Casey
T he music plays softly, weaving like a warm web through my body. An imaginary string pulls my torso into a straight line while another lifts my working leg behind me at a ninety-degree angle. I inhale as I transition from arabesque to developpe.
“Beautiful extension, . The benefits of those long limbs are not lost on you.” It’s not the first time she’s told me this, but today, I think I believe it. Today, I actually have confidence. In my bones, I know I’m good.
Miss Dumond claps, dismissing the class with her usual instruction and words of encouragement, then calls to me. Her smile is wide as I approach, words spilling free before I reach her. “How did it go?”
She doesn’t need to elaborate. She’s had me keep her informed of every step of the music video, from the rehearsals to the choreography. Next to Graham, she’s been my biggest champion for the last few weeks.
I spin on my toes, unable to stop my lips from stretching ear to ear. “It was great. Amazing! Obviously, the whole thing won’t make it to television or the internet, but they gave me a copy of the entire ten-minute performance.”
“That’s wonderful, .” She takes both of my hands in hers and squeezes. Her eyes light up with so much pride I feel I may burst. “I had no doubt you would be anything but brilliant. I’ve told you time and again how remarkable you are.”
I pull my hands away and cover my face to stifle an excited giggle. “I know it’s such a small thing, and I need a lot more on my resume before I can audition, but I feel good about it.”
“As you should, sweetheart. You deserve all the wonderful things coming your way.”
“I… If you hadn’t pushed me, I wouldn’t have tried.”
“I think we both know someone else helped more than I did.” She winks, and I blush.
“Yes. Graham helped me with the job, but you got me there. Thank you.”
“, it’s been my pleasure teaching you the last three years, and I’m looking forward to watching you grow.”
We speak for a few more moments before I make my way to the changing room. Since the video and coming clean with Dad, I feel lighter.
And this with Graham and me? It’s everything I wanted as a girl and accepted I would never have as I got older. It’s a dream come true. My knight in Briton riding a black Ferrari came and rescued me. He saved me from myself. I feel like I’m floating.
No. I feel happy, in love, and free.
I should’ve known it wouldn’t last.
Before I reach the changing room, I hear the voices of some of the other girls seeping into the hallway. Then I hear my name, and I freeze.
“I don’t know why Miss Dumond spends so much time on her. She’ll go nowhere. Everyone knows she’s too tall. Not to mention she’s not even good.” I hear Mena Cristobel say. I’ve… Well, I don’t know Mena, but she came to Miss Dumond a few months after me. I didn’t realize she knew my name. “I mean, if she couldn’t get into the ballet academy she has no chance of getting into the company.”
“I heard her stepbrother owns this studio. Everyone knows he’s always been obsessed with her.” My stomach flips at the sound of Lola Santos’ comments, choking down the bile rising in my throat. I’ve known her since Mom married Maxwell. We were in all the same classes in school. “Rumor has it they’re fucking each other. Like mother, like daughter. Two gold-digging sluts keeping it in the family.”
I slap my hand over my mouth as a sob bubbles in my chest. I’ve been tormented by Lola for years. When I was younger, it was blatant and devastating. As we got older, it became more passive-aggressive.
I became a pro at keeping my head down, avoiding every interaction with her and her friends as much as possible. Eventually, though their words still stung, I was able to tune them out.
I should do that now. Or walk away. But my feet won’t move. It’s as if my subconscious is keeping me rooted to the spot, forcing me to hear what they have to say—absorb every word for daring to believe I deserve a small glimmer of happiness.
Tears burn my eyes. Self-loathing buries itself beneath my skin like a parasite. I hate that I can’t stand up for myself, but even if I could, what would I say when their words dig so deeply that I believe them?
“You know if you looked up jealous bitch in the dictionary, your faces would be there?” I recognize Poppy Carnac’s voice.
My eyes widen, stunned that someone is speaking up against them—for me.
My feet carry me forward a bit. Just enough to lean against the wall, so my shaky legs don’t give out.
“Why would we envy her?” Mena scoffs. I can practically hear her eye roll and the flipping of her blond hair.
“Because she is sweet, beautiful, and a better dancer than the two of you combined.”
“Oh please. Like you would know what makes a good dancer. You are no one and nothing. Don’t you live in, like, Idaho or something?” Lola’s snide tone makes it obvious she doesn’t think much of Sabrina.
