Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Paddy
I follow the hostess through the glitzy restaurant.
She isn’t shy about checking me out, but I ignore her.
I have two beauties with me this evening.
My aintín, with her long light strawberry-blond hair, and my sister, Ro.
I’m in the lead, with JJ taking up the rear.
Broderick didn’t allow Aintín Eireen to come with us. I had an extra ticket, just in case.
As we’re about to be seated, Morrigan moves past me to another table where Aleksei Belyaev and his wife, Lyric, are dining with another woman.
Lyric is JJ’s half sister and someone Morrigan counts as a daughter.
Alek lets his wife out of the booth, and she hugs Morrigan.
I walk over and hold out my hand to him.
“Belyaev.” He shakes my hand. “This is Roisin.” I introduce my sister. I don’t mention we’re related—he already knows. The less I spotlight that, the safer she should be. At least, that’s what I hope.
“This is Maddalena,” Alek says.
I recognize the name. It’s hard for her to deny that she’s related to Barone, but I don’t point it out. I nod and smile at her. She returns the smile, and I notice they’re all dressed as nicely as we are.
“We are headed to the ballet. How about you all?” Alek offers, and I nod.
“So are we. It’s a tradition, but this year Ro demanded we attend opening night.”
“It’s going to be amazing. My daughter is dancing tonight. Enjoy it,” Maddalena says to Ro.
We excuse ourselves and move back to our table, where we enjoy an amazing dinner.
I always forget how good the food is here, and the atmosphere too.
I’ve only been here a few times, but I’ve never had a bad meal, and I like trying the Russian dishes the restaurant is known for.
It’s nice that Andrei wanted to share his culture with Las Vegas and used his grandmother’s recipes and influence in the restaurant.
By the time we finish, I’m ready to relax and watch the ballet with my favorite girl. I’ve never wanted for a romantic relationship. The fact that I could lose someone I care about, like my father lost my mother, makes me shy away from them.
We arrive at the theater and settle into our seats. I watch the dancers onstage, then turn to Ro to see how entranced she is with the ballet. It doesn’t matter how many times I bring her, she loves it and never tires of coming. Maybe I should have allowed her to do dance growing up.
The music changes, and Ro slides forward in her seat.
I turn toward the stage as The Sugar Plum Fairy steps out.
I find myself lost in the dancer. The lights shine off the top of her hair, making her platinum blond hair glow.
She moves across the stage with power and grace.
Strong legs, perfect pointe work, every motion controlled and effortless.
When the Cavalier takes her in his arms and they dance together, an urge I’ve never felt before hits me in the chest. I want to rip his arms from his body and beat him with them.
I don’t like him touching her. She deserves to shine and dance without him.
The Fairy glides across the stage, telling her story, celebrating, and I’m finding myself lost in the music. As it crescendos, I’m on the edge of my seat, watching her body move, my body reacting to hers. She’s exquisite, and I want to meet her.
When her dance ends and the scene shifts, I slide back and open the playbill. I search for her name and freeze when I find it. It has to be a coincidence. Belyaev doesn’t have a sister. At least, I don’t think he does.
I wait frantically for her to come back on stage for the bows.
When she steps forward, the room explodes with applause, and I’m one of the many people on my feet for the standing ovation.
Whooping and hollering fill the theater as Maddalena, the woman who was at dinner with Belyaev, walks toward the stage and hands up a bouquet of flowers to the dancer.
She said her daughter was a dancer. Is it possible? I remember rumors my father mentioned, that Bogdan Belyaev was killed because he was involved with someone he shouldn’t have been.
“She was amazing,” Ro says with excitement in her voice.
I nod my head. “She was.” I pause, unable to find the right words to describe her. “Breathtaking,” is all I come up with, and it’s true. I feel like everything has shifted in my world.
We make our way backstage for the meet and greet.
I watch as Belyaev takes the Sugar Plum Fairy into his arms. Under the normal lighting, she’s even more stunning than she was on stage.
