Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
TATIANA
I t’s already been an emotional day. Once I left Rodion’s office, I had to explain to Nadia what the hell was going on, even though I don’t know myself. If I say the wrong thing, it will be leaked to the press and I wish I had been briefed on what to say.
During rehearsals, the other dancers kept their distance. The distaste on their faces was confusing.
I haven’t a clue what I’ve done.
It’s as if I am no longer welcome here. I sense their animosity. Their hatred even and I’m unsure why.
Leo is particularly angry. He is rough on the holds and clumsy on the lifts. It’s as if I’m the enemy and it hurts.
I have always tried to get along with everyone here, but many consider me the untouchable. I’m not invited out to drinks after work. Parties in their rooms when we’re overseas. I’m not privy to the gossip, possibly because I am the gossip and today only highlights that.
They are whispering in corners, throwing furtive glances in my direction, and giggling at my expense. It certainly feels like that and by the time the performance comes around, I’m a nervous wreck.
In his pre-performance speech, Rodion told us there were many more photographers tonight. His accusing glare in my direction was akin to pointing the finger directly at me.
The atmosphere is tense, angry and frosty and my heart sinks when I realize it’s unlikely to get any better.
“Tatiana!” Rodion bellows in my direction and I jump, wondering what his problem is now.
“Take that fucking ring off. Juliet doesn’t wear diamonds that cost more than most people earn in a lifetime.”
I stare at him with a guilty expression and whisper, “Okay.”
He turns away and I detect the sneers on the faces of my fellow dancers, making the ring extremely heavy on my finger. It’s as if they are disgusted with me. As if I have sold myself to the highest bidder because they will be aware that Titus is a stranger to me. That we have never dated, and he has not been present in my life, so they have come to the correct conclusion that this engagement is a complete sham.
I head to my dressing room and wonder where I can hide the ring to keep it safe. It panics me to contemplate losing it and as I push through the door, Nadia is waiting to help me into my costume.
“What’s the matter?” She says anxiously, obviously sensing my mood and I huff, “The ring. I can’t wear it for the performance.”
“I thought that would happen.”
She shrugs. “I’ll wear it. It’s probably the only time I’ll have the chance to admire such a beauty on my finger—ever.”
The sadness in her eyes always haunts me because Nadia has, to my knowledge, never been in love.
“I thought that too, but it changed in twenty-four hours. That could happen to you.”
I aim to give her hope and she smiles. “Thanks, Tia. You’re a good friend.”
I slip the ring from my finger and hand it to her with a grateful smile.
“Where would I be without you?”
The sad expression on her face causes me to ask, “What’s wrong?”
“You don’t know?” She shakes her head and sighs deeply. “Your engagement has ended your career, which means I will no longer have the pleasure of assisting you.”
“No!” I attempt to reassure her, but her smile is weak. “It’s okay, I understand. You may last a few more weeks, months even, or this could be your last performance. We both understand how it works in Russia. The State decides your life while giving you the impression you have choices. You do not.”
“I’ll fight for my right to dance.” I hiss, because if I’m sure of anything, it’s that.
“It may not be your decision, Tia. Rodion will receive pressure to replace you and you know that would happen because he prides himself on preserving the dignity of the Bolshoi and we are expendable in his eyes.”
I think back to my meeting with him earlier and a faint stirring of what could be classed as fondness washes over me. He was so kind to me back there. Holding me, murmuring that everything would be okay. Right then he wasn’t the feared director of the Bolshoi. He was the closest thing to a father I can remember.
A loud knock on the door gives me five minutes, and as I slip the ring onto Nadia’s finger, she wastes no time in slipping the costume over my head.
We don’t have time to dwell on present circumstances now because the show must go on and if this is to be my final performance, I must make it the best one of my life.
When the curtain rises, my private life fades into the background as the music takes over my soul.
As I connect with the haunting melodies, the world ceases to exist as I immerse myself in the story. Every rehearsal counts as my body reacts to the practiced moves, delivering them with beauty and grace rather than the arduous journey of getting here.
I am the music. I become it. My feet dance over the notes and react to the tempo. I am light, featherlike and at peace with the world. Nothing can touch me on the stage because here I am queen. I am admired, envied and celebrated as all the years of pain and bullying count for something amazing.
As I glide across the stage, the spotlight finds me, warming my skin and distracting me from the physicality of my movements. The audience is unaware how hard it is to look this light and effortless. It takes many years of sacrifice to reach this point and now, at the pinnacle of my career, they want to take it away from me.
But now I give myself wholly to the magic of ballet. I am not an ordinary girl. I am majestic, ethereal and untouchable.
There is poetry in the magic of dance and nobody can touch me here. Here I am queen and I have no king. I am dance and if this is the last time it holds me in its magic spell, I thank God that at least I’m here now.
It’s over.
The final curtain falls and I’m left with a massive withdrawal from the natural high dancing gives me. The spotlight fades, leaving the harsh light of reality shining on my inadequacies. The other dancers head off in their groups, leaving me to walk the solitary path to my dressing room to receive the line of well-wishers who only want a photograph to post on their social media accounts; pretending they are important enough to be seen with me at all.
