“It isn’t just advisable,” she said and gasped as, with a grin, he launched his rock-hard cock into her, “it’s the law. Especially when making love with the world’s best photographer … oh God, yes, Pilot, like that …”
He thrust hard and she felt her body responding, her thighs tightening around him as he thrust harder and deeper with every stroke. His eyes were intense on hers as they made love, and Boh felt the love he felt for her. He made her come again and again before they collapsed, exhausted.
Pilot held her in his arms as she drifted to sleep. “Tomorrow, baby,” he whispered, “tomorrow you’re the star.”
“As long as you’re there with me, I don’t care who the star is.”
He chuckled. “Enjoy it, baby. It’s your time.”
She fell asleep dreaming of applause, of flowers raining down on her, and Pilot, in the audience, proudest of all.
Chapter Nineteen
Eugenie called Serena on the burner phone she had messengered to her. “Is it done?”
“All set. Kristof is the new lead, just like I suggested to him. He’ll dance with Boh tomorrow night.”
“Good. That’s good. And the rest of it?”
“All arranged. They don’t expect anything to go wrong, so the security is lax.”
Eugenie smiled down the phone. “Are you ready for the shit to hit the fan?”
Serena smiled. “I can’t fucking wait.”
Chapter Twenty
Pilot accompanied Boh to the Metropolitan the next day as they were preparing for the performance. Having him there helped, but she knew Kristof wouldn’t like it. So, she gave him a quick tour and ran through the ballets with him.
“At the end of The Lesson, the teacher stabs the pupil to death,” she made a stabbing motion to the Psycho music, “and then they carry her body out as another pupil rings the doorbell and the cycle begins again.”
Pilot nodded. “So how do you do it? Fake blood?”
“Nah. Takes too long to clean. Believe it or not, I, as the pupil, will just collapse, facing away from the audience, and as the teacher and his housekeeper move the body, they’ll drape a red handkerchief over me. It’s less gory than it sounds. The horror, really, is the inference that he’s done it before, and he’ll do it again.”
Pilot stroked her cheek. “I can’t wait to see you dance, baby.”
She grinned and kissed him.
“How very touching, but I need the stage cleared, please.” Kristof stalked on, not looking at Pilot. Boh sighed and rolled her eyes at Pilot, who grinned, shooting a death stare at the artistic director’s back.
“I’ll be watching from the front row, baby. You’ll be magnificent, I know it.”
Boh kissed him. “I love you.”
“Stage clear, now, people.” Kristof sounded testy, agitated.
Pilot gave Boh a last smile and left the stage. Kristof finally looked at Boh. “At last. Now, are we going to run this thing through or not?”
Eugenie called Serena on the burner phone she’d sent her. “Everything set?”
Serena chuckled. “Have no fear; it’ll all go exactly as we planned.” She looked over her shoulder at her erstwhile lover as he barked instructions at the dancers. “He’s right on the edge. By the time tonight is over, you and I will both have what we want.”
“Good. And listen, I’ll be watching. Once it’s done, the rest of the money will be delivered to the locker at Penn Station. I appreciate your help—and your silence.”
“You can be assured of that,” Serena told her smoothly. As long as it helps me to stay silent, bitch, she thought. Despite finding a world in common with the rich woman, Serena did not like or trust Eugenie Radcliffe-Morgan. The woman frightened her, frankly, and Serena didn’t scare easily, but there was something, some insanity in Eugenie’s eyes that terrified her.
Even Kristof at his most insane didn’t have that raw fury, that need for revenge. Did Serena care if people got hurt? No, as long as she wasn’t among them. She was in deep now. Killing Eleonor, or at least laying the ground work for Eleonor’s “accident” was nothing to her. What would happen tonight excited her. She just didn’t know if Eugenie wouldn’t sell her out to save her own skin.
Serena put her phone away and watched Boh and Vlad rehearse La Sylphide. She admired the way Boh moved, her extensions long and graceful, her pointe work flawless. To have to follow her on stage was always fraught, trying to live up to the other dancer’s prowess.
