Prima

by Alta Hensley

  Green eyes lifted to meet mine, and I could see the pain reflected in their depths. Remembering my research into her life, it was easy to imagine her informing me she was extremely familiar with hell. Yet, within the time it took her to blink, the pain disappeared and a resolve took its place.

  “Are you saying you run a corrupt company or are dishonest with those who dance for you?”

  The question took me aback for a moment, but I supposed I’d stepped right into that line of questioning.

  “Not at all. We might be demanding of our dancers, but we pride ourselves on being totally honest.” Reaching down without losing eye contact, I plucked the pen from the top sheet and nodded. “And being principled means I need to know you’ve read every page and understand what the content of the contract entails.” Sitting back, I added, “Would you like something to drink while you read?”

  “No, I’m fine,” she said, picking up the contract and dropping her eyes to scan the words that would bind her to the Volkov Ballet for the foreseeable future.

  While she read, I rose and moved across the room to a mini-fridge. After grabbing two bottles of water, I returned to my desk, set my bottle down on a coaster, opened the second, and held it out. Without looking up, she reached for it and moved it to her lips. I grinned as she downed half the contents before lowering the bottle and looking at it as if perplexed at how it had gotten into her hand. I didn’t tease her, simply sat down and drank mine far slower, content to watch the beauty’s lips move as she silently read to herself. My cock instantly twitched as I imagined those lips wrapped around it, the tip of her tongue that occasionally licked the surface of her bottom lip laving up and down my rigid shaft instead. She flipped the first page over to begin reading the second. I wasn’t surprised when after reading the last paragraph on the final page, she turned the sheets back, finished her bottle of water and then read through the entire document again. Like I’d thought, she was a smart woman.

  After she was done, she looked up.

  “Any questions?” I asked.

  “Not really,” she said nonchalantly but the brief hesitation told me she did have a few.

  “Honesty goes both ways,” I said, nodding toward the papers. “You might not be a virgin in all things legal, but I’d bet my life you’ve not signed a contract that includes some of the demands we feel are necessary to protect our company.” I wasn’t lying. Yuri might have agreed to offer her a chance, but he wasn’t fool enough or trusting enough to give her a deal without covering his ass.

  “What sort of penalties are you talking about?” she finally asked, and I nodded.

  The question told me she had read the paragraphs in those pages that had to let her know we weren’t ignorant of her past regardless of how much we wanted her to join us. If she signed, she opened herself up to random drug tests and would pay penalties for various infractions of rules we would often test.

  “The exact nature remains to be determined,” I said as thoughts of penalties no legal system would condone flooded into my head.

  “Are you talking about loss of pay or what?”

  Nodding, I grabbed onto that suggestion like a puppy pouncing onto a chew toy. “Sure, that’s one example. Extended practice hours, community appearances to promote the company even though I know you’ve kept yourself out of the limelight ever since you walked away. By the way, I will want to hear the true story about what happened—”

  “Google it,” she said abruptly, fingers gripping the contract so hard the pages rustled. Looking down, she seemed to realize she’d been a bit rude and smoothed out the sheets. “I’m sorry. I’ve learned it doesn’t matter what the truth is… people believe what they want to believe.”

  “I’m not just people,” I said. “I’m the man who is offering you a chance to give those people the middle finger and show the world they’ve been wrong about you.”

  Her head rose slowly, her gaze even slower to meet mine. “Okay.”

  “You’re good with everything, then?” I asked, and, when she nodded, I held out the pen.

  I didn’t mention the fact her hand was trembling as she took it and signed the contract. I also didn’t let her know I couldn’t believe she was actually doing so. Those papers would change her life. She’d be back in the spotlight, but at a price I could only hope she was capable of paying. It would be a lot of hard work, but if there was anyone strong enough to do what was required to regain the life she’d been robbed of, I truly believed Clara was that person.

  Once she signed the contract, she laid it and the pen down on the desk and pushed both toward me almost as if to reassure she couldn’t easily reach out and grab it to rip it in two before the ink had fully dried. I removed the temptation by opening my middle drawer and casually sliding the document into it.

  “Welcome to the Volkov Ballet,” I said, closing the drawer and then moving around my desk to offer her my hand.

  Gold flecks glittered in a sea of green, the change of emotions from the uncertainty of her future to surprise at finding herself accepting the challenge of beginning all over again moved like waves within the depths of her expression. Only when the jade hue grew darker did I realize any pretense of shaking her hand had ended and, instead, I was holding it, the pad of my thumb brushing along the delicate bones of her fingers. When she dropped her eyes to our joined hands and then gave a little tug, I reluctantly released her hand.

  “Anything else you’d like to discuss now that the theater is your new home?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back against the desk.

  She didn’t answer immediately but took a few moments to glance around the room, looking at a wall where items telling the history of the Volkov were displayed. Her gaze seemed to linger on one: a painting of my mother standing centerstage of one of the most recognizable theaters in the world, the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow, Russia. Its opulence included six tiers of seats and a golden arch framing the box where members of the imperial families had been watching those lucky enough to grace the stage since the theater’s completion in 1776. Though fires, wars, and rebellion had attempted to take the theater from Russia, it had been rebuilt time and time again.

