Chapter 56
Kinsley
My Most Beautiful What If
The next morning, I rose early, having made up my mind. I was going to be packed and ready to go the minute my men came home. I knew in my heart they would come here first, so I would be ready for them.
With the biggest grin on my face, I hauled the suitcases from the closet and started packing.
A little while later, Renee came to check on me, looking taken aback at what she found.
Glancing down, I noticed she had a small suitcase with her.
She blinked slowly, head tilted, a furrow creasing her forehead as if trying to piece it all together.
“I’m sorry. I…are you leaving? Did you want me to take this one back downstairs? Marcus left it for you?”
“No, it’s fine. I asked him to drop some things off.” I laughed as she nodded and left. Marcus was discreet enough to put the items I wanted in a small suitcase that locked. My phone buzzed almost immediately with the code for it.
KINSLEY:
You’re amazing, and I appreciate you so much.
MARCUS:
Well, there were some interesting items, to be sure. I’m confident whatever you have inside that head of yours will pay off in spades.
I didn’t have time to investigate them before Pasha came by to dance, but the minute we were done, I planned to dive in. I tied my hair up as I walked, twisting the band tighter than necessary.
The stretch of hallway was long and lined with polished wood, my socked feet nearly silent on the runner. I cut through the side stairs and took them two at a time. By the time I reached the ground floor, I was slightly out of breath. I found the doorman near the front vestibule.
“Pasha’s coming by today, so just send him up. He knows where I’ll be.”
The doorman’s face broke into a smile. “You’ve got it. Have fun.”
I turned back, already retracing my steps, this time taking the stairs like a normal person would.
The world outside stopped as soon as I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The chandeliers were dimmed, catching soft glints of light on the shined wood floor.
It was always a little surreal, dancing in a place this old.
It made me wonder about the Kings’ family, generations back hosting parties and get-togethers here.
That was the part that made it surreal, not that it was a ballroom.
This place had history, and me and Pasha were going to leave our mark on it.
I walked to the far wall, pulled out my phone, and plugged it into the dock.
A low hum of strings filled the space, something slow and familiar—not quite ballet, not quite contemporary.
It felt right. I started stretching, letting the movement take over without thinking. Right leg first, hamstrings, then hips. I rolled my shoulders and folded forward, breathing into the pull.
A flicker in the mirror made me glance up.
Pasha stood in the doorway, watching me.
My breath caught in my throat. Hints of the little boy I once knew stared back at me.
He opted for a pair of dark joggers and a tank top.
It would soon be discarded. His rich brown hair was neatly styled, except for the one rebellious curl that always slipped free to fall across his forehead.
“You’re here,” I said, straightening.
He smiled. “You’ve started without me.”
I glanced down. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all.”
After dropping his bag by the door, he stepped into the room fully, eyes sweeping over me like he was taking inventory.
“Posture’s better,” he said, circling slowly, that slight shift in his voice making me smirk. Teacher mode. Great.
I straightened instinctively, rolling my shoulders back. “I haven’t even started yet.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s in your stance. You’re more grounded than the last time we did this.”
He paused in front of me, arms crossed, a smile tugging at his mouth. “So.” He tilted his head. “Heard you made up with Ivan.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Who told you that?”
“Doesn’t matter. Is it true?”
A grin formed on my face as heat rushed forward. I stretched my arm across my chest. “Yeah, we did.” My attempt to play off my embarrassment didn’t go unnoticed.
“And now that he’s back on the roster?” He wiggled his brows. “Do I need to fear even more for my life?”
“Nope. I put in a good word for you. Not that I had to with the other guys. They seem to like you quite a bit.”
Amusement flickered in his gaze, but it softened just as quickly. “Good to know.”
We stretched in silence for a bit, and then the burning question I’d wanted to ask him poured out.
“So, how’s Hannah?”
A sharp exhale puffed past his lips as he flexed, and his expression shifted. Barely. But I saw it.
“She’s…not thrilled with me at the moment.”
“Uh-oh. What did you do? It’s not because of me, is it?”
He rubbed his palm over his face before dropping it with an exaggerated sigh. “Partially? No, that’s not fair. Truth is, Mouse, finding you again has shifted things for me. I don’t want to be on the road anymore.”
