Page 29

Sweat drips down my forehead, my legs extended in an arabesque, as Dev lifts me high into the air. My heart pounds like a battering ram, the spotlight singeing my skin. Everything seems different, and I’m never more aware of the fraud that I am as I finish our inaugural performance of Swan Lake at the iconic Palais Garnier in Paris.

I feel the audience’s eyes staring at me, scrutinizing my every move, picking apart each pose.

Look at how rigid she is as Odette.

Did they send in an amateur to do a professional’s job?

An average performance. What a disappointment.

I can’t breathe.

Dev, perfectly playing the part of Prince Siegfried, gently lowers me to the ground and I collapse into his embrace.

“Almost done. You’re doing well, Tay,” he murmurs, his face turned to the side, out of view of the audience.

After giving him a small squeeze of acknowledgment, I push him away—the moment when Odette decides to end her life to break the curse.

This pain, the hopelessness the beautiful white swan must’ve felt—this I can portray.

I think about my broken dreams as a child, the happiness I thought I’d experience once I make it on to the world stage, only for my innocence to be ripped away by reality. I think about the horror on Charles’s face when I slapped him across the face after he gave me a kiss I very much wanted.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I collapse on my knees, my arms stretching forward, the music in its sorrowful crescendo descending around me.

The death pose.

I rest my head on the floor—the moment Odette leaves this world in a tale of tragedy. Soon, Dev wraps his arms around me as he joins me.

The prince and his swan queen separated while living, reunite in death.

My breathing is loud as I try to contain my emotions. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for my entire life ever since Mom took me behind the stage at the Met Opera. This is the pinnacle—playing the white swan in one of the top ballet companies in the world on the prestigious international stage. I’m supposed to be elated, tears of joy streaming down my face, but instead, I’m met with soul-crushing grief.

Because it’s all wrong.

Everything is wrong.

I still can’t fix myself, even as I try, try, and fucking try.

I can recite the books I’ve read. I know everything I’m going through is normal, that the path forward sometimes requires a few steps backward.

But I’m tired. So damn tired.

I hear the gentle swish of the curtains drawing closed and polite applause ringing out in the large auditorium.

“It’s done,” Dev says gently as he pulls me up. “Not too shabby for your first lead performance.” He grins.

“It was average. You and I both know it.” I strain a smile at my friend.

My Odette was still too stiff, the emotions on my face other than the final scene feeling forced. Judging from the polite cheers and gentle applause, no one was swept away by my performance.

Soon, we make our way back onto the stage for our obligatory curtain call. Flowers are strewn, the camera flashes blinding. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sir Ian smiling at the audience, but his expression is strained. He’s gripping his ruby pen like it’s his worst enemy.

He isn’t pleased.

“You guys were excellent!” Lisa rushes up to us backstage before throwing herself at her boyfriend and the lovebirds engage in a passionate kiss.

Feeling awkward, I thank her before moving out of the way and heading toward the dressing room, where we have to change and get ready for the gala on site to celebrate the successful international premiere of the ballet.

How am I going to pull this off for the next few months?

My thoughts weigh heavily on my mind as I push open the door to my private room. I blow out a breath and check my phone to see if Emerson has an update for me or if I have any messages from the girls. Anything to distract me from my thoughts.

Inbox zero. I sigh. I know investigations take time, especially in a case this cold, but now that I started on the journey, I want to see it through. I want to know what happened and if I still can, put those bastards in jail.

I want closure. Maybe then I’d be able to dance Odette again.

A knock sounds at the door but before I can even say “Come in,” it swings open.

“You were terrific!” Grace squeals, ambushing me in a tight hug. “That final segment—I had tears in my eyes, Tay!”

Chuckling, I pull away from her. If only she knew why I could dance the last part well. “Sir Ian is kinda pissed. I’m sure I’m in for it later.”

“Pssh.” Grace scowls. “What does he know?”

I snort. “He’s only one of the best choreographers and dance directors in the world, so he knows a lot.”

Grace narrows her eyes. “Well, I never—”

“Seriously, bravo!” another voice chimes in.

My head whips toward the second voice, finding Olivia grinning from the doorway.

“What are you doing here?” I laugh, pleased to see the girl who is quickly becoming a close friend.

She strides over and wraps me in a light hug before motioning to Grace. “I begged your sister for a ticket. I had a medical conference here last week, so I just extended my trip.”

Olivia steps back and scans my face, like she’s searching for something. “You know you were astounding, right, Tay? You’re always too hard on yourself. Speaking as a friend and a shrink, celebrate those wins.”

My heart clenches as I stare at the two beaming faces before me. I’m so thankful I have these girls in my life.

“Damn right,” I rasp.

Grace claps her hands together. “Okay, let’s get ready for your gala! Belle gave me explicit instructions when she sent over your gown. She told me the requirements—champagne dress and light makeup. I’m so excited, Tay! It’s been ages since I’ve seen you in anything other than dark colors.”

I roll my eyes as dread coils in my gut. The outfit requirements came from the top—from Sir Ian and the board of directors, according to Lisa’s insider information. This gala is not only a celebration for the premiere but also an event where who’s who with deep pockets in Europe will show up. Deals will be made, contracts will be signed. It’s important to put up a good front for politics.

And apparently, as lead dancer, they want me to portray an air of elegance and radiance, not doom and gloom.

“I think I look awesome in dark colors. Dark and mysterious, don’t you think?” I waggle my brows.

“Light—let there be light!” Lisa’s faux snotty tone last week when I grumbled my complaints barges into my mind.

I feel naked already and I haven’t even changed yet. I eye the formfitting gown Belle chose for me and while I trust her impeccable tastes, the idea of being out in the real world without my loose outfits and dark makeup makes me want to retch.

“Chop, chop. No time to spare. We’ll make you beautiful!” Grace announces and grabs the gown off the hanger.

I swallow as blood drains from my face.

“Tay, you okay there?” Olivia furrows her brows, her brown eyes glinting with sharp awareness.

Huffing out a laugh, I wave her off. “Let’s get the fucking show on the road.”