Page 47 of Dance of Devils
With no breaks.
By the time I’m done with her, she’s collapsed on the floor, panting, her body trembling with exertion. The ragged sound of her breathing fills the studio as I grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge next to the piano and walk over to hand it to her, still down on the floor.
“Better.”
She glares up at me, her skin shining with sweat in a way that makes my hands twitch and my stomach clench.
“How do you know so much about ballet?” she wheezes.
“I own this company,” I say quietly. “In case you and your tone had forgotten.”
She frowns. “Plenty of rich pampered assholes own art galleries. That doesn’t make them painters.”
I smirk.
I like this fire in her. Maybe too much.
…Definitelytoo much.
“Well,thisparticular rich pampered asshole happens to know quite a bit about ballet.” My eyes stab into hers. “You have ashot,” I growl. “But you need to conquer your fear.”
“I’m not afraid of?—”
She gasps as I surge right into her, looming.
A smirk tugs at my mouth. “You were saying?”
“Fuck you?—”
“Language, Ms. Ellis.”
Her mouth snaps shut, and she bristles.
“I’m notscared. You attacked me. That’s a natural response. But kung fu orkrav magaor whatever that was isn’t ballet,” she hisses.
I slowly shake my head. “Ballet is war. It is merciless, it is unforgiving, and it is kill or be killed. If that’s not war…” I look away. “I don’t know what is.”
Brooklyn eyes me, sucking on her bottom lip.
Don’t say it. Don’t do this. You will regret it.
“I can work with you, Brooklyn.”
Fuck. I said it.
She blinks in surprise as she looks up at me. “What?”
“You’ll continue as usual during the day with Magda—with Madame Kuzmina, that is,” I say. “But after that, you and I will have one-on-one coaching. I will hone your near-perfect skills intoactualperfection.”
She smiles a little. “Seriously?”
“Yes.” I lean down close to her. “Are you prepared to work hard?”
She nods vigorously. “Yeah, I am.”
“There will be rules, Brooklyn.”
“Such as?” she drawls sarcastically.