Serena’s eyes flicked to Kristof. He didn’t look as amped up as she wanted him to be. She’d slip the rest of the drug into his system just before he went on stage—despite the slight scandal of the artistic director replacing a lead dancer, the chance to see Kristof Mendelev dance had sold out the performance – even the reserve list was packed. Serena smirked to herself. Tonight, my love, you will have the performance of your life and the whole world will see Kristof Mendelev for the monster you really are.
Serena watched him for a few minutes more then went to change, ready for her own rehearsal.
Boh was taking notice of everything Kristof was doing as they approached curtain up. All afternoon, he had been distracted but still barking out insults, his pupils dilated, his skin sweaty. She guessed he was on something, but she was surprised he was letting it show so readily.
She rubbed her wrist. During the last rehearsal of The Lesson, he had been rough with her, rougher than necessary, and at one point, had twisted her wrist so hard she’d cried out. He’d dropped her arm immediately, looking a little shocked himself. He’d muttered an apology and disappeared back to his dressing room, presumably to take a little more of whatever his poison was. No matter. Her wrist was fine, just a little achy, but when she ran through her port de bras, it felt fine.
Despite her concern about Kristof, she felt a calm descend on her. She knew the pieces, knew every move, every step, jump, pirouette. She forgot about the audience who was gathering out front—all except one person. Tonight, she would be dancing for the man she loved, and she wanted to impress and move him with every step.
“Miss Dali? Fifteen minutes, please.”
Calm. Breathe in, breathe out. Boh got up and knocked on the adjoining door. Lexie was sitting at her makeup table, and Boh could see the apprentice was trembling. She had been given the role of the housekeeper in The Lesson, a reward for working so hard and impressing Grace, but Boh could see the young girl was terrified. She hugged her.
“Lexie, darling, you will be superb. You’ll out-dance both Kristof and myself, so don’t be scared.” Bo looked around conspiratorially. “Don’t say I said this, but there’s talk in the ballet company. When you move to the corps, don’t expect to be there long. There’s talk of a soloist role by the end of next season.”
Lexie’s eyes grew big. “Are you kidding?”
“No, darling, I swear. The only person who doesn’t know you are as good as you are is you.”
“Thank you, Boh.”
As the music began, Pilot’s heart swelled. His sister, seated beside him, nudged him and grinned. Blair Scamo sat on his other side. Any moment now, he would see his love, his adored Boh dancing on this magnificent stage, and for a moment, he didn’t know how his heart would be able to cope with it. She had brought him such, joy, such happiness that seeing her in her element … he couldn’t find the words. He looked at his mother, who smiled at him. “You like Boh, right?”
“Darling, that girl is your other half. I can see it, Romana can see it … Boh is your person and I’m delighted for you both.”
Pilot felt his throat get full, and he smiled and nodded, but couldn’t speak.
And then the ballet began. As he watched, Boh danced onto the stage, coquettish and flirtatious with Vlad’s James, seducing him with her gentleness and ethereal beauty away from his fiancée.
As Boh had promised him, he got lost in the story of it. La Sylphide, a wood spirit, seduced a young man, James, away from his fiancée, and the rejected woman worked w
ith a witch to have her revenge. They were performing Act II of the ballet, where the two lovers were discovered by the wedding party. Pilot watched as Boh and Vlad were convinced by the witch that the scarf she held was a magic scarf that would bind them together.
As the scarf was wrapped around Boh/La Sylphide, she began a movement which played out the tragedy—the scarf was poisoned, and La Sylphide died in James’ arms. Pilot felt his chest tighten as Boh acted out her death scene. They’re acting. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother wiping a tear away.
As James died from a broken heart, the curtain came down to rapturous applause from the audience. Pilot was on his feet as the dancers took their curtain call and Boh winked at him from the stage. Romana whooped, garnering surprised looks from the staid audience, but she didn’t care.
