he ’ s just tasked with the job of enforcing it.He doesn ’ t have to committhecrimes,just make sure every detail adheres to the contracts.Rules apply to everyone, even the wealthy and criminals.The rulesare,ifyou sign a contract with Michelson Law, it ’ s enforced.If you try to break it, then everyone who has done business with my father has to send help to hunt you down.
Everyone.
It gives credibility to thecontracts,makespowerful men trust others who are trying to stab them in the back.
Dash ’ s eyes rake over me, hot and fast, like candle wax dripping off the sides of a heated flame, then slow and deliberate, as if the wax begins to cool and solidify. “ You know what ’ s interesting about foxes, Mila?” he asks, pausing just long enough for me to consider running.
Did I anger him? Possibly.
Did I make him reconsider me? Yes. I ’ m not just a ballerina; I ’ m a girl who he got to glimpse inside of.
No one else has.
No one has dared to peer through my cracks because they don ’ t see them. Dash did. That makes him dangerous…but it also makes him someone of interest to me.
“ They are cute and fluffy,” My joke falls like glass onto cement.
Who the hell am I? Where is this voice of mine coming from, and why can ’ t it stop speaking to him?
Being in the presence of a King has rubbed off on me.
His lip twitches as his blue eyes slowly slide down my cheek like a droplet of melting ice. Then, they fall onto my lips, forcing me to swallow.
“ They change,” his voice grows colder than his flirtatious expression, “ their colors.”
He leans back into his crutch like he ’ s posing for an Instagram picture. “ They change with the season. Their coats are not loyal.”
In a swift move, he wraps his arms around me, grabbing my lower back, pinning my hips against his. I gasp, then freeze.
Beat heart, start beating before you die!
Thump! Thump!
A cold sweat beads on my brow.
What ’ s he going to do? It always seems to be the question first on my tongue. Kiss me? Kill me? Laugh and tell me this is just a twisted game? Set me free?
I ’ m playing with fire! I need to stop.
But it feels so warm.
It feels.
And I ’ ve been numb for so long.
Why is my weight pressing onto the tips of my toes so I can be closer to him? Damn, my ballerina reactions because my toes start to push up as if in a pointe shoe…if only to reach his lips again.
Sanity? Well, it comes rushing back. I brace both my hands on his chest and shove myself away.
He raises a brow as he maintains balance on his crutch.
“ You better not change colors on me, Mila. You might be a Michelson, but your daddy can be replaced.” He warns.
“ So can yours.”
Oh. My. God.
I slap my hand over my mouth. “ I didn ’ t mean to say that. I ’ m starting to think you have a disease that ’ s affecting me. Word vomit.” I shake my head, trying to clear the embarrassment.
Inhale, swallow, paste on a fake smile, and reset.
“ I ’ m loyal to you. We made a deal. I am a Michelson after all. I have to live and die by my deals.”
My fake smile fades like a popsicle on a hot summer ’ s day. The look he levels me makes me feel like the chewed-up wooden stick. Like he ’ s licked away every ounce of me, leaving just bare bones.
“ I get it,” Dash says. His words surprise me. “ Sometimesthe most interesting conversation you can have is with yourself.”
I shake my head, feeling the tension my high bun is causing. Great, just add a headache into the mix, Life! “I don ’ t understand.”
“ Yes, you do. You just won ’ t admit it yet. You and me? We ’ re alike. Broken, pieced back together. We just used different materials to assemble ourselves again. My choice was stronger, little fox. You ’ re slowly crumbling, thus your need for freedom. Just remember, Mila, being free won ’ t piece you back together.”
His eyes relish my shock, my acceptance of his words.
“ What will?” I whisper. Of course, the devil hears.
“ It ’ s usually the thing you fear most,” he replies. He watches his words hit me, sink into me like sinking sand I can ’ t escape from. I don ’ t fight it; that would make the shock swallow me faster.
He begins to walk confidently across the manicured lawn of our privateschool,as if he ’ s the tour guide and not me. I can see students glancing our way, curiosity piqued, but their eyes quickly divert, not wanting to draw too much attention.
Turning, I rush to catch up to him. “ If we are going to work together—”
He swings his crutch out, almost tripping me. I stumble, having to hop like a fox, avoiding a snare, trying to maintain my balance. “ Not if, Mila. We made a deal.”
“ I... I didn ’ t mean—”
“ Yes, you did. You tried to threaten me. Ill-advised. Consider my mood more lenient than most days. Don ’ t test me anymore.”
Even with his broken leg, I struggle to keep pace with him, my steps quicken to match his. “ I need you to stop speaking to me like that,” I hiss, whispering fiercely, making sure my voice reaches his ears while keeping my chin tipped up defiantly.
“ Why?” He begins to smirk, his pace slowing just enough for me to catch up, but he doesn ’ t stop moving forward.
I halt abruptly, forcing him to glance back over his shoulder. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the world seems to pause around us. “ Because the truth is too hard to hear,” I say, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.
He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by my defiance, but there ’ s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—respect, maybe.
“ Finally,” he exhales. “ You ’ re being honest. I said I need you as a friend, Mila. Friends have to be honest.”
Lord help me. I don ’ t know if I can do this, play mind games with a King.
I have no choice now, though. “ So, are you going to be honest with me?” I step up to him.
“ You don ’ t need me as your friend, Mila,” he replies. He ’ s speaking differently now—not ruthless, not cruel.
“ What do I need you as?” I dare to question.
“ Your fire.”