Page 18 of Reverence

Crush? Holy hell.

Juliette almost smacked her forehead. So much for being cerebral. So much for being rational. So much for… No, she was all those things. Once she’d get over herself and over whateverpossessed her and on with her life and most especially with this conversation, because Francesca?—

“Jett?” Damn, Francesca was standing right over her, leaning on her cane, looking for all intents and purposes as if she knew exactly what Juliette had been thinking about. Or whom she had been thinking about. Damn, indeed.

“How did it go earlier, with the minister?” There. Juliette wanted to pat herself on the back. She had uttered words. Cogent words that were not out of place and entirely appropriate to this very morning. Because long, muscled, pale legs were absolutely not. Not for this morning, and not for any other time of the day.

After casting one of those meaningful, piercing looks her way, Francesca sighed.“It was fine. Vyatka is… strange.”

The speed with which Juliette lifted her face from her leg warmers was dizzying. It was also probably a dead giveaway, considering she was being watched for exactly such a tell, but when she met Francesca’s narrowed amber eyes, it was too late.

“Strange?”

Juliette knew her attempt at keeping her tone as neutral as possible had probably failed when Gabriel and Francesca exchanged knowing glances, before the cane was dropped to the floor rather unceremoniously and Francesca hopped on the windowsill closest to Juliette’s prone form.

“I have seen her dance. I have seen her rehearse. She is a live wire, a raw, abraded nerve, alive. Yet in the past twenty-four hours, I have seen no life in her. A marble statue could bleed before a life sign could be drawn from this woman. It’s like these are two different people.”

Juliette thought back to the night, the tear-stained face, the quiet thanks given to the stars, the lingering looks, and the vulnerability in those eyes. No, not a statue. Not by a long shot.

“Her strangeness aside, Jett, we are getting a new prima. And the good doctor is not entirely wrong.”

Francesca brushed a speck of lint from her silk sleeve, not meeting Juliette’s eyes.

Gabriel’s laughter was just a tiny bit forced. “Oh please, Cesca. You run this place, are you saying you are not certain of the Princess of Paris’s place at Palais Garnier? It’s all in your hands, after all.”

Juliette appreciated the attempt at levity, despite the false note of surety in her best friend’s voice, and the question.

When Francesca finally met Juliette’s eyes again, something in those golden depths was cagey, hidden, and the sense of premonition that had not left since she had first seen Katarina Vyatka plucked at her heartstrings, harder this time, with a pull that made her wince.

“My hands…” Francesca’s smile was tinged with an emotion Juliette was unable to read, but then it was gone, and the usual hauteur was back on those full lips. “Well, thank God, my hands are stronger than my legs these days. And no, nobody would dare usurp the throne of the Princess of Paris, not even the Empress of Moscow. I am so very partial to the former, you see.”

And now the eyes looking down at her were kind and teasing, and Juliette had no choice but to smile back.

“You are so very lucky I am very good, Cesca.”

The three of them laughed, Francesca’s merriment by far the loudest.

“Oh please. As if anyone would say anything if I chose the most talentless member of the corps. Nobody tells Hollywood directors whom they can feature in their films. Nobody will tell me, either. But yes, you being the best dancer to ever walk the Opera floorboards definitely helps.”

“I really wish I could take exception to that last assertion.” Gabriel pouted a bit before continuing. “But I can’t. Hence, my asking earlier why everyone is suddenly worried about Jett. Yes, her charity and savior complex is a weakness of hers. But she hasthe crown, the throne, and the talent to back them. And she has you to stage the ballets that will showcase all of the above. Plus, she has the most majestic arms in the entire city to be showcased on.” Gabriel flexed his impressive biceps and in one swift motion picked Juliette up from the floor, gathering her at his chest.

Francesca smacked said majestic arms.

“Put her down, you fool. If you damage my prima before I reveal my master plan, I will demote you to the Moulin Rouge, not just to the corps.”

“I fear that is not something that Monsieur Flanagan would consider punishment, Madame Bianchi.”

Juliette stilled in Gabriel’s arms, another tell she was certain he would notice, but the voice had materialized seemingly from thin air, even in a room full of mirrors.

The woman was ethereal, standing in the doorway in a pair of ankle trousers and a gauzy blouse. Juliette nearly lost her breath. The towel had been quite a shock to her system, but seeing Katarina Vyatka wearing her clothes, the linen that caressed her skin now lying open over the translucent expanse of the long throat… Juliette coughed and averted her eyes. Gabriel gave her a reassuring squeeze before gently putting her down. If there was any doubt that he had figured out her predicament, it was gone now. Not when he was literally propping her up with that little smirk playing on his smug face.

Juliette bit her lip and looked at Katarina again. Despite them being of a similar height, the clothes didn’t fit exactly right, and yet the way she wore them—with that debonair nonchalance of someone who knew she looked amazing even in ill-fitting castoffs—was more than making up for the incongruence.

Juliette was suddenly aware of the subject of the conversation that surely Katarina overheard. Talk about embarrassing and awkward. She closed her eyes and said a littleprayer to whichever divinity was listening that Katarina had missed the charity part.

Gabriel, perhaps having had enough of his triumphant glee, was the one to find his voice first.

“As I said yesterday, I have a feeling you and I will be close friends, Mademoiselle Vyatka. And I promise not to correct your already perfect posture, unlike Michel.”

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