“Well, I dance with the city ballet, so a lot more than someone from Buffalo who thinks she’s a professional because she attended Miss Cindy’s school of dance once a week, like every other girl in her grade. Or some spoiled-ass Barbie bitch that is trying real hard to pretend Daddy didn’t get bankrupted by the very man that you claim owns this studio.” Gasps echo in the room along with Lola and Mena’s sputters.
Holy cow! How does she know all this?
The sound of footsteps comes my way. Panic of getting caught eavesdropping—or worse, crying—makes my head whip in either direction, looking for the quickest escape. I spin, trying to make my getaway when my name is called. I’m tempted to keep going, but instead, I stop, look over my shoulder, and then turn around, swiping away tears before I do. “Hi.” I put on my best smile, but it feels wobbly.
“You heard all of that, didn’t you?” My smile plummets like a jumper from the Empire State Building, and I tip a shoulder, keeping my eyes down. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Poppy.”
“I know,” I whisper, and it’s true. I knew who she was in her first class. I’ve admired her work for a while. She’s been in well-known productions since she was eighteen, but she’s perfect. Not only is she graceful and elegant on stage, she’s only around five foot two. She may just be part of the ensemble, but her exquisite talent stands out. “I’m .”
“You shouldn’t let them bother you, you know?”
At first, I deny they did, but she raises a dark, perfectly arched brow. I huff a laugh. “I know I shouldn’t, but I have… issues.”
“Sweetheart, we all do, but that doesn’t mean you should let them talk about you like that. You should go in there and tell them to kiss your ass,” she says as she lifts her bag a little higher on her shoulder.
“I want to, but I freeze. The thought of confrontation makes me physically sick. I-uh… I have avoidant personality disorder and chronic anxiety.” I slap my hand over my mouth as my eyes bug. I’ve never said it out loud to anyone, yet it just spilled from my lips to this girl I barely know.
“And no filter, it seems,” she giggles.
I press my palms to my heated cheeks. “Usually, I’m a vault. I didn’t mean to just say all of that.”
“It’s okay. I don’t have one at all which I’m sure you heard.”
“H-how do you know the guy she’s talking about bankrupted her dad?”
“I overheard her say the other day.” Her eyes soften along with her smile. “We should grab coffee sometime.”
“Oh no. You don’t have to do that.” My hand flips through the air, trying to seem casual. “I’m sure there are plenty of other people you’d rather spend your time with.”
Her hazel eyes trace my face. The scrutinizing gaze makes me shift from foot to foot. “Of course, I don’t have to. I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. So, it’s settled. We will get coffee, make small talk, and become great friends.”
And suddenly I realize I would like that. I love Lily and Ashleigh, but it would be nice to have someone to talk to who understands my passion. “That would be nice,” I admit. “I don’t have a lot of friends.”
A long, slender finger taps against her chin as she clucks her tongue, and her hazel eyes narrow on me. “No. That’s not true. You’re just the type of person who has no clue how many people love her.”
Okay. She really doesn’t have a filter. Maybe she’s Lily’s long-lost twin. “I hope we can become friends,” I concede.
Her lips pull back, revealing an insanely gorgeous smile. “Sleepovers and everything before you know it.”
“Who’s sleeping over where?” His deep voice penetrates through to my bones, and an involuntary shudder rips through me.
Poppy’s eyes snap up, turning to saucers when she sees the man behind me. Her mouth unhinges for a moment before she looks back at me. “This-uh… This the rumored stepbrother?” She mock whispers from the corner of her mouth. “Is he like six-four or five, medium brown hair, dark brown eyes, and wears a Versace suit that was probably sewn directly to his body?” I jerk my head once. “Then fuck those messy bitches, because, girl, I’d climb him like a fucking tree.”
“What messy bitches?” he rumbles, his voice deep and warning, as if he’s preparing to go to war.
And I remember everything they said. Hurt, anger, and a multitude of other emotions that aren’t rational or logical clench my heart like a vice. I spin to face him. “Did you buy this place? Is it yours?”
“Thought you weren’t confrontational,” Poppy snickers behind me, but I ignore her, giving all my attention to the man in front of me.