I froze mid-stretch. “Seriously?”
He nodded, circling behind me. Our eyes met in the mirror. “We both got into that new network competition show—“
“Wait, the one? The one with the crazy ratings and the live voting and a million-dollar prize. That one?”
“Yeah, that one.” His mouth tugged into a dry smile. “She’s over the moon. And I was too, at first. But now…”
He ran a hand through his hair, knocking the curl back, only for it to fall again. “I don’t want it anymore.”
I blinked. “Why?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Truth or a lie?”
My throat tightened. “Truth, Pasha,” I said quietly, motioning between us. “That’s all we do.”
There was the smallest shift of his body, and for a moment, I wanted to scream, “No, I’ll take the lie.”
He crossed the floor slowly, each step quiet against the marble. “Truth it is, then.”
When he stopped in front of me, he didn’t touch me—just looked at me like the rest of the world had gone silent.
“I’ve told you before, but finding you has changed me,” he said, voice lower now, steadier. “I realized…and God help me here, but there’s no one else I want to share a stage with.”
A lump lodged itself in my throat, thick and unmovable.
“It’s always been you, Mouse. You and me.
From the start. Even when we were kids, you kept up with me.
Pushed me. You knew how to move with me before I even knew where I was going.
That kind of connection…” He shook his head, eyes glinting.
“You don’t find that twice in a lifetime.
It seems pointless. Competing with my heart not into it. ”
Something twisted in my chest, slow and sharp. I knew exactly what he meant. Because as much as I loved where I was now, who I was with, nothing compared or could even come close to the magic that coursed through me when I was in his arms.
The rhythm. The breath. The unspoken cues. The story we told without a single word. It was electric. Timeless. Bigger than both of us. He didn’t need to say more.
“Did you know that during the darkest times of my life, I’d close my eyes and dream of us. You and me out there on tour together, teaching together, living in a flat above our very own studio. It was the only thing that got me through, a lot of times.”
Tears filled my eyes as I recalled countless times when he was my source of comfort in the dark, when I was too terrified to move. How many times had I closed my eyes and imagined the feel of his hand in mine, the lights above us, the roar of an audience after a flawless finish?
That dream kept me sane.
I tried to breathe through it. Tried to blink it away.
But the tears came anyway. And so did he.
Like a lifeline, he stepped forward and pulled me into him.
Strong arms circled me, one at my waist, the other wrapping over my shoulders, anchoring me.
I let my head rest against him, the velvety feel of his bare skin catching a few of the tears.
With a rocking motion, he comforted me. It was as if we were still dancing, only slower.
Barely moving, but still swaying to something only we could hear.
“I’m okay,” I whispered, even though I wasn’t.
He didn’t answer. Just smoothed his hand up and down my back, the way he used to after competitions when I pushed myself too hard. When I finally pulled back, his hands came up to my face, fingertips brushing my cheeks, thumbs catching what was left of the tears.
His expression was unreadable—tender but serious, his gaze searching mine like he was trying to memorize every line of me.
“Ty — moyo samoye krasivoye chto yesli.” You’re my most beautiful what-if.
My breath caught. And for a second, the world stilled. Damn the universe and everything in it. This wasn’t fair. But I knew better than to fight it. The reality of my world was, I was leaving again. Disappearing, this time for good.
“Pasha. Damn it all to hell.” I sobbed in his arms for a few minutes and then got it together. Once I felt steady enough, I spoke. “So you don’t want to do the show…because of me?”
His eyes flickered. “Not because of you. But because you reminded me that dance isn’t about the lights or the name recognition or having millions of people vote for a version of me that isn’t even real. It’s about who I dance with. And if it can’t be you…I don’t want it at all.”
A weary sigh escaped, and my heart lurched inside my chest.
“And once I realized that,” he continued, softer now, “I started thinking longer term. Bigger picture. I want something that lasts. Something that feels real. Teaching feels like that. Showing kids how to find what we had—that magic—without having to sacrifice every piece of yourself to do it.”
“So is that what you’ll do then?”
“I didn’t walk in here today thinking I’d make my final decision, but I just did. I haven’t told anyone yet, but there’s an offer on the table at the London School of Ballet. Permanent faculty. It feels right.”
“And Hannah?”