Pilot paid little attention to the second part, Romeo and Juliet. Instead he was trying to finalize the arrangement of his photographs in the exhibition. There were so many great shots of Boh that he had an embarrassment of riches to choose from, but he needed to make sure the collection was cohesive.
At interval, Romana chuckled at him. “Dude, did you even see a step of that last part?”
Pilot shrugged. “Not really.”
“Thinking about the exhibit?”
He nodded. “I really need to make sure I have captured Boh, not just at rest, but the way she moves, the fluidity …”
Romana coughed “geek” into her hand and Pilot gave her the finger. His mother was talking to some other guests, and he felt a frisson of excitement go through the room. Romana sensed it too. “Guess everyone’s been waiting for this last one.”
“Guess so.”
As they filed back into the auditorium, he could not help but feel uneasy. Again, he reminded himself that it was just a performance, and he hoped he could keep it together when the ballet got to its most controversial moment.
As the curtain went up, he took in a deep breath and waited.
Chapter Twenty-One
Boh knew something was wrong as soon as Kristof made his entrance. His eyes looked wild, unfocused, and angry. She hoped it was just the character, but she knew better. To his credit, though, he played the part perfectly, and Boh was reminded of what a great dancer he once had been.
But as the murder scene approached, she began to feel disturbed. The way he touched her was rough, too rough even for this violent ballet, even for the “Teacher” obsessed with his pupil. As the finale approached, Kristof brought out the prop knife and danced around with it, Boh’s character in front of him oblivious to his intentions as he danced behind her.
The moment arrived and Boh turned, seeing the knife for the first time and cringing away as he slashed at her. The knife sliced through the air, then as he brought it back the other way, it skimmed her body, slashing across her stomach.
Oh God, no…
Pain.
Boh jerked away from him, keeping in character, but twisting away. She saw Lexie’s eyes open with shock, and then Kristof staring at her. Boh risked a glance down. Blood was spreading across the belly of her costume.
The knife was real.
Boh kept it together—she had to get the knife from Kristof’s hand or she was dead, for real. Kristof had frozen, but luckily, Lexie improvised and tore the blade away from him, her character berating him. Thank God for you, Lexie, Boh thought and played out the scene. As she spun around, she saw Pilot was out of his seat, his big eyes terrified, but subtly she shook her head at him. She “died,” and then she was being carried off the stage by Lexie and a stunned Kristof.
“Go finish the ballet,” she hissed at them, “I’m okay, I’m fine.”
How they managed to complete the ballet without breaking, Boh would never know. She quickly grabbed a wrap and put it around herself to go take her final curtain call. She felt the sting of the slash but knew it wasn’t deep, that it looked worse than it was.
Kristof was trembling violently, and as they finally left the stage, he fell to his knees, clutching Boh’s hand. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know …” he kept repeating, almost hysterical, and Boh believed him. Someone else had swapped the fake knife for a real one. Someone wanted her dead.
Liz, Nell, Celine, and Grace gathered around them, Liz calling over the paramedic on duty. She took Boh to her dressing room and made her undress, showing her the wound. Boh winced as the medic cleaned it. It was an eight-inch slash across her belly, but as she’d thought, it wasn’t deep. “You might need a couple of stitches in the deeper parts, but otherwise—”
“I honestly feel fine.”
They were interrupted by an anxious Pilot bursting into the room. His eyes went immediately to the bloody wound. “Jesus …”
“Baby, I’m fine, honestly. It’s just a flesh wound.” She could see he was about to melt down and got up to kiss him. He was shaking so badly she made him sit down, then perched on his knee as the medic smoothed butterfly stitches across her belly. “Sweetheart, breathe.”
“What the fuck happened?”
Boh sighed. “Someone switched out the prop knife for a real one.”
Pilot gaped at her. “What the actual fuck?”
The door opened and Romana and Grace came into the room. They both looked as shocked as Pilot. “You okay?”
Boh nodded. “I really am. Lexie … is she okay?”
“Fine. Shaken, but fine. Who would do this?”
Grace’s face set. “We don’t know for sure … but no one can find Serena.”