  “So, how did you get into running this theater?” she asked. “I mean, I know your mother started the company when she retired from dancing but did you and your brother take over because you wanted to or because you felt… I don’t know, some type of duty to continue your mother’s legacy?”

  I couldn’t tell if she was just making conversation or was truly interested, but when she cocked her head to the side, the ponytail swaying to brush against her shoulder, I decided it didn’t really matter. I’d discuss recipes if it kept her seated before me.

  “Ballet is in my blood. I’ve always loved the discipline, the music, the beauty, the art of it all,” I said without a hint of embarrassment. “My brother, my mother, and I have lived and breathed ballet for as long as I can remember. Ballet wasn’t only part of my mother’s life, but our father’s as well before he… before he died.”

  “Really?” Her tone indicated surprise. “I mean I have always known who your mother was,” she said, her eyes flicking back to the painting. “Anyone who knows even the slightest thing about ballet knows she was a famous ballerina, but I’ve never heard of her husband being a part of the ballet scene.”

  “He was killed in an accident when I was thirteen, leaving my mother to raise two sons on her own. But before he died, they’d been discussing opening their own company. My father was a powerhouse of a man and had a keen sense of the business side of the ballet. I strive to be half the man he was.”

  “She and your father did a great job. I think every little girl grows up wishing someday she will be part of a theater like Volkov Ballet. It’s infamous.”

  I didn’t know what the hell was going on here, but I could feel an intense connection growing between us. This girl was not only beautiful, we both had a love for a craft I’d never shared with a female before. She remind
ed me of my mother in a way.

  “The fact I’m here, signing on to be part of it, is pretty incredible. It’s a shame your mother died before I could meet her. My babushka was a huge fan as well. She told me once she’d been shocked when Nadia retired and left Russia as she’d been so revered as a former dancer of the Bolshoi Ballet.”

  “My mother didn’t exactly have a choice. Well, not in the sense that word generally means. When our father died, she had no choice but to get out of Russia and start a new life.”

  “I can understand that, but why immigrate all the way to the United States? She was a famous ballerina. A treasure of Russia. Surely, she had friends and family who would have helped her. Taking her sons halfway across the world…” Pausing, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. I know it’s selfish to say, but I’m glad she did. Russia’s loss is America’s and my gain.”

  She was either truly naïve or a consummate actress. I took a moment as I considered exactly how much to share. I knew she had dated Nikolai Kosloff, but how much did she truly know about him, about his lifestyle? The man didn’t exactly have a life one could read like an open book, not if he wanted to survive in the violent world of the Russian mafia.

  Remembering a photo of Clara looking up at the man with adoration in her eyes, I decided I’d said enough. My life, Yuri’s life, and the choices my mother had been forced to make were private.

  “Let’s leave it with Yuri and I were young enough to consider it an adventure and old enough to be grateful she built a life and a place we all could feel safe… one we could all share together.”

  Fuck! I’d said far more than I’d meant to. Our eyes met, and I held her gaze for a little too long all over again. I couldn’t seem to resist her, which was a nightmare and one Yuri would flip out over learning about. I had to stop it, and I needed to stop it right now. It was past time for this little tête-à-tête to end.

  Pushing away from the desk, I straightened. “I should…” I glanced at my watch, acting as if I hadn’t realized the time. “I’ve got another meeting, but I’ll expect you tomorrow.”

  “Sure, um, I’m looking forward to it,” she said, looking as frazzled as I felt.

  I nodded and moved back around to my chair. “Yuri will set your training schedule tomorrow. Expect it to be brutal.”

  Her ponytail bobbed again. “That’s good. I mean… despite the classes I teach, today’s audition let me know my ass is out of shape.”

  I didn’t mention the fact I thought she was in perfect shape. Instead, I opened the drawer, pulled out a sheaf of papers, and slid them across the desk. “I took the liberty of putting together a listing of some home healthcare workers. You’ll find reviews for all of them included with photos and contact information.”

  She reached for the packet. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wanted to,” I assured her. “You’ll find that unlike a great number of places, we feel being helpful and understanding toward those who contract with us is beneficial for everyone involved. Undue stress is the cause of many an injury, and we want our dancers relaxed and happy. It makes for a far better relationship, don’t you agree?”

  She looked at me for a long moment and then nodded. “I suppose. Thanks for… for doing this. I’ll be here bright and early.”

  “You’re welcome. See that you are”—dipping into the drawer again, I pulled out the contract as a visual reminder—“unless, of course, you’re anxious to discover exactly what sort of penalties you’ll be expected to pay.”

  Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed but she nodded. “Yes… I mean, no… I mean… I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, standing and practically running to the door.

  Damn, even embarrassment looked good on her. As had that perfectly heart-shaped ass when she’d bent over to grab the strap of her bag.

