by Dora Bramden
The dancing tutor shook his head and used his phone to call the company physio. “You’ll need at least a week off that knee to let the ligament heal. We’ll assess you then and decide on a recovery program. After that we’ll see if you can dance Swan Lake in a few weeks.
Katrina’s understudy would take her rehearsal slots this week, in preparation for the worst. Three weeks until Swan Lake opened. Taking two years off concert performance to have Alex had been risky for her career. The grant had given her the ability to return to the stage, but this injury could seriously threaten her prima ballerina status. Her dancing career would be in serious trouble if she wasn’t ready to dance this season.
* * * *
Rapping on the front door brought Katrina hopping up the hall. She’d put Alex down for an afternoon nap after getting home from rehearsal, and then jumped in the shower. Her wet hair was wrapped in a towel turban-style and she had belted her dressing gown over her naked body. The door bell rang again and Alex started calling, “Mum, Mum,” from his cot.
She called through the door, “Just a minute,” and backtracked down the hall to Alex’s room and picked him up.
His little arms wrapped around her neck and held on as she limped back down the hall to the sound of the bell chiming. Two days after Alessandro’s delivery and she wasn’t taking any chances of confronting another impatient delivery man. She flicked open the spy hole in the front door and peeked out.
Standing on the verandah of her East Melbourne terrace house was a full on media scrum. The spy hole contorted their images into egg-shaped heads. Hand held microphones appeared enormous, as they were pushed forward, poised to catch her every word.
“What on earth?”
She hurried to the lounge room. Set Alex down in his play pen and grabbed the remote and aimed at the television. A headline scrolling across the screen had several stories about politicians and then his name. Alessandro Rinaldo, F1 World Champion, shock secret love child.
Her arms dropped to her side. The remote clattered on the floor. The TV screen became huge as her safe little boy’s world became exposed and vulnerable on global news. The anchor team began talking about her and Alessandro as the screen displayed photos of them in the park. A close up of Alex sleeping in her lap filled the TV screen and made her gasp. The commentator said they met three years ago and married so she could work at La Scala in Milan. They’d separated when her contract finished but reunited earlier in the week. Then they segued to an on-location reporter at an F1 press room.
Alessandro strode up to the podium carrying a piece of paper in his hand. He greeted the press in his native Italian then began reading in English.
“Katrina and I were married in Italy two and a half years ago.” He paused, letting that sink in as a storm of camera flashes lit up the podium.
Katrina covered her mouth. Her legs went week and she dropped down to sit on the couch.
He read on, “We prefer to keep our relationship private and for the sake of our young son. We hope the press will respect that.”
A reporter butted in, “Did you marry illegally just so she could stay in Italy and if so does that mean your son will be deemed illegitimate and no longer heir to the Rinaldo Fortune?”
Illegitimate. The word sent ice water through her veins. She stiffened ready to defend her son. She couldn’t bear for Alex to be branded unwanted, forever treated like the Rinaldo family shame. Everything hung on what Alessandro said next. Her chest ached as she tried to breathe against her tightened muscles.
“Our marriage is one hundred percent legal. We have a child and will be raising him together.”
He claimed him publicly! She let out a long breath and held herself. Her eyes welled as her heart plumped with gratitude and hope. The fears she held for Alex, the ones that had kept her silent in Milano two years ago disappeared and left warmth toward Alessandro. For the first time she believed it might be possible for them to raise him together. Perhaps not as husband as wife, but joined in the love they each had for their son.
“Why did you keep your marriage secret?”
“It was never secret. But we chose not to publicize our wedding the way some reality TV celebrities do. We preferred to keep it a quiet affair and not turn it into a media circus.”
“Is it true you’ve been estranged for the last two years?”
“My wife wanted to have our son in her homeland, Australia. That meant we’ve been living on separate continents but that is about to change. My first concern is to protect my son.”
Nicely done, he didn’t lie but kept their affairs private. She didn’t want her relationship with Alessandro discussed in every tabloid magazine and raked over by pseudo-psychologist journalists. All of that would have to be borne by her son as he grew up. She had lived with the consequences of paying for your parents’ mistakes. Whatever mistakes she and Alessandro had made in the past, protecting Alex now had to be their priority.
He stepped down off the podium and went out a door on the left of the stage. The station cut back to the anchor team. They began speculating about the validity of her marriage to Alessandro, and if the Italian courts overturned the marriage would Alex still be the Rinaldo heir. Another reporter said the laws had been altered over the years and that their wedding was legal no matter what the reasons were for their getting married and that Alex was to inherit a massive fortune. They began to show footage of Alessandro’s father and grandfather holding up winners’ cups at F1 races.
Alessandro had just publicly claimed Alex as his child. He’d done something no one had done for her. Two fathers and neither one publically acknowledged her.
Although Katrina was thrilled with what Alessandro had said she hadn’t been consulted on a press conference that involved her and her son directly. Parents have to work together and she should have been included in decisions that affect their child. Her mobile phone started to ring. It was Alessandro. She had a few things to say to him. She swiped the screen.
