Chapter 3 #2
He parks us in front of the elevator, and when Cristian gets out, I try to scramble out of my seat. But the man is inhumanly efficient, and before I can touch one foot to the floor, he’s standing in front of me with a look that feels like a reprimand.
“Chantel.”
His voice is a warning, and I have the sudden urge to see exactly what he’d do if I chose to disobey him. Then I realize how insane that thought is, and I back down because his stare could level an entire city. Right now I’m too tired to choose anything but self-preservation.
Upon my concession, Cristian lifts me into his arms and steps into the elevator. It’s a silent ride, and we continue to avoid each other’s gaze. The entire event probably only takes a few seconds, but it feels like a lifetime.
He carries me past the marble staircase in the foyer and through a few archways until we finally reach the primary gathering space.
When we enter, Mariella glances up from the lounge where she and Antonella are seated, arching a brow at us.
“He insisted,” I complain as he sets me down beside them. “It’s really not that bad.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” She scoops up Antonella and settles her onto my lap. “I figured you could use an emotional support toddler during the exam.”
“Hi, beautiful girl.” I smile as the most recent addition to the Vitale family beams at me. “You’re up late.”
“Abella wasn’t feeling well, so Angelo’s taking care of her,” Mariella explains. “The others have already gone to bed, so it’ll just be us.”
“I’ll put Nella to bed,” Cristian volunteers gruffly.
Mariella nods. “Okay, but she’s been asking for Chantel to tell her a story first.”
“You have, have you?” I brush my fingers through Nella’s dark strands as she blinks up at me with sleepy eyes. “Which story should we do tonight?”
“Pwincess,” she answers decidedly.
“Alright, here we go.” I reach for her blanket and get her settled into my arms as Mariella examines my ankle. “Once upon a time, in the kingdom of the black stag, there lived a magical princess who was the most beautiful girl in all the land. Can you guess what her name was?”
“Nella?” Her eyes widen in delight.
“That’s exactly right.” I tap her nose.
I continue the story, explaining how all the stars in the sky shone for her, and every animal in the land loved her so dearly, they would never leave her kingdom.
When I get to the part about her army—a strapping stock of the finest soldiers named Angelo, Romeo, Cristian, Rafe, and Michele—Nella giggles and looks at her uncle.
“You pwotect me?” she asks Cristian.
“On my life, Cucciola.”
His voice is deadly serious, and when I glance up, I find him watching me, something unreadable flickering in the depths of his eyes. That moment suspends itself before Nella prompts me to continue, snapping me out of whatever that was.
I resume the story, sending princess Nella on magical adventures until the little girl in my arms inevitably falls asleep.
As I peer down at her angelic face, warmth floods my chest, opening the floodgates of a familiar ache.
I don’t even realize how long I’m staring at her until Mariella clears her throat, dragging me from my thoughts.
I blink up to find both her and Cristian studying me, and I feel entirely too exposed.
“You should probably get Nella to bed,” I tell him. “It’s late.”
He ignores my suggestion as his attention shifts to Mariella. “What’s the verdict on her ankle?”
“Yes, Doctor.” I roll my eyes. “Am I going to live?”
She doesn’t share my amusement.
“Real talk, this isn’t something you can keep putting a Band-Aid on,” she says.
“You had a bad sprain that wasn’t properly rehabbed, and every time you re-injure it, you’re risking permanent damage.
I know you love your job, but at some point, you need to ask yourself what’s more important.
Another year on stage, or living with chronic pain ten years from now. ”
I swallow as the reality of my situation hits me.
I do love my job, and it’s not because I need the money.
As a child, dancing was one of the few approved activities I was allowed, and it became my escape.
I trained in tap, ballet, and competitive jazz, and when I was old enough, I attended summer intensives in pursuit of my ultimate goal.
I wanted to be a Rockette so badly, it was all I thought about for years.
With an insane amount of practice and precision, I achieved that ambition at eighteen.
Back then, my life felt like it was finally coming together.
I had everything a woman in my position could hope for—a fiancé I didn’t hate, a dream come to fruition, and a life that looked brighter than it ever had.
But when my illusions shattered and it all went up in smoke, all that remained was the one thing nobody could ever take from me.
