I wished everyone would understand. But of course that wasn’t going to happen. I could hear my babushka reminding me words were not sparrows. It was an old Russian proverb that basically meant once words were uttered, good or bad, they flew away and couldn’t be caught.
I might as well be speaking to a brick wall. Strands of my wet hair slapped against my skin as I shook my head. “Forget it. Believe whatever the hell you want.”
I tried to turn away and walk off. But evidently not content with acting like a bitch, Bella deliberately pushed against me, almost knocking me down as my feet slid across the wet floor. I sucked in a deep breath, not wanting to act like a fool, but it was too late for any rationality. Anger raged within, and it was slowly eating me up alive.
I spun back, clenching my fists, ready for a dance of another kind if that was what she wanted. Unlike the leaps and twirls we’d done on the stage that barely had me breaking a sweat, I was prepared to knock her the fuck out. But before I could get so much as a return shove in, Yuri walked into the room — the choreographer and co-owner whom I needed to impress. I really couldn’t get into a catfight right now. Not when I hadn’t even signed the contract yet.
Instead of moving forward, I leaned back against the wall, trying to get control of myself. I needed to learn to keep my temper under control if I was really going to attempt resurrecting my career. It was going to get a whole lot worse than some two-faced bitch talking shit behind my back, and I was going to have to let it brush off me. If I lost my temper every time someone acted like an idiot, then entering the ballet scene again was going to be the biggest mistake ever.
“What the hell is going on here?” Yuri asked, temper lacing his tone of voice. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re in here fighting? I suggest you save the energy for rehearsal. I promise there isn’t a soul here who can rest on whatever fucking laurels you might imagine having. Is that understood? Not a single one of you!”
The way everyone stepped back with an odd look of fear in their eyes was a little strange. Were they all scared of this guy or something? Was he more of a dickhead than he first seemed? When Yuri realized no one else was answering, he tapped me on the shoulder and indicated for me to follow him out of the shower room.
Shit. I tried to settle my nerves as I reached up to tighten the towel around me before following him out the door. I’d had my chance at redemption for a half a second, and I’d already blown it.
Would an apology be enough?
Would I be able to talk myself out of this one?
I wasn’t used to talking my way out of things anymore. It had been a very long time since I’d had to answer to a choreographer.
Since I had to answer to anyone.
“I’m sorry,” I started instantly, wanting to get my words in first. “That should never have happened. I know I need to earn your trust and respect, as well as theirs.”
“No.” He shook his head at me, causing my heart to sink. Was it already too late? “I don’t want to hear anything about trust. I don’t really give a fuck what you did in the past as long as it doesn’t bleed into my theater. I need you to work your ass off and prove we made the right decision in investing in you.”
Huh? That wasn’t what I was expecting at all…
“When our mother was alive, Volkov Ballet was known to be an amazing theater. Our reputation was that our productions have dancers who outshine the very stars in the sky. We had the very best in the world begging to be in our company. Then she died and, a few weeks ago, our principal goes and gets pregnant. Costs are rising, dancers are getting lazier and demanding more money and more fucking time off while we are working our asses off to make sure we don’t lose the respect and reputation our mother spent her life building. I need you to help me with this. You’re an amazing dancer, though out of shape and in need of some fine tuning. I’m sure it goes without saying I don’t need any bullshit from you, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that isn’t going to happen. As long as you’re not the one to start the crap, I’m willing to cut you a break.”
“I promise—”
“Don’t bother making promises you have no idea if you’ll be able to keep. Just suck it up and take whatever the others dish out. If you can’t do that, then do us all a favor and leave.”