Six
“Why are you giving a press conference concerning my son, without speaking to me first?”
“I needed control of the story. Going to the ball together will back up what I said. I’ll pick you up at seven for the ball tomorrow night. Make sure you have your wedding ring on.”
“I’ve decided to stay home, let the press attention die down.” If Alessandro’s stunt with the wedding ring hadn’t already made up her mind not to go, the press throng at her door would have. Her knee being too sore would get her out of it with the company director who no doubt would love the extra press exposure for the lead dancer in this season’s swan lake. He’d assume it would help sell tickets. She wouldn’t tell Alessandro about her knee though. He already acted as though he could make her decisions for her and she had to show him he couldn’t.
“You don’t have a choice. You have to put Alex first.”
“I have no problem putting him first but how does going to a ball, help Alex? Given all the media attention I think it’s best if we both keep away from of public events. We’d be feeding the media machine. I should stay at home with Alex.
“No, that’s not going to work. Alex has become a major news story. Speculation about our relationship is fueling the press’s interest in Alex. The solution is to create a public image of an ordinary committed couple with a son. Then they’ll tire of us.”
“But that’s lying. Besides I don’t want Alex to be in the middle of a media storm.”
“It’s not lying. I want us to be together. I’ve been straightforward with you. We give the media a story about us that takes him out of the news.”
“I want to protect Alex but this seems to be inflaming things. The press is banging on my door. Listen.” She put the phone on speaker.
“I hear them. If you want them to go away we need to give them something. Photos of us attending a public function for example. They were coming after Alex, I gave them us. If you want to protect him you’ll support my statement and come to the bal
l. Meanwhile I’ll cut an exclusivity deal with a magazine for photos of the three of us and we can give the proceeds to charity. That will get rid of the scrum.”
Katrina never wanted Alex’s parentage to be front page news, but she was genuinely relieved that Alex was publically acknowledged as Alessandro’s son, born from a real marriage. He wouldn’t carry her shame. He wasn’t the result of hushed up infidelity.
She was used to having photos of herself in the paper. A family portrait would satisfy people and the exclusivity of the deal would call off a lot of photographers. Alex’s picture was out there now anyway. Going to the ball was step one.
“All right. I’ll go.”
“Good. I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
He hung up. She lowered herself into a chair next to Alex’s playpen. “Mummy’s going to the ball.”
He grinned toothily and reached for the phone. “Da.”
Cameras flashed as Alessandro stepped out of the car with the grace of a male dancer. He’d rung her from the car to tell her he was outside. Thigh hugging trousers showed off well-defined muscles. He walked toward her. Broad shoulders and lean hips moving in liquid motion stirred her deep inside. Her eyes followed his tie; it led down to low slung pants that stopped just above an indecent level. Her pulse picked up and she glowed with delicious nipple pricking heat of desire.
She sighed. How good it had once been between them. Their marriage then had been secret because his family was off limits to her, another of his rules. No children, no family but plenty of sex, lots and lots of radiant, life-affirming sex. Now the reversal of circumstances had thrust her relationship with Alessandro into the spotlight. She had all the appearance of being his wife. Not the reality.
She stood shivering despite the warm March breeze that ruffled her hair and made her want to do something wild. She wanted him to walk over and kiss her. He crossed the wide footpath and held out his hand. It said, ‘I’m your king and you are my queen’. She could choke him with his superb silk tie. It was only fair – the thin gold band on her left hand brought back memories that constricted her throat.
Paparazzi flashed as she walked from her front door to the limousine. She climbed in, being careful of her knee, and sunk into the soft leather seats. He slid in after her and closed the door. Immediately the crisp noises in the street softened to a hum. The calls of journalists demanding questions were cut off. She entered an in-between world with him. It ratcheted up her excitement a few notches.
They hadn’t left the curb when he kissed her. Full on the mouth, his salty sweet lips pressed against hers. She melted back into the leather seat and moaned, as the longing for more of Alessandro pulsed long every nerve. As his tongue filled her mouth, she pressed against his mouth and darted her tongue forward to explore him. His hand on her back firmed her against him making her breasts push against his chest. Need spiraled deep down as pleasure from her nipples pricked and radiated to her core.
Alessandro pulled back and hoarsely whispered, “Later we’ll finish this.”
The driver wished her a good evening and she remembered they weren’t alone. She sat back and rearranged her gown around her. A shiver of delight went through her as she absorbed his promise. She wanted him with a need that put every nerve on high alert. Her whole body craved his touch so much that it seemed to reach out for him. The distance between them on the back seat appeared to be crackling with energy.
Melbourne’s who’s who crowded the red carpet. She and Alessandro were the main event going by the journalists’ shouts. All the cameras turned in their direction. She slipped her arm through his and walked past everyone and into the ballroom.
Glittering lights from chandeliers made a fairyland effect on the walls and floor. Couples waltzed to live orchestra music. Alessandro led her between the twirling couples to a table on the far side of the room.