He tilts his head while shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking on his Tom Ford loafers. “Yes,” so casually leaves his mouth as if doesn’t change everything for me.
All of Miss Dumond’s praise and encouragement meant nothing. She just didn’t want to bite the hand that fed her.
I always said—knew—I wasn’t good enough, but for a minute I let myself believe it. I let myself get lost in the high of the music video. The job I only got because of Graham.
God, how arrogant of me.
With a jerky nod, I shoulder past him. My head stays high as I take long strides through the short hallway, refusing to let anyone see me break, even if all I want to do is crawl into the earth and die from shame and embarrassment.
I hear my name called, but I don’t stop. I can’t. Getting out of here—back to the sanctuary of my apartment where I can curl into a ball is my only goal.
The bellowing gets louder. Angier. And closer.
When I reach the lobby, I’m spun by my elbow. His fierce gaze locks on mine. Fury, fear, and frustration war in the dark depths. “Why the hell are you upset?”
Again, illogical. But how can he not understand why I would be angry to find out he owns the dance studio? That I’m only here because he bought my way in. He claims to know me so well, but why doesn’t he understand this?
Graham’s hand comes up as if to brush away my tears, but I step back, not wanting him to touch me. If he touches me, I’ll crack.
But it only makes his jaw clench tightly. The thin cord of his restraint is taut. “Don’t do that.” His warning is low, for my ears only, but the way it rips through my body is visceral. “Do not pull away from me.”
“You lied to me.” I try to sound angry, but it comes out whispered and pathetic. Then I realize we’re in the lobby and people are staring. They whisper behind their hands, point, some snickering, and my already rapid heartbeat feels like thunder during a hurricane. My eyes dart around at the audience we’ve acquired as my throat closes. A couple of people even have their phones out.
Nausea roils through me, threatening to bring me to my knees. Air struggles to reach my lungs as the room spins.
Firm hands grip me, pulling me somewhere despite no conscious thought telling my feet to move. Vague awareness of a door slamming hits my ears, then my face is gripped tightly. Instructions to breathe swirl around me. The voice is stern yet comforting, yet… My damp lashes lift and the tight muscles of his face relax as his relieved exhale hits my face.
As my panic recedes, awareness pulses through me. “You bought this place so Miss Dumond would take me. I was never… I didn’t earn…” The words keep getting stuck no matter how hard I try, and more tears—tears of frustration that I’m letting my emotions get the best of me—fall down my face. “It was all lies. I was right all along.”
“No, , that’s not what happened.” He tilts my lowered chin, forcing me to look at him. “I bought this place so she would audition you. She accepted you because you earned it.”
“I-I don’t believe you.” I swipe my wet cheeks. “It never made sense to me, but I get it now. She took me—praised me—to make sure you kept signing checks.”
“No, baby.” He reaches for me, and I duck under his arm, heading for the door.
The sound that erupts through the room is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. It can only be described as pure fury. It wraps around me, freezing my steps just as I reach the door. The next thing I know, I’m pressed against the wall with fingers digging into my jaw, but despite the wrath radiating from him in palpable waves, his grip isn’t painful, only firm.
His other arm braces on the wall next to my head as he leans down, his warm, minty breath tickling my face. “You can be angry, hurt, upset… I don’t give a fuck. Yell at me. Hit me. But never deny me your touch.” He releases my face and grabs my hand. Kisses feather along my knuckles before he presses it against his chest, right over his heart. “And don’t pull away from me. Please. We can’t work through anything if you pull away from me.” His knuckles stroke my cheek softly, and I want to melt into him.
But I don’t. I can’t.
“You lied to me. Both of you. You’ve been paying her to keep me around.” It is a well-known fact Miss Dumond doesn’t accept anyone into her advanced classes if she doesn’t see potential. I suppose you can see anything if the price is right.
“, I made an offer to buy into her school if she auditioned you. That’s it.”
“Why? Why did you do any of it? If you thought I was good enough, then why? Why did you lie?”
“I told you—I keep telling you, I may not have been around, but I was still watching you. , I stayed out of your sight, but I was never as far as it seemed. And I had Jagger keeping me informed, remember? He told me how withdrawn you were when no one would audition you after the accident. So I researched. I found Dumond, made an offer, and ensured Jagger got you there, but I did not buy your way in.”
