Page 110 of Bound By Hate (Born in Blood)

I take my ballet shoes out of my backpack and slip them on. I’m wearing a loose top and leggings, which are slim enough to dance in, fortunately.

Misha crosses his arms, frowning as I get into position. Then he grabs a remote and turns on music. It’s a song I know, at least.

With a deep breath, I begin.

I start simple, not taking it too hard, but it quickly becomes apparent Misha is not impressed. He keeps checking his watch and sighing.

So, I begin to spin and jump. He looks back at me, more interest in his eyes. This is it. I can do it. I’ll be able to dance again. I’ll be perfect again.

I’ll make my father proud.

I spin on pointe faster and faster until I land in the correct position. I bow for him, my heart beating fast.

I wait in my bowed position as silence fills the room. Then he begins to clap. Slowly, I stand back up. “How was that?” I ask.

“You are good.” My heart swells under his compliment. “But not great.” My heart immediately deflates.

“What … I’m not good enough?”

“Not for my company. You’re too unsteady on your feet. I heard about your accident. You’re just not good enough.”

“Am I too fat? Do I need to lose weight?”

“No. Your body is fine. You’re just not good enough anymore. Now, I’m a busy man. You may leave.” He turns away and grabs his phone, directing all his attention to it.

I stumble back. Why am I not good enough? I’m not good enough for anybody. Not my father or my mother. Gleb sold me because he couldn’t stand me. Boris wanted to kill me and marry my sisters instead because of my attitude.

I have no one.

I quickly take off my ballet shoes and practically run from the dance studio, keeping my tears at bay. They overflow from my eyes the moment I’m out of the studio. Slumping against the side of the building, I don’t stop crying until I have no more tears to give.

“Upset?”

I jerk up when I hear a man’s voice. I quickly wipe my face and stare at the man before me.

Damien.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I was driving by and saw you. I wondered why the famed Viktoriya Morozova was crying on the sidewalk.”

“Why are you talking to me? You don’t have the right. Not after how you rudely rejected me.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I find it curious you think I rejected you when I’d never met you before, yet you expected me to marry you anyway.”

I flush. “I?—”

He cuts me off. “I just think I need time to get to know a woman first before I offer up my hand in marriage. Your ego has gotten you into trouble. Maybe it’s time to let it go.”

His words fill me with a rage I haven’t felt since I was auctioned off. I storm right up to him and slap him across the face. “Maybe you shouldn’t offer advice when I didn’t ask for it.”

Damien rubs his cheek, looking down at me with curiosity. “You’re going to regret doing that one day, Viktoriya. Just you wait.” With one final look at me, he returns to his car and drives away.

I stand there, fuming. I will never be free of these Bratva men who think they can tell me what to do. Even Aleksander thinks he can do that.

I just want my freedom, whatever that means. If I’m being honest, I want freedom in my mind. I don’t want to be tormented by my desire to dance again. By my feelings for Aleksander.

I’m breaking down, and there’s no one there to save me.

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