Page 19 of Stripped

Chapter 11

Wraith stood at the door to Pim's studio, watching as she rehearsed the next morning completely unaware of his presence. When he woke up, he thought he had been dreaming, the elusive bird of prey just out of reach, but the music was real. She must have gotten up early to practice. She was mesmerizing, exquisite really. The words fragile and beautiful sprang to mind, as she moved and turned across the floor, her arms as graceful as a swan's wings. So different than the rebellious, hard girl she wanted the world to see. He admired her discipline as she had been at it for the past hour and a half. She finished, turning the music off and wiped her face with a towel.

He cleared his throat. "Odette, the white swan," he said softly.

She looked up at him, taking off her pointe shoes and the white practice tutu she wore. "You know the story."

"A bit. I was dreaming of that blasted owl mask when I woke up. It must have been the music."

Pim laughed. "Rudolf Nureyev re-choregraphed it in 1984 for the Paris Opera Ballet, using Freud as his inspiration. To sum it up, Freud said when you dream of a bird or flying, it signifies nothing more than an inner desire for sexual activities." She raised her eyebrows. "Hence, your owl."

He coughed and surprisingly felt his cheeks grow warm. He should never have allowed the kiss to happen. God, she was eleven years younger than he was, and it was against The Watch's policy. "About last night, I, um… I think I drank—"

"For fuck's sake, grow up. It was a kiss. We had been drinking. I'm not looking for a relationship or a ring from you."

"I suppose not." Now he felt like the child. He knew she wanted to get by him, but he blocked the door. "Anyway. You're good. Very good. I thought you would have given yourself the day off."

She shook her head. "There are no days off. One, because there is always someone who is willing to work harder for your spot, and two, my body wouldn't allow it. It takes this long to warm it up, so I can move."

"I picked up breakfast for us. You didn't have anything in the house." He moved so she could get around him.

"You trusted me to stay alone?"

It was his turn to laugh. "I just went to the coffee shop on the corner." He handed her a cup. "I wasn't sure what a dancer ate so I got a little of everything. If I'm going off yesterday, I would say nothing, but it's going to be a long day and you'll need something in you."

She grabbed a hard-boiled egg and a sausage roll. "I eat," she said a bit defensively, sitting down on a barstool.

"What time is the funeral today?"

"One, but I need to stop by my grandfather's place and pick up my eulogy."

This would give him an opportunity to look in Angus' office. Gabriel had texted Wraith this morning saying there were no police records on Andrew McNeil's death. Either there was never a case, or someone had them removed, and he was banking on the latter. "If it's okay, I'm going to shower and get ready," he said.

Pim nodded, getting down from the stool. Wraith stopped her, and bending down, he held her leg. "You're bleeding."

Blood soaked the tape around her toenail. "I had to pull it off this morning. It's the second one, my other one came off yesterday. It's fine."

"It doesn't look fine. Christ, that must have hurt." He gently unwrapped the tape, the last part sticking to the raw skin where the nail used to be. He felt her flinch as he quickly tore the rest of the bandage off. The bleeding started up again.

"I'm used to it. My feet were never anything to look at anyway," she joked, but he could feel the tension in her calf muscle. He knew it hurt her.

"Go clean it up," he said, standing. "How are you going to wear a shoe today?"

"Really, it's nothing. I'll rub some tooth numbing gel on it. I won't feel a thing."

* * *

Pim sprayed perfume on her neck and wrists and looked at herself in the mirror. She wore a tight, black, sleeveless dress, reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn, with a string of pearls her grandfather had given her, adding a pair of three-quarter length black gloves to complete the ensemble. Slipping her feet into her black pumps, she checked her hair and tucked a flyaway strand into her low bun. Wraith was waiting for her on the couch. He stood as she came in the room, buttoning his suit jacket. "Sorry I took so long," she said, trying not to look at him. He looked handsome in his black suit and tie and it reignited the small spark of desire from last night. She had never been kissed like that before—restrained to where she couldn't move, rough and controlled. She liked it. It was when he touched her leg to look at her toe, gentle and concerned, that made her uncomfortable. No one in nineteen years had cared if she was in pain. Ballet bred a culture of risk, normalizing pain. She had been taught to both suppress and trivialize it.

"It was worth the wait. You look grand," he said, helping her with her coat before grabbing his own. "You know you're going to freeze."

"Work partners, remember. If I freeze, it's my fault."

They headed downstairs and Wraith drove the short distance to Kingsborough Gardens, pulling up to her grandfather's townhouse. The day was cold and dreary. Dark clouds, heavy with rain, sat low in the sky, disagreeable and threatening. Pim got out of the car, pulling her coat tight around her as they walked up the path to the door. She turned the key in the lock and let them in, punching the code into the alarm. "That's weird."

"What?" Wraith asked, taking his coat off and hanging it up.

"Someone disabled the alarm. I know I set it when I left on Sunday, but it was deactivated."

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