“I will be.”
I gestured to his guards. “That’s why you have security? I would have hired some too.”
“I didn’t hire them. A certain family did. One that is upset with the death of their patriarch.”
Fear sliced through me, but I made sure to not let it show on my face.
“Anything else, Akiva?”
“Have a good performance. It will be your final one as a prima ballerina.”
I swallowed.
He walked off with his men.
I looked up at the guard on the right. He’d been with me from the very beginning of this journey with Misha. His body was large and massive. His face scarred. A dark shadow of stubble covered his chin.
He turned my way.
I spoke in Russian. “Can I ask you something?”
He nodded.
“What’s your name?”
His Russian words came out thick. “Misha told us to be nameless and faceless around you. We’re only to talk when absolutely necessary. No friendships.”
“I still would like to know your name.”
“It is Yefim.”
“Can I ask you for some advice, Yefim?”
He checked the other guards’ reactions. They remained staring in front. Shrugging, he bobbed his head.
“I think Akiva is trying to taunt Misha and get him to act. This moment in the hallway is one of those examples.”
Yefim nodded again.
So. . .you agree?
I looked off to wear the artistic director disappeared. “Those guards Akiva had today looked rougher than usual security.”
“They’re Solntsevskaya Bratva.”
“So. . .different from your Brotherhood.”
He nodded.
“They’re your enemies?”
He shrugged as if to say that anyone that wasn’t from the Brotherhood would be an enemy.
I shook my head. “Akiva said the family of the dead man gave him the guards. Maybe, they contacted this group.”
“It would be a smart move.”
I widened my eyes. “But would Misha be in danger?”
Yefim smiled, lifting his scarred cheeks. “No danger.”
“Could we tell Misha about Akiva’s visit once I’m with him?”
He held a grim expression. “Misha wants to be updated instantly. Already, it’s been too long.”
“I could tell him. I just don’t want him to worry—”
“Focus on your performance.” Yefim pulled out his phone. “Lots of concentration is required to balance on toes.”
“I don’t want Misha to do anything while I’m performing. Can you please tell him that?”
“I will.”
“Thank you.” I closed the door, went to my chair, and sat down.
Ignore him, Misha. Don’t let Akiva draw you into any bullshit.
I drowned in anxiety. To calm me down, I checked my watch.
Fifteen minutes.
I plugged my headphones in and played slow classical music.
It will be fine. Misha is smart. He won’t take Akiva’s bait.
The soothing sound of the piano absorbed all my stress. My pulse decreased. My breathing slowed. Peace restored my mind and body.
My phone buzzed, rattling on the vanity table and moving an inch. I grabbed it and checked the screen. Misha sent a text.
Misha: Don’t worry.
I tensed.
Misha: Tonight isn’t about Akiva. My focus is only on you.
I let out a long breath and typed back a response.
Me: Good. I want your eyes and mind on me tonight.
Misha: Only you. No one else.
Smirking, I typed again.
Me: I can’t wait to have you inside of me.
My phone rang.
Swallowing, I checked the screen. Misha’s name showed.
I turned off the music, took out the headphones, and answered, “Hello, Mr. Stronz. How can I help you?”
His voice was deep, rough, and sexy enough to soak my costume. “Send another text like that and I’ll be in your dressing room.”
“No one is allowed back here besides the company and staff.”
“Ava, you doubt my ability to get to you?”
While I knew he was only talking about getting backstage, a sliver of heat rose in me. My thighs trembled with the idea of him being inside of me. I licked my lips. “No, Misha. I don’t doubt your ability.”
“Are you ready to be Nikiya?”
“I am.”
“Mind clear?”
“Yes.”
“Body relaxed?”
“Yes, Mr. Stronz.”
“Good. For now, you dance for St Petersburg’s high society. Later tonight, you’ll dance for me.”
“Oh no.”
His voice went tense. “What’s wrong?”
“I already had a date with Bob this evening.”
He growled. “Why do you tempt me like this? Don’t you want to make it to the stage tonight?”
I giggled. “I’m just having fun.”
“Your pussy will pay for that later.”
My tone shifted to hunger. “I hope so.”
“We’re being seated now, Ava. I’ll talk to you after the performance.”
“Okay.”
“Good luck. You’ll be amazing as always.”
“Thank you.”
“Goodbye.” He hung up.
I shut my phone off and directed my view to my reflection. Love flowed in my eyes. A silly grin spread across my face.
Girl, you have it bad for him.
Tonight, I would dance. But it wouldn’t be Nikiya dancing for Solor. Every turn would be for Misha. Every leap. Every jump. It would all be for him and no one else. Not the audience or the company. Not St Petersburg. Not even for the future generations of black ballerinas.
Tonight, I dance for you, Misha.
I picked up a bottle of perfume, sprayed a little, and checked my watch.