The group all hug her, but then, as if she’s drawn to me as much as I am to her, our eyes meet over the distance.
I want to storm across the room and demand she only dance for me.
That she be mine. This can’t be happening.
“She’s related to Belyaev?” JJ asks.
I know the answer without asking. It’s right there in front of me.
Her white-blond hair, like his. The striking ice-blue eyes that are still focused on me, the same shade as Belyaev’s.
I can’t stop myself from dragging my gaze up and down her body, memorizing everything I’ll never have.
I can’t and won’t do that to either of us.
“Yes, she’s his sister. Their father was murdered before she was born. It’s a real Romeo and Juliet story,” Aintín Morrigan supplies. “Lyric found her before she was kidnapped earlier this year. I haven’t gotten to meet her because she’s always busy, but Lyric says she’s a very sweet girl.”
“Can we go meet her?” Ro asks me, and I know I won’t be able to be close to her. My control is fraying the longer she stares at me. I break our eye contact first.
I pull out my phone and look at it, pretending I got a text. “Shoot, Ro. I have to run to the club.” I turn to JJ, hating that I’m going to lie to them all. “I need to go. Can you get the ladies home?”
“I’ll call in another car for us. You take Hayes,” he offers. “I’ll see you there as soon as I can.”
I’m about to tell him never mind, but then he’ll know something is up.
I turn away and walk toward the door but stop for one last look at the woman my body craves.
She’s squatted, talking to a small child.
Again, as if she knows I’m watching, she looks up at me.
This time she blushes, and I force myself to walk out so I don’t do anything we’ll both regret.
Her brother would kill me if he knew in the short time I looked at her, I fantasized about having her under me.
That I contemplated everything I would do to her body.
That I wonder if she’s really as untouched and virginal as she seems with her shy looks and smiles.
I wouldn’t blame him if he threatened me. If a man ever did that to Ro, I’d kill him without a second thought.
Daria
I watch as the tall, distinguished, dark-haired man leaves.
From the moment I saw him, I was drawn to him.
I couldn’t stop staring. It was as if my body demanded I focus on him and no one else.
He was so tall he stood head and shoulders over most of the people in the room. He’s even taller than Alek.
The women and the huge guy he was with make their way across the room toward me. I stand there, wanting to know why he fled instead of coming to meet me. I know he felt the attraction too. He was openly staring at me. I could feel his eyes like a caress against my skin.
“Hello, I’m Roisin MacEvoy,” the beautiful, auburn-haired girl says. She’s a bit younger than me and very petite, maybe five-one, while I’m more than five inches taller than her.
Her name hits me, and I realize who the man who just walked out is. The elusive Patrick “Paddy” MacEvoy, head of the Irish mob.
“Hello, Roisin.”
I don’t offer my real name because they like us to stay in character for the meet and greets. It avoids confusion. Other dancers besides me will be performing the Sugar Plum Fairy role throughout the run.
“What did you think of the ballet? Have you seen it before?” I ask her the standard questions when I really want to ask who the man was to her.
“We loved it. My brother and I couldn’t take our eyes off the stage watching you. I’ve come so many times, but you did such an amazing job.”
“Aww, thank you. You’re so sweet.”
Another child comes over and interrupts us, and I talk with them.
But I keep an open ear to the conversation beside me.
The man with Roisin is Lyric’s half-brother, JJ, and the woman is JJ’s mom.
Roisin is gushing over Lyric, asking if she can hang out with her the next time Morrigan goes to the house.
They disperse after a bit, and I’m standing there in full costume with the other dancers. I can’t wait to get out of this tutu and into something else.
“We’ll wait here while you change, then we can go get drinks if you’d like to celebrate,” my brother offers, and I smile at him.
“No can do. I have an opening-night celebration to attend, but have fun. I’ll see you all in the morning.” I turn to walk away, but my brother stops me.
