Prima

by Alta Hensley

  Clara Simyoneva — she had actually come.

  My heart thundered in my chest, and I had to gulp down a thick ball of emotion lodged in my throat. I shouldn’t feel the way I did. I really shouldn’t, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. There was something about this delicate yet strong blonde beauty that had me feeling a little unstable, which was not only unprofessional but really inappropriate. I needed to stop it now, before it got in the way of her potentially joining our theater. If we could land her, I knew things would get even better for us.

  Volkov Ballet would climb yet another rung up the ladder of the best companies in the country.

  In the end, I forced myself to drag my eyes away and looked down at the clipboard in front of me. The names might as well have been written in invisible ink as I could only see the name Clara that had somehow been scrawled several times in the margins.

  Jesus, I really was a bit unhinged.

  Clearing my throat, I sat up straighter, wanting to keep my professional position of power.

  “Hello there,” Yuri called out in an overly friendly tone of voice, which really grated on me. My brother would go in like this, all nice, white teeth flashing in a huge smile, then his attitude would turn as soon as people relaxed and let down their guard. Why couldn’t he be charming all the damn time? It sure as hell would make my life easier. “I’m Yuri Volkov, your choreographer. Let’s talk through what’s going to happen today.”

  As Yuri explained, I allowed my eyes to glance over to the theater members we currently had to see they were huddling together, whispering over each other. I had no doubt they were talking about Clara since they’d been silent and acting bored until she’d entered the theater. Were they saying nice things about her? Talking about her amazing skill as a dancer? Or were they gossiping about her past?

  My guess was they were talking shit and waiting for the spectacle about to begin.

  After the prospective dancers had started warming up and preparing to learn whatever routine he’d decided on, Yuri came to sit with me in the center of the theater, far enough away from the stage to make watching easier and to remain in a bit of shadow as if that might help a hopeful ballerina feel less stress than staring into the face of those who held her future in their hands. Even before he slid into the seat, I could see he’d already dropped the smile, anger radiating from his face instead. I already had an idea of what it might be about.

  “What the hell is Clara Simyoneva doing here?” he hissed into my ear. “Do you know who she is? Do you really think we need someone like that as part of our theater? Are you a fucking idiot?”

  “Yuri,” I said as coolly as possible. “That stuff with her past happened years ago. And nothing was exactly proven. There was lots of innuendo, tons of gossip, but nothing that proved she was truly guilty of having anything to do with what happened. So, we don’t even know if she’s even guilty of a single thing, and—”

  “She’s definitely guilty of dating fucking Kosloff,” he hissed.

  I slid him a glance, wanting to tell him to grow the fuck up and stop whining like a baby, but restrained myself. There was no need to have this end with us yelling in one another’s faces in front of our dancers.

  “We don’t know what her connection with Nikolai Kosloff was. And even if she had ties to the bratva, it’s in her past. We need to give Clara a shot at an audition regardless. We don’t just need a solid dancer, we need a star. Hell, forget star. You and I both know no ballet company is worth shit if it doesn’t have a fabulous principal, and Clara was a prima ballerina whose every move was perfection. We need a dancer who doesn’t want all the fucking drama most creative people can’t seem to function without.”

  Yuri rolled his eyes. “And you don’t think what happened was drama?”

  I could roll my eyes as well as he could. “What I’m saying is if you’d pull your head out of your judgmental ass and see around the bullshit and rumors, you’ll notice she was an amazing dancer. A shining star who was completely adored. Yes, she made a few mistakes, and for some reason made the choice to walk away. That’s all. A choice I have no doubt she’s regretted since the moment she took off her tutu.”

  My solid arguments — most of which were assumptions on my behalf — were purely for the sake of Volkov Ballet. During my research, I watched some videos of Clara in her various roles, and she really was incredible. If any of that talent was still there, then she was exactly what we needed.

