Page 38 of When Hearts Awaken

She’s exquisitely perfect.

I watch with bated breath as Bethany and Dev move together—the devastated Odette and her prince in the last moments before their deaths. Tchaikovsky’s famous melody is steeped in sorrow, the haunted notes echoing in the darkened stage as the lone spotlight shines on the tragic couple.

They reach for each other—a series of pirouettes and lifts—their movements restrained, yet desperate at the same time.

My heart swoops and falls with them, desperately wishing they could find another way out even though I’ve seen this ballet a hundred times and know the ending by heart. God, if Grace knew about this, she’d call me a secret romantic.

The last few weeks under Sir Ian’s tutelage have yielded no additional clues. He has been completely professional. Faultless. But my sleep has been destroyed, marred with nightmares where I wake up bathed in sweat—my mind and body still fighting with each other. It’s like my body is trying to tell me something my mind can’t remember.

It’s unsettling and annoying. I haven’t felt this way in years.

Dev lifts Bethany in the air, followed by an achingly tender embrace. My heart clenches in wistfulness and longing.

I’m thrown back to a time when I was with Alexis at IBA.

“You have that look on your face,” Alexis snickered as we peered at the stage where aSwan Lakerehearsal was taking place.

“Shhhhh. This is my favorite part.” I nudged her. “And what look?”

Her sharp blue eyes twinkled with laughter as she leaned in. “The look of love and heartbreak. Like you’re Odette.”

I pursed my lips. “How aren’t you moved by this? Undying love, life and death, all performed without words.”

“I am.” Her voice quieted as we stared at the prince carrying Odette toward the lake to their deaths—because they couldn’t break the curse the sorcerer placed on Odette and would rather die than be apart. “You’d make a great Odette someday, Tay. I know it in my gut.”

There was a wistfulness in her voice, and I tore my gaze away from the stage to look at her. Her eyes had a faraway look. Our friendship bangle dangled from her slim wrist.

She smiled. “You have what it takes to make it to the top. Grit. Talent. Even the teacher said you captured Odette’s essence so well. You’ll be unstoppable once you have the technique down.”

Oh Alexis, how wrong you were.A weight settles on my chest and I touch the cool metal of the bangle around my wrist.

“That’s what you’re missing, you know.” Charles’s deep voice interrupts my thoughts, and a pillar of heat appears by my side.

Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “Why are you even here, Charles? Don’t you have work or whatever you CEOs do?”

“My uncle’s first performance. I can’t miss it.” He shuffles closer to me, staring at Dev and Bethany. “Your Odette is missing the vulnerability and all the nuanced emotions that make her role a classic. Your version will march up to the prince, slap him across the face, and come up with some scheme to kill the sorcerer. This is why you keep having issues dancing the role.”

Amusement laces his voice as he straightens his suit jacket. He probably thinks he has me all figured out—he has no fucking clue why I can’t dance the vulnerability required for Odette.

You don’t know shit, Charles.

“Shut up.”

The smirk falls off his face and he arches his brow. “What did you just say?”

I glower at him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re thelastperson to talk to me about this.”

His shoulders stiffen and a lock of blond hair falls across his face. That damn annoying mask he wears all the time falls off his face. “What on earth iswrongwith you? Can’t take criticism?”

“No, I have no problem taking criticism, but it’s rich coming from you. A man with no dance qualifications to speak of, standing here telling a woman how she’s wrong for a role she’s a professional in.”

My breathing comes out in rapid pants as if a runaway train is barreling toward a head-on collision, its brakes cut, unable to stop. “And howdareyou ask me what’s wrong with me? Why don’t I ask you what’s wrong with you? How is someone who doesn’t even have the guts to tell the world what he’s thinking even qualified to lecture another person on vulnerability, love, and heartbreak?”

“What the fuck?” he grits out.

Charles’s countenance turns stormier, and in this moment, I can’t hear anything other than the blood pumping in my ears. The poison is overflowing inside me and it needs to come out.

The vague silhouettes of business suits that fateful night barge into my mind.

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