Chapter 61 Adrian
ADRIAN
Everything she expected to happen is happening.
As soon as we push past the doors in the lobby and officially enter the gala, a crowd approaches us. Apparently there’s crossover appeal between ballet and hockey, wherein all they want to do is talk about the latter.
Too bad I refuse to give an inch.
“Hughes.” A man introduces himself as a prominent donor to Madame Kozlova’s dance company, shaking my hand. “Great to meet you. What’s the plan this season?”
“Cheering for the best dancer I’ve ever had the honor of watching. Have you met Sonya, my wife?”
The donor’s eyes move to her and he shakes her hand. “How is it like being married to one of the most famous men in the city?”
My wife thins her lips, before trying to reshape them into a smile.
My vision dims.
No. She doesn’t have to do that.
“You’re asking the wrong question. Everyone needs to ask me, what’s it like being married to the most talented ballerina in the city?” I glance around at the growing number of people gathering. “How familiar is everyone with ballet?”
It’s an open-ended question. Designed to flip the script and get everyone engaged.
Those milling around us light up, cycling through different answers.
Like anyone would, they love sharing their own stories.
I step back and gently nudge Sonya to stand in front of me.
“You must have heard about Bob Pepita’s last ballet,” I say.
“Sonya’s one of the front-runners to be selected as a principal dancer for his final swan song. ”
Eyes widen. They didn’t know?
My hand on Sonya’s back flexes. My wife should have more name recognition than this. The fact that she doesn’t tells me Madame Kozlova, the person hosting this illustrious gala, and also my wife’s mentor for so many years, hasn’t been supporting her properly.
My pulse throbs along my jaw.
I pull Sonya closer, my hand secure on her hip. Hers flattens against my chest. “I promised I wouldn’t embarrass you, darling. But can I? Just once?”
My ballerina has no idea where I’m going with this. Her eyebrow twitches up, but she’s nodding. Trusting me. “I guess. If you must.”
I take my phone out of my pocket. “This is my favorite performance of hers.” I gesture. “Everyone needs to watch this.”
News spreads fast. A big chunk of the gala wants to meet a famous hockey player. I shake my head and raise my voice, “People in the back can’t see. How about we share the link around?” I give it to a few people around me, then nudge them to turn around and pass it along. It’ll spread like wildfire.
“Which performance is it?” Sonya wonders, whispering in my ear. She’s got a crinkle between her eyebrows.
I smile. “All of them. It’s a link to my custom playlist.”
Her mouth drops open.
The commotion we’re making attracts Madame Kozlova.
She slices a pathway forward, gliding to stand in front of us.
A curt nod is given to Sonya before her hand brushes my arm.
“How lucky we are to have you with us,” she exclaims. The gown she’s wearing is blue sequins, the same shade as the Wings logo.
Facing the crowd, Madame Kozlova, declares loudly, “I knew Mr. Hughes would make it out tonight. He sees the great work we’re doing as one of Canada’s premier dance companies. He knows more than a thousand great ballerinas have worked for us, inspiring audiences with our unparalleled productions.”
She turns back to me. “Mr. Hughes, I would love to introduce you to all our biggest supporters. I’m sure they are huge fans of yours.”
In my arms, Sonya stiffens.
I pulse my hand on her hip a few times, until she relaxes by a degree.
Then I cock my eyebrow at Madame Kozlova who’s looking expectantly at me. Is she kidding? Assuming I’d abandon my wife to go around the gala with her?
She doesn’t know. I’m obsessed with my wife. A lovesick puppy glued to Sonya’s side for as long as she’ll have me.
“Actually, I was wondering who can I talk to about donating? I’m ready to make the largest contribution this company has ever seen.”
“Oh my.” Madame Kozlova’s hands flutter. “Of course! Of course! Let’s have everyone take a seat.” She points to the front of the ballroom. Across the tables and chairs, centerpieces and dangling chandeliers, is an encompassing stage. “We’ll announce it up front, so all our cameras capture it.”
With that, she rushes to organize, leading everyone to take their seats.
Sonya’s hand curls around my wrist. She pulls me to the side until we’re alone.
I cup the underside of her elbow and rub my fingers there. She’s gone tense. “I know I’m talking a lot for you. Is that still okay?”
“What?” She frowns. “No, that’s… It’s been—nice. Really nice, actually. Thank you.”
“Then?”
“What’s this about a donation?” she demands. “We never talked about that.”
I open my jacket and pull out an envelope kept inside the inner pocket.
“What’s that?”
“A check.”
“How much?” She pushes at the envelope, sending it back in the direction of my pocket. “Never mind. Anything is too much. You’re already here. I couldn’t ask—“
“Too much?” My pulse picks up with anticipation. “I don’t think you understand, Sonya.”
“What?”
“You’re my wife.”
She blushes, clutching at my jacket. “And?”
“And even if it’s only for right now, for today, I’m your husband.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“No, it does. It means I have the privilege of supporting you with everything I have.”
Her eyes dart away, but not fast enough to hide her rapid blinking.
I snatch her hand, the one pushing the envelope away and nuzzle it. “Don’t take that away from me, baby. You know I’d be sad.”
“Adrian!” she whisper-hisses. “This is real money. On that check.”
My lip curls with amusement. “It is.”
Sonya exhales, shaky and low, like something inside her just gave in a little. “Do I want to know how many zeroes are in there?”
“I don’t think you’d react well.”
“That many?”
“That many.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose.
I kiss her cheek. “If it makes you feel better, don’t forget I’m rich.
A pro athlete, but also one who’s been diversifying his income since I signed as a rookie.
Because remember, I know what it’s like to grow up poor, and I never want that again for my family.
I have six sisters, a mom, and a nibling that I’m ready to take care of whenever they need it. ”
With that said, I coax a flummoxed Sonya into our seats. Before she can deny me this, because I want her to get a taste of it. It’s for the best that she knows what to expect, that I’d do anything for her. How there’s no limit. She’s worth it all.
Because I’ve decided.
One day, I’m going to ask Sonya to marry me for real.
Lights lower, casting the ballroom in a silky twilight shadow everywhere except for a circular spotlight on the stage.
Madame Kozlova steps into it. She’s holding a microphone.
I look to Sonya. “Ready?”
Reluctance sparks behind her eyes, but wearily she nods.
“Great.” I open her hand and place the envelope with the check in it against her palm.
“I know you hate this kind of politics, but can you bear with it for a little? Because this is yours, baby. You’ll be walking up on that stage where all the photographers take your photo, so the entire ballet world knows.
The only reason they’re getting this money is because of my wife. ”