  “Give her a chance. If she isn’t the best, then that’s fine, and I’ll concede you were right. But if she is, I really think we need to give her a shot. My gut tells me Clara might be the one who can take Volkov Ballet to the next level.”

  Yuri’s eyes swerved back to the stage where the dancers were warming up, Clara among them, and he sent me a sharp nod. “Fine,” he snapped. “I’ll give her a chance. But I’ll be harder on her than all of the others, purely because I think she’ll be a PR nightmare.”

  I couldn’t help but agree with that fact. Taking on someone with such a tarnished reputation would be really hard work, but I instinctively felt like she’d be worth it all. As the son of a famous ballerina, I had every belief Clara would bring a grace and beauty to our stage unsurpassed by any before her. As the man responsible for the future of our company, I had the impression Clara would bring in so much money, even Yuri couldn’t bitch in the end.

  4

  Alek

  When the auditions were complete, there was no denying the outcome from anyone. Clara had completely overshadowed every single dancer. It was as if every other dancer had two left feet in comparison. The moment she’d started from stage left and pirouetted nonstop across the entire length of the floor, I knew it was over.

  The woman moved like a damn goddess.

  By the time Clara performed a series of leaps, practically hanging in midair as if defying gravity, every finger extended, each muscle defined in a split that screamed impossible, I believed every other soul auditioning knew it as well.

  I tried not to laugh at the way the other dancers clearly didn’t want to step onto the stage with the woman. I couldn’t blame them. Clara dominated. Even after four years, and not at her best, the woman was without a doubt a prima ballerina. I could see why she was nicknamed Prima. She moved with a delicacy that made her seem to float on air and yet had the strength necessary to hold positions that stressed muscles. Her flexibility, her speed, her poses, her footwork, the snap of her head as she whipped in spins so fast she became a blur made the woman nearly untouchable.

  And her body… her body.

  Even with every inch of her body glistening with sweat, her beauty was enhanced by the perfect contours of muscles flexing beneath flawless skin. The impossible circumference of her waist had me swearing I could wrap my hands around her and still have room to spare. Legs that were long, lean and yet incredibly strong, had every woman in the theater envious and every male who preferred their partners of the female gender wanting to be paired with her if only to lift her higher into the spotlight.

  I would be a damn liar if I didn’t admit to fantasizing for a few moments what exactly was hidden beneath the leotard she wore. Granted, the very nature of Spandex meant the fabric clung to her body, but I was practically salivating with the need to peel off the garment and see for myself how perfect I knew the rest of her body to be.

  Mouthwatering.

  The woman was absolutely, without a doubt, a specimen of female perfection.

  Even with all of Yuri’s arguments, I could tell he was impressed by the way Clara performed. He knew as well as I did Clara was exactly what we needed for the theater and to enhance our reputation that we produced award-winning ballets. I hadn’t seen a dancer with so much raw potential mixed with years of training inside Volkov Ballet since my mother had been alive. The famous Nadia Volkova would have been honored to train Clara Simyoneva. I absolutely knew it.

  “So…” I asked Yuri, not even bothering to hide my taunting tone. “Who do yo
u think is best?”

  He gave me a look, one suggesting he really didn’t want to admit he had been wrong. My brother wasn’t great at conceding to anyone, and, for a split second, I had the sinking feeling he might choose someone else just to spite me.

  “Give Simyoneva a contract,” he growled, refusing to make eye contact with me as he said the words. “But if she fucks up, and it affects Volkov Ballet and our family name, that’s all on you.”

  I wasn’t surprised by Yuri’s response. When my brother did something wrong, it was due to somebody else fucking up. But if I took a risk, that was all on my shoulders.

  Still, I was pretty sure Clara would be worth it. I oddly had full confidence in her. There was no way someone could have so much, and fall so far from grace, without learning anything.

  In the interview Baker did on her, I read she went to rehab to “beat her demons.” And from what I’d seen, I had no choice but to believe she’d not only beaten them, but slayed every single one.