They sat in silence for a moment as the implications set in. “Where’s Kristof?”
“Believe it or not, he himself called the police. He told Liz and Nell that he had been faking his drug tests, that he believed he had been dosed with something other than coke by someone, and that he deserves to be jailed for what he has done.”
Boh gaped at Grace. “You’re kidding?”
“No. For what it’s worth, I think he’s devastated about what happened. He keeps asking how you are.”
Boh pulled her leotard up as the medic finish her work. “I want to see him.”
“No,” Pilot stood up, shaking his head. “No way.”
Boh put her hand on his face. “Baby, it’s okay, I’m fine. We need to talk to Kristof—he may know something.”
Kristof Mendelev was a broken man. What had he become? He told the police everything as Liz Secretariat listened, then, before they took him to the station for further questioning, he tendered his resignation to Liz.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “I was arrogant and I paid the price. Please, tell Boh I hope she’s okay.”
“Tell me yourself,” Boh said as she came in, flanked by a furious Pilot Scamo. Kristof nodded, relieved that she did indeed look fine as they had told him.
“Boh, I don’t know what the hell happened. I screwed up, got loaded, but I swear to you—I did not know that knife was real.” He reached out to touch her injured stomach, but Pilot gave a growl and batted his hand away.
“Don’t even fucking think about touching her ever again, asshole.”
Kristof’s shoulders slumped, and Boh put a hand on her lover’s arm. “Pilot, it’s okay. Kristof, I believe you had no intention to harm me. But we need to know who would, and despite the fact I think we all know who, I want to hear it from you.”
Kristof closed his eyes as Liz spoke up. “And I need to know whose urine you were using to pass the tests.”
“No,” Kristof looked up at Liz, his eyes calm now. “I was the one in the wrong. I virtually blackmailed the person into providing a specimen. I don’t want them punished. It’s on me.”
Liz didn’t say anything, her eyes hard. Boh sighed. “Okay, I’ll say what everyone is thinking. It was Serena, wasn’t it?”
Kristof sighed. “I can’t say for sure. But … if I was drugged with something other than coke, then yes, she is the only one who could have had the access to do it.”
“And she hates me.” Boh felt dizzy a
nd Pilot steered her into a chair. Boh bent double, dragging oxygen into her lungs. “I just didn’t know she hated me enough to want to kill me. God.”
“Boh, I’m so sorry.” This was a side of Kristof had never seen before. “Look, I’m going to tell the police everything, do what I can to help. I’m not innocent in this, by a long shot, and I’ll take what punishment they give me and then some. Liz, I’m sorry. You, Boh, and the company deserve better than me.”
After Kristof had been taken away by the police, Pilot took Boh home. Blair and Romana came with them but didn’t stay long when they saw the lovers needed time alone.
Romana hugged Boh tightly. “Love you,” she whispered. “Get some rest.”
After Pilot kissed them goodbye, he closed the door, locked it, then came to her, wrapping his arms around her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m good.” She leaned into his warmth. “I wouldn’t mind a soak in the tub. Come join me?”
Pilot brushed his lips against hers. “Just try and stop me.”
As they soaked in the warm water, Pilot washed her hair for her, massaging the conditioner into her long dark hair as she lay against his chest.
“In all of the confusion,” he said softly, “I didn’t tell you how beautifully you danced. I was blown away.”
Boh sat up, turning to smile at him. “You liked it?”
“Do you even need to ask? You’re a goddess, Boheme Dali, both on the stage and off it.”
She smiled and took his hand, pressing it against her left breast. “You have my heart, Pilot Scamo. Tonight I danced for you and you alone.”
They kissed, lips firm against the others and Pilot’s mouth curved up in a smile. “Boh?”
“Yes, baby,” she murmured against his lips and Pilot chuckled.
“If we don’t rinse your hair now, you’re going to be stuck with the conditioner in your hair because there’s no way that in a few moments we’re not going to be fucking.”
The Virgin’s Dance_Older Man Younger Woman Romance Page 12