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I stand there like an idiot until Paul grabs my elbow and ushers me outside. When the door slams close behind, he doubles over. “Fuck. If I had anything in my stomach other than diet soda, I would puke it out.”

“Shh.” I pull him down the hallway. “He might hear you.”

“I need to call my bae and tell him it’s over and that I survived.” He kisses my cheek and saunters across the way to his own dressing room.

I duck into my dressing room and stop at the threshold. This is my first time having a space all to myself. It’s an accomplishment that many ballet performers never get to experience. I’m lucky in so many ways. I sit on the vanity stool and look at my reflection with renewed enthusiasm.

A single knock on the door brings me back to reality. It’s time. I wrap my feet and head out. On my way to the practice room, Mila catches up to me. “Did you hear?”

“I’m gonna go with no.” I point at her. “What’s going on?”

“New investor is going to sit in on rehearsals.” She beams at me. “Maybe we’ll get a raise?” She shrugs and rushes to the group in front of us to ask them the same question.

Warm-up takes longer this morning. Being the first day back, everyone’s focus isn’t exactly where it needs to be. I, for one, could’ve used a few more minutes to work on the ligaments and muscles around my knee. I make my way to the front of the theatre and sit on the floor to stretch my quads while I wait on Pierre. Paul and I have worked together for a long time. So seducing him should be a piece of cake.

“Look alive.” Paul taps me on the shoulder.

As soon as Pierre enters the stage, the pianist begins playing the piece from act two. Pierre is obsessed with this particular scene, so I’m not surprised this is where we are starting. I clear my head and let the melody guide me. Within minutes, I’m floating, lost in the dark corners of Odile’s character. Her desire is driven by a puppeteer. So it can’t be real.

“Again,” Pierre calls out loudly. “I need more.” He jumps off stage to talk to the pianist.

His loud words snap me out of my reverie and effectively knock the wind out of me. I stop to catch my breath and wipe the sweat from my cleavage and neck. That’s when I see him. Archer sitting two rows down, looking at no one but me.

“Are you okay?” Paul comes in from behind me and assumes first position. “You look pale.”

“He’s here.” I swallow.

“Who?” He does a double take. “Oh shit. He. Him. Your prince.”

“Yes.” I inhale deeply. “Why is here?”

“He must be the new investor. You didn’t tell me he was rich too. Gosh, money and good looks.”

“Let’s try again.” Pierre points at me. “Feel his energy around you. Revel in his perfect physique. Control him. Seduce him.” He walks off and the piano starts again.

“Should I get the Adonis up here?” Paul laughs in my ear.

“Stop,” I order.

But then I meet Archer’s gaze. Even from this distance, I can feel the heat of his hard body. I haven’t forgotten how good it was to be in his arms. All day, I have been pushing fantasies of him away. But now, I’m letting the flood gates burst open. In an avalanche of real memories and wishful thinking, Archer is in my head again. Making my body warm with sensation and lust. His hands are all over me, tasting me, just like he did in my bedroom.

The music stops. My gaze darts to the audience, but Archer is gone.

“That’s good progress.” Pierre nods, the slightest smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

In Pierre’s world that says I did fucking great. But of course, I still have a long way to go because, like Dad, he doesn’t want great. He wants absolute perfection.

Rehearsals continue and it’s as if we don’t have the job yet and Pierre wants to eliminate us from the cast before the day is over. I keep up by some miracle, though the entire time I swear I can still feel Archer’s intense gaze on me. Why is he here? Every time I ask the question, my core flutters at the expectation of what he might want from me. Like he said, we still have unfinished business. I spent his money. Now he’s here to collect.

We finish up the rest of practice with the ensemble. By the time Pierre dismisses me, my knee is throbbing in pain.

“You need to make sure you wrap that for tomorrow.” Paul points at my swollen knee. The fact that he didn’t make a joke or flirt with me tells me he’s dead serious. And concerned. “You did great.”

“Yeah, but not perfect.” I rub the back of my neck, laboring to catch my breath.

“We still have three months. You already know the choreography. All you need is to nail Odile’s darkness. Control it,” he says in Pierre’s voice, then laughs. “You were meant for this role. Don’t doubt yourself now.” He plants a wet kiss on my cheek and grabs both his gym bag and mine. “Hey, should we hit a bar again tonight? You need practice. This time, I think you should fuck him, like Pierre said.”

“He didn’t say to go fuck a stranger.” I burst out laughing. “You’re insane.”