Chapter 13
One week after Alek’s and my night at the club, my kitchen was overflowing with pink flowers of all shades and sizes. They were never as loud or overwhelming as Alek’s first bouquet, though I knew that was because he wanted to get my attention after weeks apart.
I was beginning to learn things like that—how Alek thought.
We texted constantly and saw each other almost every day after Jules dropped me back home after rehearsals.
Alek couldn’t even wait twenty-four hours after one of the best days of my life to ask me on a date, taking me to a nice restaurant that night before showing me how it felt to be consumed by a villain.
And now I knew he sent me flowers because he simply didn’t want to go long without seeing me, which was good because I liked how he clung to me.
How he continued to give me articles of clothing, refusing to take the scarf back.
How he was always asking me if I wanted to go to dinner, the movies, or for a walk around the park.
And though I’d never gone to his house —because I knew once we did, we’d take that final step together—he’d come to mine often, sometimes to cuddle me while we watched trashy television, sometimes to make me feel things I’d never felt before.
Tonight would be our first night without seeing each other.
The thought brought a frown to my face as I stretched on my kitchen counter the morning before my second rehearsal as Juliet.
I’d had to quit my job at the cafe due to my new role, which would have really stressed me out had my salary not increased with our new investor.
I had Alek to thank for that. And I was too grateful to protest it much.
My sudden unemployment should have meant my brother eased up on me, but he’d only tightened the reins. Jules had been insistent that his business rival was up to something nefarious, and he didn’t want to risk me getting hurt.
“Trust me, Evangeline. This guy is bad news. I need you home, safe,” Jules had said. “Our families have too much bad blood for you to get in the crossfire.”
I would have argued with him more—because I seriously doubted a businessman cared about me in my little apartment—but Alek had also said he had to work, kissing my forehead as he told me to enjoy time with my brother.
So while I still thought Jules was being a little overdramatic, I was looking forward to the Romeo + Juliet movie night he promised me.
Our city was split in half, ruled by empires built on fear and fire. One strike, one misstep, and someone ended up in a hospital—or worse. Even a simple trip across town could turn into a battle, and I was reminded that my life, small as it seemed, was always tangled in the war.
Our family was one half, owning several businesses from hotels and restaurants, to shipping and transportation, to things I was sure I didn’t even know about.
My parents used to manage all of this until Jules became of age and took control of them with all his might.
They never offered any positions to me, but I wasn’t sure I would have taken them anyway.
I liked dancing, and I didn’t want to take my sights off my career at the Company.
But no one ever told me much about the other family.
Jules refused to even speak their names, but I pieced together enough from conversations and actions over the years.
Our families had been at war for as long as I could remember.
One would do something to sabotage the other, and they’d retaliate.
Back and forth, back and forth, sometimes ending in people getting hurt.
A few years ago, the other family sabotaged a gala held at one of our hotels.
Four people had to go to the hospital. I was thankfully at ballet practice instead of attending, but Jules’s reaction to it was absolutely ballistic.
He even made me stay home from school for weeks, acting like seventeen was way too young to be roaming the city.
And for a long time, a part of me wondered if the feud was why my parents were always sending me off to things like boarding school or lessons. If they wanted me so far away from any potential danger that they were willing to sacrifice our relationship together.
But another part of me knew I’d drive myself crazy if I kept thinking about that and other “What ifs?” So I’d stopped asking myself that long ago.
I wished, though, that Jules trusted me enough not to get myself hurt over a little business interaction. He acted like they would kill me the first chance they got, which seemed a little far-fetched. What would the other family ever want to do with me?
Smiling at my array of flowers, I grabbed my bag and waited for Jules to arrive to take me to rehearsal.
Alek gave endlessly. Pink ranunculus one morning.
Peonies the next. White roses with soft blush tips that looked like they’d been painted on by hand.
They might have been too much for anyone else, but I craved it.