  Plus, if I thought back to four years ago, when I was twenty-eight years old, I’d been a completely different person back then. I’d grown up a whole lot since, and I was certain Clara must have too.

  “I understand,” I told Yuri seriously. “But it’ll be fine. You can trust me to handle it… to handle her.”

  I let out a long sigh of relief as I watched my brother go down to have a talk with the dancers. He would take the newbies aside and tell those who hadn’t made it they weren’t going to be a part of the theater, probably asking them to come back next time Volkov Ballet opened up auditions, leaving the good news to me.

  I got to offer Clara her second chance at life.

  I hoped she grabbed onto it and wouldn’t fuck it up.

  There was no denying I was still fearful Clara might shut me down when she was faced with an official offer. She might have only come to test the waters. Hell, she might have come just to prove me wrong about anyone younger dancing rings around her. She might not actually want to get back into it seriously, especially when I remembered what she’d said about her grandmother.

  Clara had said her grandmother relied on her around the clock, which was a real concern. Home healthcare workers who could come in on a daily basis weren’t the problem. Finding someone who would be willing to stay twenty-four seven for weeks or even months if Clara was on the road for long periods of time performing and doing other promotional engagements might prove to be far more difficult. Most choreographers, managers, theater owners, and promoters weren’t exactly concerned with their dancers’ personal lives — since ballet was to become your entire life — but I always tried to make allowances. It was my belief dancers would perform better if their minds were as fully engaged as their bodies and they weren’t distracted by issues going on at home.

  Eventually, after I watched most of the rejected dancers head offstage, I realized I couldn’t actually hold in the good news any longer. Since Yuri was delivering the bad news now, I figured it was time for some positive energy.

  I approached where Clara stood near the curtain on stage right wiping the sweat off her face with a towel and grabbed hold of her arm. I was taken aback as a jolt of electricity coursed through me when our skin connected.

  “Clara, may I have a word?”

  “Yes, of course.” She half smiled at me, causing my blood pressure to spike for a far more pleasant reason than it had earlier. She was so fucking gorgeous even with beads of sweat darkening the blonde curls at her hairline.

  We stood away from the rest of the dancers lingering or still waiting to hear their fate from Yuri. Her body was a little too close to mine, and, for a split second, I worried she could see the way my pants were beginning to tent from simply holding her damn arm. If she noticed I was attracted to her, would that put her off? Dropping her arm, I reminded myself nothing could ever happen between us, not while we were working together… if she accepted that was.

  “I want to say congratulations. You danced beautifully today.” An all too brief smile appeared before sliding away as she nodded, yet remained silent, not giving me any indication of where her mind was at. “Yuri and I both agreed you’re the best choice for us. So, if you would like to, we would love to offer you a contract to be part of Volkov Ballet. We have no doubt we can train you to become our reigning principal dancer.”

  “Really?” She looked at me skeptically. “Are you serious?”

  It was then it hit me how deeply scarred by her past she was. She could bluster all she wanted, but she really assumed that because of her mistakes, we wouldn’t sign her despite the fact she’d clearly outdanced every single other person on the stage. That made my heart go out to her. I wanted to reach out and hug her, hold her close to me… but, of course, I couldn’t.

  Not only that, but I was not sure how helpful and comforting my huge frame would be compared to her tiny one. I was tall and broad. There was too much of me. I’d likely swallow her whole. The thought of swallowing had me thinking of running my tongue along every inch of her flesh and that had me remembering the impossible spread of the split she’d done midair, which, of course, had me visualizing what lay between those split legs and had my cock twitching.

  Stop it, I warned myself. Keep your attention on business, for crying out loud.

  “Of course, we would love for you to be part of our theater. We have big plans for you.”

  “I don’t think so. I’m not sure my dancing for you is the best choice for anyone.”

  “I do,” I countered.

