Page 34 of Rome: The Ballerina

Poised.

In-control.

Refined.

Confident.

Calm.

Composed.

Meek.

Mild.

Mellow.

I repeated the words over and over, reminding myself of who I was. I’d been lost for far too many hours. The day was nearly done and I still hadn’t quite found myself yet. Though wading felt wondrous, it was becoming. I thrived off balance and stability. Something solid underneath me. A fixed foundation.

Balance.

Stability.

I craved them both. Obtaining them started by simply stepping fully into my role in the world. No matter how small or how extravagant it was. I was prepared to embrace my power and steal as much of it from Sac as I needed. He’d taken what I wasn’t ready to give. I needed it back.

“Balle.”

The SUV had come to a stop. I opened my eyes and leaned forward, pulling my skin from the seat.

“Yes, I know.”

Silence followed. August’s hand was on the door the next second, pulling it open. I stepped down and onto the pavement. The entry to the building of my family’s loft was in my line of vision. I placed one foot in front of the other until the doors parted, welcoming me inside.

7:00p

An internal alarm sounded in my head. Time wasn’t the only influence. At the elevator stood a handsome fella dressed in a pair of navy slacks and a beige shirt. It clung to his muscles, detailing his fitness addiction.

His sandy hair was freshly groomed. He seemed taller. Thicker. Better than I remembered. It had only been a few hours since I’d marveled at his beauty, but it had intensified in a terrifying way. The shorts and torn tee were rags in comparison to the threads adorning his frame. They increased his stock exponentially.

My God.

My heart danced in my chest at the sight of him. He was magnetic. I gravitated to him–mentally and emotionally. Physically, I was immobile. His abundance consumed me. It anchored me.

His eyes…

His eyes condemned me.

For leaving his side.

For spending hours away.

The anguish of his orbs revealed the effects of my absence as he turned to face me, realizing he was no longer alone. I had entered the building.

He missed me.

He placed one foot in front of the other, making his way to me. The flowers in his hand were a sight to see. Massive. Pink. And, requiring both hands to carry.

“Rome–”

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