When I came to Seattle, I had to start fresh without referencing most of my dance background. It was too risky to get into anything with publicity, so when I found Burlesque at a private club for members only, I knew it was my path forward.
It gave me back my confidence and the opportunity to build a new life. And while some people like to discount what I do, they don’t understand the amount of hard work and dedication it took to get where I am.
Nobody handed me anything. I started out dancing in the chorus, and I dedicated three years perfecting my craft before I was ever given the chance to showcase my skills as a feature act.
But the work doesn’t stop when I step off the stage.
I have group and solo rehearsals, physical therapy, strength training, barre, yoga, and Pilates.
Then there are the fittings and costume prep, hair and makeup tests, prop work, music, choreography, lighting, and persona development.
For the last six years, it’s been my life. I’ve earned a prime time slot and a steady income that’s provided what I need. But every dancer has a shelf life, and deep down, I knew pushing my body would catch up with me.
Still, leaving it all behind now feels like a loss I’m not ready to face.
“How long do you think I have realistically?” I ask Mariella.
“I can’t give you a timeline. But if you don’t make the choice yourself, your body will eventually make it for you.”
I nod, accepting it for what it is. It might not be what I wanted to hear, but it’s reality.
“I’ll start thinking about my options,” I tell her. “How long do you think I need off for right now?”
“At least a few days. In the meantime, keep it iced and elevated. You can bear weight as tolerated. Just try not to overdo it.”
“Okay.” I blow out a breath, already knowing Victor won’t be happy with me taking anything more than that.
Until I have something else lined up, I’m not willing to risk my income. I have money saved, but I don’t want to dip into that. That’s my emergency fund, and there may come a day when I’ll need every penny of it to escape.
“Looks like you’re off the hook.” I glance up at Cristian. “Doctor’s orders, I can walk on my own.”
He gives me a dry look, and I rush to say something else before we have another staring contest. “I’ll take your jacket off too, once you take Antonella.”
“You can give it to me later.”
His eyes roam over me, observing the way it swallows me whole. And for one fleeting moment, he’s not looking at me like he’s perpetually unimpressed by my very existence.
I’m not inclined to believe he’s let go of his dislike for me completely, but it seems like we’ve bridged some of the gap at least.
After a beat, he leans down and extracts Antonella from my arms. As he rises, she settles her head against his chest and lets out a soft exhalation when he rubs her back. I have to tell my hormones to calm down, because right now they’re volunteering my uterus to carry his heirs.
Jesus, I think I just lost my last brain cell.
I should not be having these thoughts about Cristian. Not only are they highly inconvenient, he’s off-limits and most definitely a bad idea.
But, honestly, it can’t be helped. Seeing any of the Vitale brothers with Nella is biological warfare.
There’s something so primal about watching men who are natural-born protectors interact with a child.
Cristian may have a reputation for being cold and calculating, but he’s gentle and attentive to Nella in a way I never would have expected if I hadn’t witnessed it myself.
I have no doubt he’ll be a good father if he does end up marrying. Though, when I try to imagine him with that woman from the party, my mind rejects the idea.
I’m grateful when Cristian carries Antonella from the room, so I can stop thinking about it entirely. But when I glance over, I find Mariella watching me.
“You’re good with her,” she says. “Do you ever think about having any of your own?”
“All the time.” The words spill out before I can stop them.
I’ve never admitted that out loud before. Maybe it’s the exhaustion of the day, or maybe it’s just that Mariella gets me in a way others don’t.
She understands what it’s like to experience the kind of betrayal that fundamentally changes who you are. In my case, it fractured me so deeply I’m not sure it can ever be repaired. Most days, I feel like I’m just cosplaying as a fully capable and functional adult.
While my other friends think I’m a strong, confident woman, Mariella recognizes the cracks beneath the surface. She notices the uncertainty in my eyes when I tell them everything’s okay, I’m fine, and I have nothing to worry about.
I share more of myself with her because she was there for me at my lowest. And while trust is difficult for me, I know she will never betray my confidence.
“I take it these plans don’t include Marco?” she hedges.
My stomach turns at the mention of his name. “God, no. If I never see him again, it will be too soon.”
“What happened?” She frowns.