  Clara

  I forced myself to not look back, no matter how badly I wanted to. Instead, I rushed from the theater as quickly as I could. I slid into my car and took a deep breath once I’d slammed the door shut.

  My heart raced and, though I considered blaming it on the exertion of the day, I knew that would have been a lie. I was honest enough to admit my pulse jumped around like some sort of demented bunny from being accepted into the company and being offered a contract by the incredible man who was Alek Volkov.

  Pulling out my phone, I called my grandmother to tell her the good news.

  “I got in!” I yelled as soon as she picked up, not even giving her the chance to say anything. “I went to the audition, and Volkov Ballet signed me! They think I have a chance of becoming a lead dancer for them.”

  “Child,” my grandmother said in a tone that told me she was smiling ear to ear, “they’d have to be fools not to. Congratulations. That’s incredible news.”

  “I know. I can’t wait—”

  “And you’ll get to be around that very handsome man a lot more, too,” she continued, reiterating the words I’d spoken out loud by mistake during one of our many conversations on the topic before I left to audition. “I just hope you manage to keep your head on the actual dancing.”

  There was something in her voice, something that had me worried. Did she think I did this to get closer to Alek? That wasn’t the case at all. Sure, he was gorgeous, and he made my head spin, but this had nothing to do with him. This was all about the future; I hadn’t even realized I wanted to dance again. Once I’d walked away from ballet, I’d turned my back on it, thinking I would never go back. The problem was, I hadn’t realized how unhappy that was going to make me.

  Now, I had the potential to be happy once more. I had to hope I could juggle the rest of my life around it. Glancing at the sheets I held in my hand, I smiled. Alek had even gone through the effort of pulling together information he’d known I’d need in order to feel comfortable leaving my babushka in order to do this. All that was left for me to do was not screw things up again. With a rather strangled-sounding laugh, I shook my head… right, like that was going to be a piece of cake.

  7

  Alek

  It’s just a welcome present, I thought, clutching the shoes tightly between my fingers. I would have done the same for any new member to the theater. But I already knew that wasn’t true. Quite a few dancers had joined the company since I’d been running it, and I hadn’t gone out of my way to do anything special for a single one of them.

  That didn’t mean it had to mean something though. It was a small token of how happy Volkov Ballet was to have Prima. There was certainly no extra meaning there.

  But would she see it that way? All of a sudden, doubt coursed through me. Would Clara see this gift as a, “welcome to the theater” gesture or as something that held some hidden meaning?

  Forget that. What would Yuri think if he found out? Knowing my brother, I could easily picture him arching his eyebrow and stating without actually speaking a single fucking word that he knew I was attracted to the one woman he’d practically been ready to forbid me to even hire, much less draw her into our lives.

  To hell with Yuri. He might be in charge of the choreography, but he wasn’t in charge of me. It didn’t matter what he thought, but it did matter what Clara would think. For a second, I held the pink satin shoes out in front of me, examining them, trying to see what she could misconstrue from the gift, before changing my mind all over again. It was only a pair of shoes for fuck’s sake. She might take the gift for what it was — a meaningless item worn by every single female dancer from the time they bought their first pair of ballerina slippers. I was definitely overthinking this.

  I walked down into the main room to try and catch Clara at the end of her first rehearsal as an official member of the theater to give the welcome gift to her. A small part of me also wanted to see if she was all right, and if she was being treated well by the other dancers.

  I passed Yuri in the hallway giving Bella an ass chewing for being a bitch to Clara in the dressing room. He’d told me about the incid
ent and had seemed surprised to discover Clara hadn’t said a word about it when we’d met to go over her contract. I normally tried to tone Yuri down, but, this time, I wanted every dancer in the company to know there would be consequences if they fucked with Clara. I didn’t want her to go through a real life upheaval to get back into the craft she loved, just to find herself faced with all kinds of crazy bullshit from inside the theater.

  Once it became known she’d returned to the ballet, she would have to face it from the outside world, as it was. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot I could do about that fact, however much I wanted to. But I hated drama and didn’t want shit within the theater. Not only would that affect everyone’s mindset, it might push Clara away before she’d really had the time to settle back in.

  But as I entered the theater, I quickly realized I was too late. The rehearsal was already over, and most of the dancers had dispersed.

  I walked toward the dressing room, smiling and acknowledging the others as they filed out, freshly showered and dressed. Because I was pretty sure I’d seen every other person, except for Clara, I had no hesitation with walking in there to see her. If everyone else was dressed, then she must be as well. And to catch her alone was absolutely the best way for me to do this.

  I grinned as I imagined how her face might light up when she saw the shoes. They were like the ones she’d worn during her audition, though these were definitely far newer, the pink satin unblemished by wear and tear, the ribbons pristine and unfrayed waiting to be wrapped around strong, slim ankles that led to firm slender calves that led to thighs that begged to be… whoa, I truly needed to stop with the visual aids. They were shoes, not a piece of sexy lingerie.