Page 34 of When Hearts Awaken

It was my dream—our dream—for me to be part of this institution, for me to become one of those elegant ballerinas to inspire the next generation of dancers.

It wasmyway of contributing to the family,myway of taking us out of poverty.

And now, I’m here—a soloist, the second highest ranking under the principal dancer. I’m an Anderson with a trust fund. Mom isn’t here anymore, but this dream with her…this dream is still alive.

This dream is all I have left, and it’s well within reach.

But I feel this cavernous hollow in my chest I can’t seem to fill.

A loud noise interrupts my morose thoughts. Turning around, I bite back a groan when I see the familiar, towering silhouette of Charles getting out of a town car with two other businessmen, including the balding man with lecherous eyes I remember from our first meeting at the studio.

“What’s one pussy when I can get two, you know?” The balding creep clasps his meaty hand on Charles and laughs at his own joke.Still as gross as before, I see.

“You must be an HR nightmare, John.” The other lanky man in a suit chuckles at his friend’s lewd comment. These two men are older than Dad and probably have children my age.

Revulsion churns through me and I throw up a little inside. But I find my attention riveted not on dumb and dumber, but on the imposing man whose hair gleams like molten gold—an archangel descending on humankind.

Charles smirks, slapping his hand on John’s shoulder, his low laughter sending shivers up my spine. But something about his grin seems forced. “As long as all parties are happy, who am I to judge?” He winks and the men laugh some more.

Ugh. Disgusting pigs. Reason one hundred and one why I hate Charles Vaughn and everything he stands for—entitled rich assholes. Except for my brothers and Steven, I haven’t met one who hasn’t disappointed me yet.

I must’ve made a noise because Charles suddenly turns toward me, his eyes sharpening before narrowing. And that’s when I see it—the pulse hammering across his temple, the stiff tension in his shoulders which I normally don’t see when he’s with my siblings.

The fake-ass smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.Huh. He’s hiding behind his mask…again.

The men quiet, clearly wondering how much I’ve overheard, and slowly make their way toward me.

“Taylor, you remember our sponsors, John Finkle and Chris Larkey from Legions Capital,” Charles murmurs when they stop a few feet before me.

John bares his teeth as his eyes rove over my face, then down my body like he’s undressing me in front of him.

I clench my hands and fight the urge to run away. A charring heat burns up my insides.

How dare they disrespect me this way?

“My eyes are up here, gentlemen,” I grind out. “Plenty of women don’t appreciate your attentions.”

John’s eyes widen and his buddy huffs out a disgruntled breath. No doubt they aren’t used to women calling them out on their BS.

“You b—” John scowls and steps toward me.

I flinch and curse myself for the automatic reaction when Charles clamps a hand on John’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the fabric.

“John was just admiring your outfit today—all black ensemble on a summer night, quite the choice, don’t you think? Embodying the black swan already, Ms. Anderson?”

My eyebrow arches at him dropping the first half of my last name, but Charles doesn’t look at me. Instead, he’s doling out another fake smile to John, which is incongruous with how white his knuckles are on the man’s shoulder.

The man is a walking contradiction.

“Anderson?” John asks.

Charles slowly relaxes his grip, letting his hand drop to his side. I see him discreetly flex his fingers before responding, “Yes. Fleur Entertainment’s Andersons. Taylor is Linus’s youngest daughter. She’s the understudy for the Odette and Odile roles for the tour.”

The men blanch at that revelation. I guess there are advantages of being an Anderson other than the money. No one wants to cross my family, especially when they own half the city.

“W-Why didn’t you say so earlier, Charles?” Chris says. “We weren’t aware the Andersons had a dancer in the family.”

“An obvious oversight on my part,” Charles comments wryly, his lips tilted in that annoying smirk again. “Why don’t you head on inside? Sir Ian’s waiting. I’ll be there shortly.”

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