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My blood pumps, and I see flashes of faces staring at me from the seated crowd, but I focus my attention mostly on myself.
I’ve reached the state of ecstasy I always dive into while dancing.
There is no one else, just me and the orchestra.
With my performance almost completed, I smile, and it's one of the few real ones I've smiled in years.
Happiness. The purest happiness is what I'm feeling right now, because I know I haven't disappointed Madam. I haven’t disappointed myself.
Cambré, balancé, échappé.?*
I execute each movement exquisitely, with the respect it deserves.
And finally, it comes to an end.
My heart swells inside my chest. Exhilaration and joy like I've never felt bring tears to my eyes, and there's a smile in me so spontaneous that I don't know if I'll ever be able to stop it.
The audience rises and gives me a standing ovation.
I scan them, automatically looking for JeAnne, but then I remember she's not here. She caught a cold and didn't want to take the risk of infecting people.
I push away the sadness and begin my révérence, curtseying to the audience.
And then, my attention is drawn to one of the boxes, to the left, a little above the main audience level.
I know it's the most expensive box there is. Although it’s very close to the stage, I can't see the features of its occupant, but somehow, I know he's looking directly at me and that he's just one man. I can see the outline of his suit, the rigid shoulders.
Another round of applause erupts, interrupting my curiosity. I force myself back to the present, but even after I leave the stage, I'm still thinking about the lonely observer
* Ballet movements.
Ares
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I expectedto die of boredom.
I have a striking characteristic besides the cynicism and arrogance that women always make a point of throwing in my face at the end of the brief affairs I have: I hate wasting time.
Within the category of “timewasters”, I group everything that is not capable of holding my interest, and dancing is certainly included.
The moment I saw my ward on stage, however, she completely stole my attention.
I don't know shit about ballet, but I know a lot about beauty and passion. Serenity is a raw vision of the two.
As I watched her dance, I understood, for the first time, why she doesn't go out and why she doesn't seem to have any friends or even a potential boyfriend.
Serenity is already committed, immersed in an intense dedication to her art.
During the entire performance, I can't take my eyes off her. I have to force myself to remember who she is, because there is something pure and heavenly about the girl, but there is alsosuch an intense ardor in the way she moves that I can't help imagining what all that passion would be like in bed.
Every time the thought reaches me, I push it away, trying to focus on the fact that I'm not in front of just any woman but a young orphan, someone who is unprotected and, much more than that, is my responsibility.
I don't even know what her face looks like, since in the photos I saw, she was nothing more than a teenager.
What the hell is happening? I can have any woman I want with a phone call, and my fucking dick decides to manifest itself for a girl I'm supposed to take care of?
A creature as fragile as a hummingbird?