Page 2 of Darkest Sin
But I know my mother. She’s loyal to a fault. She might not have chosen Lev to be her husband but she’s never strayed from him since they married. She can be a stern mom at times but she’s always ready with open arms in case one of us girls need her to comfort us.
She has a slight smile on her lips as she watches me dance. I know she’s proud of how hard I’ve worked to get here.
My eyes slide over to the seat next to hers and I almost stumble. The seat is empty.
My father is supposed to be in that seat. Why isn’t he here?
He’s always bragged to his friends about what a wonderful ballerina I am. He’s never missed any of my shows. So why isn’t he here tonight?
I miss my cue to run towards Jake, the male ballerina, because I’m distracted. He makes up the distance and grabs my waist, lifting me up. I have to get my head in the game. Tonight is very important. I can’t let whatever is going on with my father affect my dance.
Jake gives me a concerned look but I smile, letting him know I’m all right.
He sets me back down and we continue our dance with little problems. Once our dance is done, we leave the stage to catch our breath and change costumes. It’s time for me to become the black swan.
“Are you ok?” he asks me, chugging back water.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” My breathless voice doesn’t help to make me sound convincing.
“Because you stumbled out there and you never stumble.”
“I’m fine.” I hurry to my dressing room to change. Once I’m in the black swan costume and makeup, I hurry back towards the stage. I’m in a long, quiet hallway. My dressing room is in a more secluded area of the theater. My father made sure of it, saying I shouldn’t have to share a dressing room with the other, ‘lesser’ dancers. His words, not mine.
The only downfall is that I have to move faster being so far away from the stage.
There’s no one else in the hallway as I hustle down it, my slippers thwacking on the ground. My toes are covered in tape to help protect against blisters and from breaking any of my toe nails. Ballerina feet are notorious for being ugly. My father always told me that I had to make sure my feet were just as beautiful without my ballet shoes on.
I go to pedicure salon once a week to make sure my feet are taken care of. I have to make my father proud.
I pick up my pace to reach the end of the hallway. I only have a few minutes before I need to be back on stage.
Out of the shadows, a man turns the corner and stops at the end of the hallway. I stumble to a halt. I don’t know this man. He doesn’t work here. I know everyone who works here from the ballerinas to the stage hands. It’s important that I’ve taken thetime to get to know everyone. If I’m kind, then no one can hate me for my father’s influence in getting where I am.
“Excuse me, sir,” I say, breathless from running. “I need to get past you.”
The man stares down at me with an intense gaze. It’s then that I really look at him and I’m struck by how handsome he is. Probably in his thirties. He’s young but nottooyoung. Black hair. Blue eyes. Stubble. Broad shoulders. He looks like he walked off the cover of a magazine.
“The black swan,” he murmurs, nodding towards my costume. For some reason, I feel the urge to fidget. I’m not used to being in the presence of a man like him. One thatscreamspower. My father does too but he’s my father. As for Jake, my fellow dancer, he’s gay so I’ve never felt anything weird around him. He’s always been respectful and I’ve been respectful back.
But the way this man is looking at me tells me that he’s not gay. It tells me that he’s interested in me, even though we’ve never met before.
“Yes,” I say. “And I need to get back to the stage soon.”
“Of course.” He steps out of the way. “I came back here to tell you that I thought you did a beautiful job as the white swan. I’ve never seen a dancer more beautiful.”
I can’t stop my face from blushing. “Thank you.” There’s just something about his stare that makes me want to duck my face and giggle like a schoolgirl.
“I’ll leave you be so you can finish the show.” He doesn’t move so I have to slowly walk past him. He looks at me the entire time and normally it would be unnerving but with this man it feels electric. A man like this is someone you want looking at you.
“Thank you,” I repeat.
“So polite,” he murmurs. “I like that in a woman.”
I need to get back to the stage soon but I have to know… “What’s your name? I’m Natalya.”
“I know.”
I frown.
