Chapter 24
Anastasia
A story of passion, symbolizing love’s triumph over evil and fate.
How appropriate at this point in my life.
Was fate playing a horrible joke on me?
My partner spun around me, taking a few seconds to grab a sip of water. We’d been in rehearsal for a couple of hours, mostly warming our muscles and driving away the kinks.
I remained a nervous wreck.
Concentrate. You’re a professional.
As one of my favorite points of the music moved to a crescendo, I took a deep breath and moved in time to the chorus, beat after beat. Step after step.
Grand jeté.
Pirouette.
Assemblé.
Plié.
I needed continuous practice because my mind was everywhere but where it should be.
On the ballet.
Sleeping Beauty, which suddenly seemed an oppressive dance. I was terrified I’d never wake up. And the clock was ticking.
Something was off. I could feel it in my blood.
“Relax,” my partner told me. He offered a smile, which was a rarity amongst the dancers in the group. I’d yet to make friends. How could I when I’d spent all my free time with one… sexy man? An image of his face popped into my mind and I shuddered to my core.
“I’m trying.” I grabbed a towel, wiping my face and shifted my thoughts to Jaxon and his promise of being here.
I was excited, more so than I’d thought I’d be. While we still didn’t know each other, at least not really, I felt closer to him than I had to anyone in my life.
Protected.
That’s the way all good mafia princesses were supposed to feel. Right? As if no one could ever hurt me. I should have innate knowledge that anyone who dared try would never see the light of day again.
Mafia soldiers were not known for being reflective of their crimes. They had no guilt, no concept of remorse. That’s what made them such excellent assassins. I had no doubt the two huge men assigned to keep me from harm’s way would do whatever was necessary to keep a bullet from entering my brain.
That didn’t provide me with any comfort.
I wrung my hands as I paced the stage, the lights from above preventing me from seeing the empty theater, but I sensed people watching.
Just like the night of the performance in New York.
Bad people.
Since I’d stepped foot in the massive room and even before taking my first dance step, I’d gathered a sense of being watched. Not just by the two soldiers protecting me either.
My curiosity as to if I was correct was so strong I dropped to the floor, pretending to fix my toe shoe, and squinted. The level shielded some of the light but couldn’t prevent the ominous shadows blanketing the expansive theater.
Maybe my senses were wacked, incapable of providing me with a sense of warning as I’d been taught.
My father had told me to follow my instincts and when the little voice inside my head told me to run or hide, that I shouldn’t hesitate.
I could swear I heard his voice inside my head now.
He wasn’t sending me well wishes on my performance of the night either.
He was warning me.
My goodness. After everything Jaxon had said to me as well as the tone of his voice, I’d become paranoid. My thoughts were silly. With two big strapping men carrying weapons, I certainly had nothing to fear.
Still, I sensed something was off, Jaxon’s increased tension when we’d parted earlier sticking in the forefront of my mind.
The sound of clapping hands dragged me from the moment of fear.
“Alright, everyone. Time to get dressed,” Irina shouted. “But first, a little pep talk.”
Exhaling, I thought about Jaxon. He’d yet to call and I hadn’t seen him. Not only was I anxious, I missed him.
His touch.
His stern looks.
His whispered dominance.
His lips pressed against mine.
I enjoyed a heated shudder while I rushed toward the circle of dancers,
While the last three days had been a whirlwind, the night and morning spent with him had been grounding.
“This is a very special night,” Irina continued, but the sense of being watched continued. Enough so, I was barely paying any attention to what Irina was saying.
A noise captured my attention and I jumped enough I caught Irina’s scorned look.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Time to prepare. As I just said, tonight is very special. We are sold out. Enjoy and remember the art is the key. Pay attention to the music cues and allow the magic to win the night.”
I started to walk away, but Irina stopped me.
“Irina.”
She glanced over her shoulder, waiting until the others had walked away. “You seem distracted, Anna. Is there something wrong?”
“Nothing really. Just a little nervous.”
Irina Novikov wasn’t known for her kind demeanor, at least to her dancers. She was hard as a rock both in body and soul. That’s why when she eased my braid from my shoulder, I stiffened.
“I was very happy to bring you here, Anna. I want you to know that.”
Everything Jaxon had said tickled the back of my mind.
“Thank you. I’m glad to be here. I believed the New Orleans Ballet wasn’t hiring. That’s why I was so excited when you called.”
“There are always exceptions for important dancers. You are very special. Very special indeed.” The faraway look in her eyes not only surprised me but managed to create another wave of anxiety.
“If only my father could be here to see me.”
Her smile slowly faded. “I’m certain he’s watching over you from heaven above.”
What?
Fear swept through me. Had something happened to my father?
“Ms. Novikov. We have an issue with the lighting.” The stage manager appeared before I had a chance to ask her any questions.
“Of course, Justin. I’ll be right there.”
Maybe she’d just heard the story about my ‘family’ and that I was an orphan. Yet as she walked away, my stomach did a series of flip-flops. My father’s warning about following my instincts kicked in and I rushed backstage, pushing my way through the dancers while heading to my dressing room.
I rushed toward my phone, hopeful that I’d received two calls.
From Jaxon and Sophia.
No one had called.
Something was wrong. There had to be.
Breathe. Just breathe.