It’s not me they are interested in, just what I am and I accepted that a long time ago.
My attention turns to my fiancé and my heart sinks. It is the same for him. I am an accessory, unimportant in his life, except for one thing. His own agenda. Whatever that is, I couldn’t care less because, for some reason, I feel safer with him right now than without him.
I steel myself for the flowers when I walk through the door and it’s as if they hit me hard in the gut as they take pride of place on my dressing table.
“Your admirer doesn’t give up.” Nadia smiles, and I return it briefly. She thinks this is romantic. The unknown Prince, charming the princess. She often wonders who it could be and has a dreamy expression on her face when she tries to work it out. I don’t. It’s as if the devil has come to the party and his intention is clear.
He wants my soul.
Well, he won’t have it.
“Nadia.” I take a deep breath as she stares at me with concern.
“Please can you dispose of the flowers and make sure if they are ever delivered again, they find the bin instead?”
“But–”
Her eyes widen and I hide behind the truth. “I am engaged and my fiancé will not appreciate an admirer, especially one whose gifts will grace every photograph taken in this room.”
“I understand.” She smiles sadly. “Of course.”
As she leaves, the visitors start coming and there is no time to think about the flowers, or who sent them.
One hour later and the last person leaves and Nadia sighs. “That was particularly arduous tonight.”
I nod, groaning as I slip off my ballet shoes.
“Listen, it’s been a long night. Why don’t you head home? I can finish up here and could really use a moment alone.”
“If you’re sure.” Nadia’s eyes are full of concern.
“I can be quiet. I just feel bad about leaving you.”
“Don’t.” I force a smile on my face. “I’ll be okay. Good night, Nadia. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Let’s hope.” She nods, a sad expression in her eye and as she leaves, the door closing softly behind her, I turn to the mirror and stare at the sad image reflected back at me.
I don’t know who I am anymore. If what Nadia says is true, I not only lose my right to dance, but I lose myself too. How can they take that away from me? How can I allow it because if I can’t dance, I have no purpose in life? I will be lost.
A movement causes me to glance in the mirror and I notice the door opening.
As I turn, I see Leo slipping inside, closing it behind him.
“What do you want, Leo?”
My voice is weary. I’m tired and could really do without his shit tonight.
“I want what you owe me, Tatiana.”
“Owe you?”
I’m confused and I don’t like the gleam in his eye that causes my heart to beat a little faster.
“What I owe you? I don’t understand.”
He moves closer and I detect the trace of alcohol on his breath and from the glazed expression in his eye, I’m guessing that’s not the only narcotic in his blood stream. It’s well known some dancers use drugs to keep their weight down and get them through the shit this life throws at us, but I never thought Leo was one of them.
“Just leave, Leo. I don’t have time for this.”
I’m forceful because I don’t like the way he is staring at me and I wish I had changed already because the costume is a mere wisp of fabric held together lightly.
“I don’t buy your engagement.”
“I don’t care.” I inject some venom into my voice and hiss, “Leave before I call Rodion.”
“He’s left already.” He laughs, and it chills my blood. “They’ve all left except me and you.”
I swallow hard, wondering how I’m going to push past him because, despite his slender frame, Leo is very strong. Most of the male dancers are because they require great strength to hold the female dancers high above their heads.
“We have unfinished business, Tatiana.”
“We have no business.”
I stand and attempt to push past him and he reaches out and grasps my arm and slams me hard against the wall.
His hand shoots around my neck and he pushes my head up and against the wall and sneers, “You’ve been flirting with me for months, giving me mixed signals as you stare longingly into my eyes. Then cutting me dead with a withering glance when the curtain falls.”
“I was acting, you dumb shit.” I gasp as the pressure increases around my throat and he growls, “You were not. You were teasing me and all the time you were planning on giving it to another. Someone with better prospects. Someone like Titus Romanov, the darling of the Russian State. You’re a whore, Tatiana, and whores get fucked.”
He reaches under my skirt and tears down my panties, holding me captive against the wall as he forces my legs apart.
“No, Leo, don’t do this.” I whimper as he fumbles with his pants and releases his hard cock.
“Do what, Tatiana? Take what’s mine; what you owe me.”
“I owe you nothing.”
My scream gurgles in my throat as he crushes my windpipe and as he pushes my skirt above my waist, I attempt to struggle, receiving a hard slap around my face for my trouble.
My face throbs as the white light blinds me and he presses against me, his intentions painfully clear.
Suddenly, the door crashes open and two men I don’t recognize tear him away from me, dragging him outside as another man heads inside the small room and the concern on his face tells me he means me no harm.
“Did he hurt you?” He says softly as he grasps my arm gently, helping me into my seat, my legs shaking uncontrollably.
“A little.” I gasp, blinded by my tears, and he crouches down before me and says softly, “I work for Titus Romanov. My name is Simeon. He requests your presence.”
“Now?”
I shake my head as if to place some sense into it and he nods, pulling my coat down from the hook on the wall and wrapping it around my shivering shoulders.
“Come, you will be safe with us.”
He helps me to my feet and I don’t even spare a thought for Leo and what is happening to him now as I lean on Simeon’s arm and he helps me from the room.