Page 5 of Ruinous Need
He flaps a hand. “As if that matters. She’s twenty-one now.”
“You dated her? How did you meet?”
“It hasn’t been easy, Viktor. Securing her hand took years of offers, gifts, conversations with her father.” He rubs his temples, as though his engagement was a business strategy that took more energy than he’d expected. “Once she finally realized how lucrative this could be, she agreed to marry me.”
So he’s bought her. I should never have doubted that he would lack the capacity for romance.
I note he doesn’t want to answer my second question about how they met.
“How thoughtful. Love isn’t dead.” I can’t help but let my mouth twitch into a wry smile. Just when I thought Semyon might be capable of a human emotion, he proves me wrong.
His face turns stony. “Love doesn’t matter. Winning her does.”
That sounds more like my cousin. She’s a prize in a game he’s playing.
By marrying a nobody, he would prove that he can marry whomever he wants and he’s still safe at the top. That he has the kind of power that doesn’t give a fuck about the Council and its spider-web network of influence. The kind of power that rules alone.
It’s a risky, unpredictable move. If he pulls it off, it will prove he’s safe. If he doesn’t, our family goes up in flames.
I sigh. There’s no point in resisting. What Semyon wants, he’ll get.
“Send me the details. I’ll make sure she’s safe while you’re in Chicago.”
CHAPTER 3
LISETTE
“DOES IT REALLY have to be over? That didn’t feel like an hour.”
The ballet studio is quiet except for one overenthusiastic twelve-year-old.
I roll my eyes and make a face to hide my laughter. “It was definitely an hour, Millie.”
“Come on, Lisette, we didn’t even get to do the character dance. That one’s my favorite.” She’s bouncing on her toes, a bundle of energy despite the hours of dance class and a full day of school.
I can never sit still either.
“That’s on Tuesday, Millie,” I remind her. “And nobody else seems to have a problem going home.”
“Well, I do. And I want to do the character dance.” She springs away and begins the tricky footwork. There’s no getting rid of her.
Twelve-year-olds can nag like nobody else. I can’t help but smile.
Millie Moore is one of our most promising dancers. In her enthusiasm to dance, dance, dance, more times a week than wecould possibly offer classes, she reminds me of myself.
I let her do an extra run-through of the character dance. “Just one,” I remind her as I press play on the ancient CD player and watch her routine.
I feel a pang of jealousy in my stomach as she twirls and leaps with optimism and energy. It’s crystal clear that there’s no doubt in her mind that she won’t land a jump or face the right way. Her technique is imperfect, but there’s not an ounce of hesitation in her graceful movements. She meets my critical eye full-on with a genuine grin lighting up her face.
Having an audience doesn’t bother her.
It’s ridiculous to be jealous of a student, but I can’t help it.
I stop the regret that’s curling in my stomach. Pressing my palms together behind my back, I take a deep breath so that my own feelings don’t color my impression of her character dance.
After all, Millie’s not the reason I can’t have an audience.
I deliver my feedback to her with a smile, pointing out where she could improve, and make sure she’s safely on the way home with her parents before I return to the floor.