She noted that the place cards for her and Alessandro were in his name. As he settled her into her seat he nodded to the Ballet’s director who nodded back. That was disconcerting. Alessandro was interfering with her career at the ballet. She needed to get to the bottom of this, but it had to wait. She was immediately introduced to some high profile donors also seated at their table. For most of the evening Katrina was kept busy meeting and greeting the ballet’s major sponsors. Everyone wanted to ask about her return to the stage.
All of them were very supportive of her return to dancing and had lots of questions about how she combined it with motherhood, none asked about her and Alessandro. No wonder. He sat leaning back with his arm stretched along the back of her chair proprietarily and appeared interested in her story about early morning feeds interrupting her yoga workouts like a devoted husband.
One of the board members asked Alessandro about the minor crash in Melbourne earlier that week that had damaged the car. He fobbed the enquirer off with bravado but she shivered as she remembered the gripping fear that iced her blood when she’d watched the news footage of his car colliding with the barricade.
“A momentary lapse is all it takes,” said Alessandro. “Cornering is racing, that’s where concentration has to be absolute.”
When exactly did Alessandro find out about Alex? Had it been before the Melbourne leg of the Grand Prix? That might have been what caused the lapse in his focus before he crashed.
The director of the Australian Ballet and his wife returned to their seats at Katrina’s table, after intermittently dancing and working the room.
“I hope you have an explanation for this media circus?” The director questioned as he pinned her with his steely blues.
“As if you’re worried. It’s good publicity and you love it that Alessandro is so famous.”
“I didn’t say I have a problem, I just wanted to hear your side of being married to a billionaire and yet applying for a grant on false pretenses of needing the money.”
How had she not considered that! The grant she’d obtained to enable her to return to ballet and have Janet take care of Alex was applied for when she hadn’t heard from her husband in over a year. And she needed it if she wanted to keep her independence. Something she’d worked for years to gain. Her lips began to tingle as a adrenaline turned her saliva bitter.
“I already told you, I’ll pay it back,” Alessandro said.
“I think paying it back is the best idea if your circumstances really have changed.” The Director nodded to her wedding band.
“It’s complicated, please, I can explain but just not here.” She shot a glance at a major benefactor within hearing range.
“You’ll have the money tomorrow morning,” Alessandro announced. “Now I want to dance with my wife.” Alessandro stood up and took her hand. “Shall we?”
“You shouldn’t be dancing, Katrina,” warned the Director
“Why shouldn’t my wife dance with her husband?”
The director was talking about the injury to her knee but she hadn’t told Alessandro about it. She’d manage a waltz. Her knee was strapped and she’d taken painkillers. She’d rather dance with a caged bear than accept Alessandro’s offer to dance but she needed him to understand that the ramifications of losing her grant and that was best discussed away from the director’s hearing. Then they could return to the table and present a united front.
Katrina stood up and whispered in Alessandro’s ear, “Only because I need to talk to you.” She shot a meaningful look at the Director. “I’ll be careful.”
She accepted Alessandro’s offered hand. He swept her onto the dance-floor and Chiffon swished around her legs. Each backward step made her knee ping.
“If you think I can’t talk while dancing, you’re wrong.” She lifted an eyebrow.
“You’re letting me lead. I like it.”
“The Waltz will end in a minute. When we get back to the table I’ll be taking the lead.”
“Your steps are flawless, like a woman is floating around the floor in my arms. But I’ve good reason to question the steps you’ve take
n off the dance-floor?”
“I had my life organized exactly as I wanted it. I don’t need you circumventing me with the director just now.”
“You don’t need the grant. I’ll be taking care of your finances from now on. Keep your dancing career. I think it will be good for you. I’ll get you reinstated at the Corpo di Ballo del Teatro alla Scala. During the holiday season we’ll take Alex to Rome and show him the Fontana di Trevi.
Oh how the idea of that sounded. To return to the dream she’d cherished. But how long would it last. This could be nothing more than a whim. Yet she hoped he actually did want her in his life. His ring on her finger confused her. They were married, but estranged. His hand pressed her body against his. He shushed her and kissed her forehead. “Relax for a while. You’re here in my arms and I’ll take care of you.”
She sighed. He was a fantastic dancer and steered her safely around the dance-floor. Her knee didn’t hurt anymore. She’d fix things with the director when they returned to the table.
As Alessandro twirled them through the waltz her mind stopped fussing and focused on moving her body. Alessandro’s favorite aftershave wafted around her and she slipped back to a time when their marriage had only just begun.
She remembered him gently stroking her cheek and his brown eyes softening. There were many times when her hand rested in his as they strolled around Sempione Park, not far from La Scala. It had seemed to her that they were really husband and wife and the words I love you filled her mouth but he had never uttered them to her and so she’d kept them in.
The waltz they danced was as familiar to her as a lullaby but it would soon be over. She nuzzled against his neck and molded herself against him, making the most of the final steps with his arms around her. Movement and connection created tantalizing tingles up and down her legs. She pressed her firmed and sensitized breasts against his hard chest wall. A sweet ache grew at her core. She longed for him there, everywhere.