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“The corps has its uses too, I suppose. I guess it’s another example of your charity. Or lack of ability to mind your own business.”

Well, whatever divinity Juliette had been praying to earlier clearly gave no credence to her pleas. Katarina had heard the exchange with Gabriel. And she had not forgotten Juliette’s révérence faux pas.

Still, Katarina’s response had been predictable for someone who appeared so proud in the light of day and under bystanders' curious gazes. There was more of that… pragmatism, for lack of a better word. And if she was honest with herself, Juliette had no words at all. It was a bleak and dark outlook that her companion was espousing, and Juliette had never been one for the shadows.

She had no way of knowing what Katarina's lived experiences were, of course, but she was beginning to suspect whatever they had been, they had rendered the former Soviet prima closed off and maybe a touch unfeeling. Which went to contradict the woman who, last night, hid her tears in the rain and thanked the stars.

Francesca’s door appearing in front of them was a welcome relief from Juliette’s confusion. She had been thinking too much about Katarina Vyatka. Delivering her to Francesca and never having to deal with her again, especially once she’d vacated Juliette’s apartment, would be exactly what she needed to stop this feeling that she was off her rhythm. She was a ballerina, after all, and she needed her balance more than anything. Stealing one last glance at the ice-blue eyes shielded by indifference and detachment, Juliette mentally added “especially now” to all of her previous thoughts.

8

OF LUST & FEAR

“Iam dancingwhatwith her?”

Well, so much for dumping Katarina on Francesca and never having to deal with her ever again.

“Swan Lake.”

Two words in Francesca’s heavily accented tone sounded like a verdict. A capital one.

“I’m sorry, you want Jett and Kat here to danceSwan Lake? Together?”

A sharp glance in his direction from the narrowed cold blue eyes and Gabriel immediately lifted his hands palm up.

“Katarina, Katarina the Great, Empress of Moscow, my apologies, Your Majesty.”

Katarina ignored his buffoonery entirely. She had made her point. A good point, too, because knowing Gabriel they’d be “Jett and Kat,” or whatever annoying, ridiculous moniker he’d make up for them, in no time.

Still, Gabriel’s question landed like a lead balloon and surely, with its weight and consequence, broke some of the lacquered antique parquet pieces on the gorgeous office floor.

Francesca didn’t deign to look at him, instead meeting Juliette’s questioning gaze head-on. “No, otherwise you’d not be here, querido.”

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose and then simply stared at the Director of Ballet in complete stupor.

“Jett, you said it yourself when you were staging your little coup d’état last night.Swan Lakeis the most famous production in the world by far, and your fiery speech gave me the idea for a perfect reinterpretation. A reinvention of the old and boring.”

Francesca’s face, tipped to the ceiling as if in the middle of a solo performance, was alight with a maniacal kind of passion. Then she finally looked back at Gabriel and deflated. When she spoke, sarcasm came loud and clear in her tone.

“From the intelligent and understanding look on your face, and the clearly delighted ones on the ladies’ visages, I take it you are all on board, fully supporting this, and will work your exquisite behinds off to ensure standing ovations every night. Right? Amazing. Dismissed.”

Francesca threw her cane in the office’s corner and turned her back to the dancers standing motionless and in total astonishment. When she reached her chair and plopped down behind the immense desk, she pursed her lips before regaling them with a very displeased string of curses. Once she was done, she blew out a breath and rolled her eyes before speaking.

“I have the best prima in Paris and the former face of Moscow ballet, and you want me to stage what?Giselle? Spare me. That horse is so dead, beating it seems grotesque. We need a revolution!”

“People tend to lose heads after revolutions in this town, Madame Bianchi.” Katarina’s words were dryness personified. Juliette couldn’t help but smile.

Francesca wasn’t impressed, and her frosty, unamused voice said as much. “Cute. Always knew you were a cute one.”

Katarina curled her lip but said nothing, and Juliette suspected nobody had ever dared call her cute in her entire life. Francesca dismissed her with an exaggerated shrug.

Juliette felt the need to intervene, if only to avoid bloodshed.

“Cesca, the same ballerina always dances Odile and Odette?—”

“Oh, yawn, yawn. Of course one ballerina dances both.Swan Lakeis about transformation as much as anything else. However… Can’t you see? Blonde and brunette? Can’t you grasp my vision? Light and dark? And the blonde here dancing the dark swan of evil and the brunette being the Goody Two-shoes? Tell me, if you’re the public, aren’t you running and selling your firstborns for a ticket to the opening night?”

“Evil?”