“Don’t panic. Irina doesn’t know you.” Saying the words out loud normally made me feel better. Why was it that this time they didn’t?
Because of the way Irina had looked at me. Not as if she was sharing a motherly piece of advice or even showing an empathetic side I’d yet to see. As if she knew me. As if she’d partaken in keeping me out of harm’s way.
That was ridiculous.
I debated calling Jaxon but knew how he’d react.
His last words had been very clear. Trust him.
How could I trust another mafia man when I’d left that world behind?
I needed to trust someone. But first, I had to calm my nerves.
One call to my father. I just needed to hear his voice. Then I’d be fine.
Once the cellphone was in my hand, I brought it to my head for a few seconds before dialing the number.
Which went straight to voicemail. His phone was off.
At least the sound of his voice brought some sense of peace.
“Papa. I was worried when I didn’t hear from you.
We need to talk. There’s something wrong.
Please call me. I have a performance tonight.
I wish you were here to see me dance and just remember I… ”
Blip. The call ended.
“Love you.” Exhaling, I sat down on the stool, staring at myself in the mirror. I needed to get dressed and put on makeup. My stomach remained in knots, every muscle tense.
I was a big girl. With everything Jaxon had told me, I’d just placed myself under duress. The knock on the door meant my time alone was up. When the door was flung open before I had a chance to invite them in, I had a momentary bout of fear that paralyzed me for a few seconds.
“Anna. Take off your leotard. We have little time,” the costume mistress barked as members of the wardrobe crew flew in.
In the next few minutes, I was primped and prepared, including the seamstress needing to make a few adjustments on the first costume. Others lined up the ones I’d change into throughout the performance with their assistance.
My hair was in a bun, sprayed to holy hell so not a strand would fall free. My makeup was caked on, my lips stained red.
Like blood.
I was fighting one too many emotions, my stomach aching.
“Did you hear about the huge explosion?” one of the girls mentioned to another. My ears perked up.
“You mean on the interstate. God, yes,” the other girl responded.
“What are you talking about?” I piped in.
“It was some military style bomb. My brother was near and he said it looked like a rocket launcher hit a big SUV,” the first girl said. “The traffic is snarled. I hope that doesn’t interfere with tonight.”
“Maybe a mafia hit,” the second girl laughed.
Their laughter was drowned out by the buzzing in my head. Jaxon. What were the chances? No, he was okay. He was a powerful man.
Just like your father.
The panic I’d felt earlier was nearly paralyzing.
“There you go. You look beautiful,” one of the girls said, although I had no idea which one.
“Thank you.”
I didn’t recognize myself any longer, but maybe that was what I needed. To pretend to be someone I wasn’t.
All while the work was being done, my thoughts drifted back and forth from Jaxon to my father, with constant glances toward my phone.
“How does that feel?” the costume mistress asked.
“Fine. Good. Okay.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Move for me. I want to ensure you don’t split a seam.”
I did as I was told, almost doubling over from the number of butterflies swarming my stomach.
Her nod to the others was a final approval. “Don’t sit down,” she instructed.
“Okay. I won’t.”
When she left, another wave of loneliness kicked in. I needed a friendly voice. I hated how much I was shaking, needing Jaxon more than anything at this point. When I dialed his number, I tried to smile but failed. Maybe I was hoping I could somehow disguise the terror I felt.
Again there was nothing but dead air. Or maybe there was a beep and I’d been too absorbed in my own thoughts.
“Jaxon. It’s me. Your lost angel. We’re about to go on stage.
I just… Well, I just wanted to hear your voice.
I hope you’re still coming tonight. I admit I’d love to see you.
Um. I heard there was some explosion and…
Well, I was worried. Just let me know you’re okay. ”
What the hell had I even said?
He had told me that I was his for the time being. Right? He wouldn’t disappoint me and I doubted anyone could get to him. Not with the number of soldiers he had.
Although he’d been going to find out from Carmine Russo what was going on.
Russo. I remembered the name. My father had experienced more than one issue with the family.
“You can’t do this to yourself.” I made a face in the mirror. The show had to go on.
I tossed my phone, trying to laugh off the fact I couldn’t get in touch with him.
Another knock and one of the stage managers stuck his head in. “Five minutes.”
“I’ll be ready.” I plastered on a smile, shoring my shoulders as I’d been trained to do.
Trained.
My father’s words about being called home slithered into my mind. I had to push everything else aside but the dance.
I closed my eyes, doing my breathing exercises as I tried to put myself into the zone. Finally, I could hear the music in my head.
The ring from my phone was jarring. I was certain my handsome captor was returning my call. I snatched the phone without looking.
“Hello?”
“Miss Scavullo. It’s Sophia. It’s so good to hear your voice. So very good.”
A beep on my phone indicated another call.
My eyes snapped open. She sounded nervous. “Sophia. You called me back. Oh, my God. Are you okay? How’s my father? Is there something going on I should know about?”
When she let out a sob, I fell against the table. “Your brother. He… He…”
“Sophia. Calm down. What about my brother? What about Marco?”
As she tried to put the words together, alternating between English and Italian, I slowly fell onto the stool, dropping my head into my hand.
Another knock.
“Ms. Scavo. We’re ready for you.”
Just as the tears began to fall.