No. I craved him. Every flower, every note, was a reminder that he was always watching, always near, always claiming me as his.
What could I say? Princess treatment felt good.
The sound of a car horn jolted me from my thoughts, and I jogged down the apartment stairs, waving at my neighbor, who always smelled a little too much like beer. Jules’s sleek red sports car idled at the curb, and I slid inside, kissing my brother on the cheek. “Hi, Jules.”
“Hi, Annie. Got everything you need for tonight?”
I held up my bag. “Yup. And I’m gonna make you buy me so much candy.”
My brother rolled his eyes as he pulled into the street. “I would expect nothing less.”
On the way there, I checked my messages and smiled when I saw one waiting for me from Alek.
Aleksandr
Good morning, solnyshka. Have fun at rehearsal. Call me later?
I shot off a quick response before shoving my phone in my bag, not wanting to risk Jules seeing it. I still wasn’t sure how my brother would react to the news that I not only had a boyfriend, but had gotten one without even mentioning Alek to him once.
Yes, boyfriend. Because the other night, when we were cuddling on my couch underneath my pink fuzzy blanket, I’d made the mistake of saying I wasn’t sure if Alek was my boyfriend, which I felt like was fair considering he only ever called me “his” and not anything normal like girlfriend.
Needless to say, Alek decided to punish me with his tongue by not letting me come for what felt like hours. By the time he did, I was a sobbing mess, apologizing over and over and over while he kissed my tears away.
“Say you’re my girlfriend, and you can come, baby,” he’d murmured against my neck. And when I promptly obeyed, Alek had made me see stars.
Jules glanced over to me, his brown eyes a mix between concerned and confused. “You’re quiet today.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re never quiet, Evangeline.”
I gaped at him. “Yes, I am!”
My brother gave me a pointed look. “No, you’re not. You used to talk to your bedroom door for fun.”
“Because you never wanted to play with me!”
At the time, I was always so hurt that my brother would hardly ever play with me. Now, as an adult, I was surprised he did at all. Playing ballerina dress-up and acting out princess stories with a six-year-old was probably excruciating for a thirteen-year-old boy.
“Maybe I never wanted to play with you because you talked too much,” he teased before pulling to the side in front of the theater. “Same time as yesterday?”
“Yup. Bye, Jules!”
The studio was bustling with dancers who had to be there earlier to work on some of the corps de ballet scenes. That used to be me—moving through the choreography as a unit, Mia always by my side. Dancing on my own would take some getting used to.
“That’s because you don’t belong here,” the voice inside of me whispered. The new spotlight, the rehearsals, the excitement with Alek—all of it stirred a storm in my head.
The break in my routine, the new environment, all of my overstimulation from Alek—though amazing—was making the voice stronger. I thrived best when I knew where to go, what to do, and who to be. Routines. Rules. Anything to silence the buzzing.
Now, I had to work twice as hard to get out of bed some mornings, tragedy after tragedy replaying in my head.
What if I wasn’t fit to be the lead?
What if I embarrassed myself and the other dancers?
What if I hurt myself like Elsie did?
What if I took the spot away from someone else who truly wanted it?
What if Madame Germaine only chose me because of Alek’s suggestion?
What if my brother found out about Alek and me?
What if Jules didn’t accept him as my boyfriend?
What if this empty feeling—the one that insisted I was never doing anything right—never went away?
I ignored all of those questions and the dozens that followed, shoving them into the box deep inside my heart with all of the other emotions I couldn’t deal with. That was my life: constantly trying to please everyone but myself. Even the little voice in my head.
“Evangeline,” Madame Germaine said as I began to warm up. “I hope you worked on your épaulements last night.”
“Yes, ma’am, I did.” I stayed at the studio for an extra hour trying to get my shoulders to turn just right. It was a small thing in ballet—not even a full move—but Madame Germaine didn’t become director of the Company by ignoring the small things.
“Good. You’ll be working on the balcony pas de deux with Raphael today.”