Page 66 of Endless Love

THIRTY-ONE

Willow

Pop wasn’t feeling well the next morning and I urged him to stay in bed. Trudging down to the basement last night and then back up two flights of stairs to our apartment must have taken a toll on him. I felt guilty that I’d woken him up. Despite a protest, he agreed to rest upstairs while I minded the store with the help of his loyal crew.

As always, Saturday business was brisk. People came in early to pick up lox and bagels for Sunday morning brunch, and throughout the day, families frequented the restaurant for our special weekend lunch. I was playing hostess, taking care of the long line of regulars waiting to get seated.

Despite how busy I was, I couldn’t get last night out of my mind. My encounter with Gustave haunted me as much as my need to dance. I couldn’t get The Firebird music out of my head. It was in my bloodstream, in my bones, and in every cell of my being. And in my heart and in my soul. Breathing and reliving it. While I plastered a smile on my face as I greeted customers, inside my guts were twisting. And that wasn’t the only thing that had my stomach in knots.

It was late afternoon, and I hadn’t heard from Ryan. Admittedly, last night ended badly. To be honest, it was a disaster. I owed him an explanation. I had to let him know how my unexpected encounter with Gustave affected me and assure him that there was nothing between us. That my heart belonged only to one man—to him. Ryan Madewell. With business calming down a little until the dinner crowd came in, I decided to call him. No answer. It went straight to his voicemail. Rather than leaving a message, I ended the call and texted him instead.

Are you okay? I need to see you. xo

As I typed the letters, a chill swept over me. Maybe he didn’t want to see me anymore. That whatever we had was over. Then, my back to the front door, a familiar tap, tap, tap, tap resounded in my ears, each tap getting closer and louder.

“Oiseau…”

Almost dropping my cell phone, I whipped around. Gustave! My mouth formed an “O” and my eyes widened. He was wearing pleated black wool slacks, a tight black pullover, and expensive black leather loafers with no socks—his uniform. The one he always wore at practices and rehearsals. The manic look in his eyes frightened me and I inwardly shuddered.

“G-Gustave. What are you doing here?”

Without warning, he pulled me into him, squeezing my shoulders. His hot breath licked my cheeks like flames. “I need you back…”

“Gustave, let go of me.” He tightened his grip, relentless desire darkening his eyes.

“I need you to dance.”

Oh, God. He wanted me back. My heart hammering, I turned my face away from him. With a pinch of my jaw, he jerked my head forward.

“P-please, Gustave. I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’m ready. I need more time.”

His fiery gaze burnt a hole in mine, holding me captive. “There is no time. I need you to dance for me…tonight at Lincoln Center.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mira sprained her ankle during the rehearsal. She can’t perform.”

“W-what about Frederica or Odette?”

“Frederica is playing the part of the lead princess.” Then, he snorted. “And Odette dances like a pathetic sparrow.”

My emotions in a whirlwind, I didn’t know what to say. I chewed my lip. I was torn, fractured. Part of me wanted to scream out yes while the other part of me wanted to run as far away as possible. The push and pull was excruciating.

He gripped me tighter; his gaze grew fiercer. “Only you, my petite oiseau, can dance the part. Only you can be The Firebird.”

He impatiently tapped his cane, the taps synchronizing with my rapid heartbeats. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. I stood as still as a statue, paralyzed, afraid to move or say a word. My heartbeat accelerated as he moved in closer to me, his lips a breath away.

“Willow, you must do it for me. The company is facing bankruptcy. Hundreds of thousands of dollars in funding are contingent on tonight’s performance. It’s the only thing that will save us. I shall not leave until you say yes.”

And then, he began to nibble my neck. His wet kisses sent a shiver down my spine.

My muscles clenching, I squeezed my eyes shut. “Please, Gustave. Don’t taunt me like this.”

He ignored my plea. He flicked the area behind my ear before sucking the lobe.

“You belong on the stage, my oiseau, not here.”

“Please, Gustave. Let me think about it.” Maybe I could reason with him, though any form of rational thinking was flying out the door. Fiddling with the ballet slipper charm around my neck, I felt myself giving in to the magical power Gustave had over me. Submitting to him. What I’d always done.

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