  She paused for a moment, looking at me but not really focused. She seemed distracted. “I’m fucked up,” she finally said softly. “Far beyond what you can imagine. All the dark demons inside me oozed out the cracks, and they finally became enough I fucked up my entire life. I couldn’t keep those demons inside any longer. The cracks became too large.”

  “And yet you didn’t break completely,” I countered softly. “Did you ever for a second stop and think maybe there’s good that can come from those cracks as well?”

  Clara shook her head and sighed. “Go away. You can’t fix me.”

  “Hell, I don’t want to fix you. I’m cool with your cracks. In fact, I see something more.”

  “There’s nothing more.”

  “Like the Golden Buddha,” I began, not giving a fuck if she thought I was insane. I tried hard to not show the nerd, fact-loving, history buff side of me most of the time, but now seemed like a crucial time to reveal it. “Several hundred years ago, Tibetan monks were soon to be under attack by the Burmese army. Their pride and joy was a pure golden Buddha statue, and they wanted to protect it. So, knowing they couldn’t fight off the powerful army that outnumbered them, they covered the Buddha in clay to conceal its value. All the monks died in the attack, but the clay Buddha — worthless in the eyes of the invaders — remained. It wasn’t until 1957 that someone noticed a crack in the old clay Buddha. Golden light emerged from the dirty, dark crack revealing there was so much more beneath the surface. When they chipped away at all the filth, they discovered a pure gold statue — a priceless statue.” I paused to take a breath and to see if I had completely lost Clara in my story. When I saw I still had her full attention, I added, “I think you are that Golden Buddha. I see the golden light in the cracks the demons once seeped from. Beneath all that filth is a priceless prima ballerina.”

  She stared at me, studying my face. Looking for sincerity possibly? But she didn’t argue or counter my words. She simply stared at me in silence.

  “So, what I’m saying,” I continued on, “is that years and years of dirt and mud piled on you does not change what truly is underneath. You just have to chip away at the clay.” I gave a shrug and a grin. “My point being that the Volkov Ballet, my brother Yuri as your choreographer, and I help you do that. I really think we can make you the dancer you once were.” When she still looked unconvinced, I said with all the sincerity I had. “Clara, I see a beautiful ballerina bathed in that gold light. I swear to you I do.�
��

  She gave me a heart-stopping smile and stared into my eyes for a beat too long. “That’s a beautiful story, but I don’t know what it has to do with me or what you want me to say.”

  I want you to fucking say yes! I wanted to yell, but I didn’t.

  I forced myself to remain calm and in control, even as I switched tactics. “Well, if you decide you do want to stop attending the pity party you seem damn positive is all the fun you’re allowed to have for the rest of your life, come and join me. I’ll be in the office when you’ve showered and changed. You should come sign the contract then.” I began to move away but paused to add, “But, Clara, I’m not going to beg, and I’m not going to pressure you anymore. This is your life and your choice.” I wanted to add, don’t fuck it up, but I managed to restrain myself.

  I turned around and walked away at that moment before I could get too lost in her gaze. I hoped I had said enough, and she would meet me in the office and accept my offer.

  All I could do now was wait. Wait for who I hoped would become my prima ballerina.

  5

  Clara

  I knew there was a big smile on my face as I headed backstage to get changed, no matter how hard I tried to conceal it. I was doing my best to appear nonchalant, but I’d never been very good in the role of Miss Calm, Cool, and Collected. I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact Alek had told me I’d been accepted to join Volkov Ballet and train as their principal ballerina, and I didn’t know what to think. I hadn’t come to the audition with the intention of being offered a contract.

  Honestly, I didn’t really know why I came.

  As I pushed through a door to find a large dressing room, I heard the voice of that annoying little devil come through loud and clear.

  So, you came because you… what? Were in the neighborhood? Needed the exercise? Get real, girlfriend. You came because the man pushed your buttons and you wanted to prove you still have skills. Lie to everyone else but not to yourself.