Page 26 of The Dancer and the Grumpy Billionaire

“Most places, yes. Not to work, of course. Vera usually rides along for drop-off and pickup. Alexei and Roman are usually invisible, following at a safe distance. This is why I have to sneak out to even get lunch with friends from the ballet, or with you.”

I can feel the frustration radiating off her. And I feel for her, truly. Through no fault of her own, she has to live in a bubble, her access to life truncated because of her father’s choices. Hanging around with her today – just eating and enjoying tourist areas – was wonderful. She is intelligent and curious. She is funny and energetic. She is well-read and worldly. For someone just about to turn twenty-two, she has moments of great maturity. But the opposite can be true, as well. I suspect that some of the immaturity is rooted in her isolation.

“Have you ever been in love?” Gigi asks randomly, pulling me from my thoughts.

She is looking at me now, her face framed in moonlight. She is just so beautiful that it truly astounds me.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “There have been times when I thought, perhaps, I was in love. But it never worked out and with time, I thought maybe I had only been infatuated with the idea of love.”

“Could you imagine yourself falling in love with me?” she asks, her voice soft.

“Yes.” The word comes out without my permission. “But I think it would be a mistake to fall in love with you, Gigi.”

Her eyes well with tears. “Why? Because I am young? Because of my father? Because I am Russian?”

“Because of a lot of things,” I say. “I just don’t think this can work. I don’t see how it can work.”

CHAPTER 11

Galina

Ifeel childish for sitting here crying. I have only known Vasily for a few weeks now, and most of our interactions have been via text. But I have real feelings for him, feelings I want desperately to explore like normal people would.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” I say. “All the time, I think of you.”

He laughs but it sounds brittle. “I don’t think you interact with many men, Gigi. I think you might just be looking for a savior.”

“That’s not the case and you know it,” I say. “We connect. I am inexperienced, but I know what that feels like. I felt it when you looked at me after the ballet. I feel it every time you look at me still.”

He bites on the inside of his cheek and looks away. “Gigi, it’s…”

“No,” I say firmly. “What happened between us in your apartment…”

“Was a mistake,” he interrupts.

“It was not. I won’t apologize for it because I know how it made me feel. And I know you wanted me.”

“Wanting to fuck someone is not the same as love,” he says.

It stings, and I know my face shows it.

“We talk for hours on text. We have things in common,” I say, sounding more girlish than I would like. “Vasily, yes, there are a million reasons you or I should probably walk away right now. I will not deny it, but I care for you. You are handsome and smart. And you want what I want.”

“Tell me, what is it that I want?” he asks.

“Something sweet and normal. You want to fall in love and make a life with someone. And I want that too. I want to explore, maybe try something other than dance. I want to live with someone I love, not just people who want to control me. Eventually, maybe, I want to have kids.”

A look of longing opens up his expression for a moment and I know that I have hit a nerve. He wants these things, too – for me and for himself. But as soon as it appears, it is gone. He shakes his head as if trying to shake away the image I have created.

“No,” he says. “I have to get out of this. I have no business being involved with the daughter of a Russian crime boss. I have a job working for a very popular Senator. I like what I do. I worked hard to get my education, to start my career. I am just a normal man, not some hero who can magically pluck you out of your unhappy little world.”

“I don’t need a hero, Vasily,” I say. “I need a friend. I need someone who will talk to me about real things, about the news and books and sports and art. If that is all you can be for me, then I will take it, because knowing you has been the biggest bright spot in my life. If you don’t want to risk being seen with me, then we can just text. I don’t want to lose you, though. Please don’t disappear on me.”

I reach out and tentatively take his hand across the console. He doesn’t push me away. In fact, he seems to soften a bit.

“I admit that I am surprised at how well we connect,” he finally says, looking straight through the front window instead of at me. “When I saw you dance for the first time, I was mesmerized. I had to meet you.”

“You stood in that line,” I say, smiling at the memory. “And you recognized me from the girl who was screaming in the back of an SUV.”

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