8. Chapter Eight #3
“You’re not getting Nikolai so drop it.” I walk past her to the living room but she hurries after and grabs my wrist, holding it up high. I can’t help but wince. The people around us glance over… including my parents.
“I noticed this,” she says, shoving my sleeve down to expose my bandaged wrist. “Did you try killing yourself? You should have finished the job.”
I look around the room and make eye contact with my mother. She looks between my face and my wrist before frowning. I rip my arm away from Svetlana. “Leave me alone. This is none of your business.”
“I think it’s everyone’s business,” she announces in a loud voice, drawing more attention. Nikolai and Lev come over. Lev looks way too eager while the darkness in Nikolai is growing like a storm cloud.
“Svetlana,” he warns.
“Why does your wife have a bandage on her wrist? Did she try to hurt herself? Or did you hurt her?”
“What is the meaning of this?” Father asks, storming over. “Did you hurt my daughter?”
I can’t believe my father would actually care if I’m hurt or not. He cares more about his reputation than me. This outrage is just for him to save face.
“I did not hurt your daughter,” Nikolai says in a low voice.
“So then how come she has a bandage on her wrist?” Svetlana asks, smiling way too smugly.
I hate this bitch and all the bitches like her. I have had enough.
Without hesitating, I grab a glass of champagne from the nearby table and throw it right into Svetlana’s face. She gasps while the entire room goes silent. Her black mascara runs down her face.
“Do not humiliate me,” I warn.
“Lana,” Nikolai snaps, looking at me… with disappointment. I was just trying to stand up for myself and yet, he’s judging me?
Svetlana pushes her wet hair out of her face. “You bitch.”
“Svetlana, leave,” Nikolai says. “Now. You promised to not cause any problems. You broke that promise. So go.”
“She’s the one who threw champagne in my face!”
“Leave.” Nikolai’s tone speaks to no disagreements.
“You’re really choosing her over me?” Svetlana’s voice sounds utterly pathetic. It makes me smile.
“She is my wife. You are not and never have been. Go.”
With a scoff and a glare in my direction, Svetlana storms out of the house.
And then my father speaks. “What is going on here? Why does my daughter have a bandage on her wrist?”
Nikolai doesn’t say a word and my father’s expression turns darker and darker. I have to salvage this.
“I was making dinner,” I lie. “And I accidently cut myself. It was all an accident. I swear. No one hurt me and I didn’t mean to hurt myself. It was just an accident.”
Most of the guests relax at that, taking me at my word. But I can tell my father doesn’t quite believe me. He’s always struggled to take me at my word.
“It was an accident,” Mother cuts in. “You don’t need to worry, dear. Lana made a mistake. She should be more careful when it comes to making dinner in the future but nothing bad happened.”
I can’t help but flinch at my mother’s criticism.
Nikolai claps his hands. “Everything has gotten blown out of proportion. Now, we still have dinner to eat. Let us enjoy it and put all this awkwardness behind us.”
That appeases everyone except my father, who still glares at Nikolai. But my father doesn’t cause a scene. He knows he needs to keep the peace with Nikolai or there will be a war at his doorstep.
We all settle in the dining room and eat. The other guests chat like nothing bad happened but I can’t pretend. I pick at my food and can feel Nikolai watching me the entire time.
The moment dinner is over, he ends the party and tells everyone to leave.
My mother reaches out to me like she wants to give me a hug and then thinks better of it before she and my father walk out the front door. Once everyone is gone, it’s just me and Nikolai left in our large mansion. Never has it felt this expansive before.
“You embarrassed me tonight,” he says. The anger is obvious in his voice. Simmering just below the surface.
“Svetlana started it.”
“That doesn’t matter. Do you want to become someone you can be proud of, Lana? Because right now, you’re not acting like it.”
“She came at me first. I was just defending myself.”
“By throwing champagne in her face? I want you to be better than her.”
“Why does everyone else get to treat me terribly and I have to take it with a smile on my face?” I storm past him towards the large ballroom. Nikolai only follows.
“I want you to dance for me,” he says once we enter the room.
“Dance? Right now?”
“You’re full of passion. Anger and frustration. Use it. Dance for me.”
I huff. “I don’t even have my pointe shoes.”
“You can dance barefoot. Dance for me. Now.”
His command sends a shiver through my body. For some reason, I want to do what he says. I want him to be proud of me.
I kick my shoes off.
“Don’t act like a brat,” he growls. “Just dance.”
I turn away from him, flicking my skirt with as much anger as I can muster. “I don’t have any music.”
“Doesn’t matter. Just dance. And don’t stop until I say so.”
With a glare in his direction, I begin to move. I let my body take over and let my mind relax. Dance is my happy place. Or… I’m not sure if it ever really has been my happy place. I just know I need it and I can’t ever let go of it.
“Keep dancing,” he barks when I slow down. I pick up my pace and spin faster and faster. I jump harder and higher.
My pink dress flows through the air, making me look like a flower. When I catch myself in the large mirrors, I can’t help but see the anger on my face. The way it makes my movements jerky and wild.
“Keep dancing.”
My breath is coming out fast. My lungs are on fire. My muscles feel fatigued. And yet, I don’t stop.
Nikolai watches me like a hawk who will kill me at any moment if I drop my guard.
Every time I spin, I see him. He’s my center. My eye-line.
“Don’t stop,” he snaps. My body is screaming at me to stop though. It desperately needs a break and yet, I listen to Nikolai. I keep pushing my body harder and harder.
My movements are fast and unhinged. Never have I let myself go like this in dance. It’s all too much. I’m going to die. I need a release.
I spin towards him. My foot bends awkwardly and I collapse to the ground with a cry.
“Don’t stop,” he orders.
I ignore the pain in my foot and get back to my feet, pushing myself faster. It’s unbearable.
Nikolai shows me no mercy.
I cry out as I fall to the ground again. And this time, I can’t get back up. Nikolai’s footsteps are like the clang of a death bell as he walks towards me. Then all is quiet as he kneels down beside me.
He pushes my hair out of my eyes as I finally cry. Full, body sobs. I grab his jacket and cling to it, burying my head in his neck.
And he says the one thing that offers me the most comfort I have ever felt in this world.
“You can stop dancing now.”