“Be careful, Dar. Would you like me to get a driver for you?”
“I always am. Nope, we’re Ubering.” I chuckle and walk away.
I love that now that he doesn’t have a driver on me, I don’t have to worry about them reporting back to him what I’m doing.
An hour later, my hair hangs in loose waves around my shoulders after being up in a tight bun all night.
I’ve toned down my stage makeup, but all the body makeup is still on since I haven’t showered yet.
I’m in a white mini halter neck dress. My size B breasts let me get away with going without a bra.
Even though I’ve been in pointe shoes most of the day, I’ve strapped on a pair of red high heels that wrap around my ankles.
We all walk up to the bouncer with our passes and bypass the line. Our manager got everyone who wanted to go into the brand-new club to celebrate tonight, something about the club’s manager being related to someone in the corps de ballet.
Masha grabs my hand and drags me to the bar. She’s in a black mini bodycon dress that’s shorter than mine. She acts like we’re best friends now, and I don’t know where this came from.
As we wait for the bartender to come over, she starts looking around.
“I’m so excited to get into this club. I’ve heard the owner and manager are hot as fuck. Both are single. You can go for the manager, but I get the owner.” She chuckles, and in my mind’s eye, I see the man from earlier.
I know who owns this club. I’ve overheard my brother discussing it, and my job requires me to know all the hottest clubs and their owners. A flash of jealousy hits me, but I wonder if he walked out because he wasn’t as attracted to me as I am to him.
“You can have them both. I’m not interested.” I laugh it off and order a vodka.
I’m not going to let Mr. MacEvoy dictate my evening or worry over whether he liked me or not. He can just be a nighttime fantasy for a bit.
“Girl, you have to try Irish whiskey here. Or one of the house drinks.” Masha laughs as she orders a pink shot with a candy skewer.
I shoot the vodka, then turn toward the dance floor.
Other dancers from the company are already out there.
That’s what I need. I leave Masha at the bar while she grills the bartender about the owner and make my way to the floor.
I need to burn off the extra energy and adrenaline still buzzing through my system.
I dance with a group from the company, not giving any guy my time. I’m not interested.
I don’t know how long I’ve been out here, but when a server hands me a bottle of water, I drink almost half of it before walking over to our table and sitting down with the group. I can feel eyes on me and start scanning the crowd. There are so many people here, it could be anyone.
Another server walks up to me with a tray and a single shot glass.
“A drink for you.” She hands it to me.
I look down at it, then up at her. It’s the same drink Masha ordered earlier. I glance at Masha, but she shakes her head.
“I didn’t order this,” I say.
“It was ordered for you.”
“Um… okay. Tell them I said thank you. Or can you point them out so I can do it?”
“I don’t know who it’s from. It’s called a Pink Starburst.”
“Okay.”
I take a sip, and the flavors of vodka and strawberry burst across my tongue. I have to admit, it does taste like a pink Starburst. I slip the skewer between my lips and suck the candy off the stick, then chew and swallow before finishing the drink.
We head back onto the dance floor, and a man approaches me. I wonder if he’s the one who bought me the drink.
“Hello, ma’am. I’ve been asked to retrieve you.” He sounds so formal I can’t stop the laugh that slips out.
“Sorry. I appreciate the drink, but I don’t go anywhere with strangers.” I continue to chuckle and dance.
He leans into me again.
“My boss would like to speak with you. Please come with me.”
I look down at his hand on my arm, then back up at him with a raised brow.
“Don’t make me embarrass you in front of everyone when I drop you on your ass.
Tell your boss”—I use air quotes, convinced he’s the one who sent the drink but too shy to admit it—“I’m not interested.
If he wants to talk to me, he can come do it himself.
Tell him to nut up. I like a man with balls. ”
He immediately drops his hand from my elbow, but I catch a smirk on his face as he turns away. Masha and the other girls around me burst out laughing.