“It’s true, .” I look to my left and see Miss Dumond. “He only asked for an audition, and I told him that was all I could offer.”
“Sure,” I scoff, “because a guaranteed influx of massive capital wouldn’t entice you to keep me around. I’m your access to unlimited funds. You can sacrifice one little spot if it keeps the doors open, right?”
“Goddammit, .” Graham’s fist slams against the wall beside me, making Miss Dumond and I jump. “Get that fucking bitch’s voice out of your head because every goddamn thing out of your mouth right now sounds like her. She was wrong. She was always wrong. You need to see that.” He steps back, scrubbing both hands over his face, muttering something unintelligible. “The contract was signed before you auditioned. I get twenty-five percent of any profit and your audition. You had to get in on your own ability, and I haven’t given a single damn penny since. Do you want to see the contract? My bank statements? Is that what it will take for you to believe me— us that you are good enough?”
“, sweetheart, you have always been immeasurably talented. The only thing that has ever held you back is you.”
I blink and a single tear falls. “But you still lied to me.”
“I’ll let you finish here,” Miss Dumond says. “I just wanted to let know Lola and Mena are no longer part of this school. Poppy told me what happened. I don’t allow the mean girl mentality from my middle school girls. It certainly won’t be tolerated by grown women.”
Graham’s head snaps to Miss Dumon, then back to me. “What happened? Miss Dumond smiles meekly as she leaves the room. I don’t blame her. “Tell me what happened,” he demands.
“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change the fact you lied to me.”
“Fine. I’ll shelf that for now, but you will tell me later.” He rolls his head around his shoulder, then cages me between both arms. “I didn’t lie about this, Case, but I didn’t tell you because I knew this would happen.”
“That doesn’t make it okay,” I whisper.
“Why? It’s no different from you lying to Liam for twenty years.” Any argument I have dies on my tongue and my jaw snaps shut. “I won’t apologize for keeping things from you, and I will continue to do so. I have lied, and I will lie again. My job—the only job that has ever mattered to me is protecting you from anyone and anything that will hurt you. Including yourself.”
He cups my face, and I finally give in, leaning into his touch. “If you only ever believe one thing, then believe this: I love you so goddamn much that there is nothing I won’t do to keep you safe and happy. Laws are meaningless if it means protecting you. Wars are mild compared to the carnage I will inflict on anyone who touches you. Your happiness is all I care about.”
I bite my lip as my eyes shut. Breathing in deeply, I try to force all the negativity away and focus on him. On his words. On his belief in me. I open my eyes with a small, teasing smile. “That’s a little excessive for one girl.”
His lips whisper over mine. “That doesn’t begin to cover what I will do for my girl.” He kisses me, lips pressing soft and gentle to mine. It’s sweet and perfect, weakens my knees, and ends much too soon. “Let’s get out of here.”
I loop my arms around his neck and kiss his scratchy chin. “Actually, it’s girls’ night, so you’ll have to find some other way to occupy your time.”
He squeezes me tight. “Baby, you can call them right now and tell them you can’t make it, or I will because the only place you’re going tonight is home with me.”
“I can’t let them down,” I tell him. “I haven’t spent any time with my friends in weeks because of rehearsal.”
His forehead drops to mine. His dark lashes kiss his cheeks before he lifts them to look at me. “We still need to talk about this. The insecurity. Who these mean girls are. All of it.”
“Can we talk tomorrow? Or even tonight when I get back. I think… I think I just need a minute to myself—with my friends. It doesn’t mean I’m avoiding you, but sometimes… Graham, I know how you feel about me. I don’t doubt that. But I feel like you baby me. They won’t. I need that.”
He brushes his hands through his hair. All the anger and frustration have drained. Now he seems anguished. Like the thought of letting me out of his sight causes physical pain.
But eventually, he nods. His lips brush my forehead before he steps back. “I’ll just stay at Dad’s tonight.”
“No!” I reach for him, drawing him back. “I don’t want that. Please. Just give me a few hours. Then I will be back, and we can talk.”
He nods, looking a little sad and maybe even worried. “I’ll be there when you get home.”
“This isn’t me pulling away. This is me being a normal girl. I promise.” I wrap my arms around him, hoping it reassures him. Even if only a little.