Page 10 of When Hearts Awaken

The ghost of my past whispers in my ears and I flinch, my face leaching of color. Acid sloshes in my stomach. I want to scratch my reflection in the mirror or tattoo something across my face.What did he mean by that?

I’m no one’s little beauty.

Releasing a shaky inhale, I turn to Lisa. “Have fun with Dev. You guys deserve a night out. Practice has been brutal this week.”

She grins, no doubt thinking about her doting boyfriend, the top male dancer in the company. “Fine. Don’t work too hard, Tay.”

“I won’t. Go. Get drunk. Have crazy sex.”

Lisa blushes before leaning in and whispering, “You can have crazy sex too if you date, Tay Tay. Maybe you need to come out with us so you can actually meet guys!”

Rolling my eyes, I shoo her away before turning back to the mirror. I wish I could be like her—date men, enjoy sex, and bask in love.

But nope. Love is definitely not in the cards, but I’ll reclaim my body and sex one day.

I snap on the thin silver cuff Alexis gave me a long time ago. Somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away when she left. As much as I hate to admit it, I miss her. We were four years apart, and she was like my older sister in ballet. I looked up to her and as I grew up, she became my best friend until she betrayed me. I miss being able to trust people—to believe someone’s love for me can be unconditional.

Fly Harriet.

I watch the invisible black feathers sprout from my skin. I scrub at them, but they’re still there.

Chapter 4

I take a sipof whiskey, my mood stormy from the protesters who parked in front of the building earlier. The words written on their signs were loud and clear.

“We won’t be silenced anymore!”

“Stop hiding and make a statement!”

“Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you get to buy our voices!”

Security had to escort me into the building. Other patrons looked at me in pity. I had to stay silent at the recommendation of our PR and legal departments and our crisis management firm until we have an official press release out.

But goddamn it, I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell the masses out there I’m not protecting our disgraced CFO, that what Patterson did isn’t what the Bank of Columbia stands for.

“How’s my favorite nephew doing? Stealing the hearts of all the ladies and leaving none of them for me?”

Shaking my head, I bite down my frustration and turn away from the oak bar table at MacGregor’s Whiskey Library inside The Orchid, the most exclusive establishment in Manhattan and the pinnacle of Fleur Entertainment. It’s the place where all our dreams can be fulfilled—great food, luxurious living, concierge services, companionship of all kinds.

“Uncle Ian.” I force out a grin, pulling him in for a hug. “It’s been awhile. Sorry to bring you in for such circumstances.”

He waves me off as if it’s no bother he flew in from Paris, where he’s currently working in the top ballet company there, just to save my ass and Bank of Columbia from the scandal. But that’s who my uncle is. A good man, someone who puts his family first, a much better man than me. I nod to an attendant and they take us to a small table in the darkened corner of the lounge.

“What did I say about that? Call me Ian. The whole ‘uncle’ thing makes me feel old and ruins my bachelor image. And I was going to come visit for Christmas. What’s three months early, anyway?”

We settle into our seats and I take another look at the man who’s more like a father to me than my dad ever was. Uncle Ian looks good—his blond hair a few shades lighter than mine, eyes the same sky-blue that runs in our family. If it weren’t for the fine lines marring his forehead and the white hairs at his temples, he could probably pass as my older brother.

“ABTC. Moving back here. Are you sure?” I ask after a waitress comes and takes our orders.

“I’m ready for a new challenge after I wrap things up in Paris. Your timing works perfectly.”

Sighing, I nod. “I’m sure you saw the protesters out front. They somehow knew I was going to be here today.”

He grimaces and I continue, “I talked it over with our people. They recommend announcing our sponsorship of ABTC and kicking off an international ballet tour at the same time. All proceeds from the tour will go toward victims of sexual assault. The public needs more than the standard apology statement and we can’t pussyfoot around this scandal.”

Ian rubs the scruff on his face, appearing deep in thought. “Do you think it’ll work? This tour? I’ll help any way I can to make sure it’s the best damn tour anyone has ever seen.”

“Oh please. Having one of the top choreographers in the world as our artistic director is already a selling point. And you’re known in the dance circles for being an ally to assault victims. It’s a cause you believe in. You’re the perfect person to bring on board for this.”

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