“I’m the owner of the Volkov Ballet, and I’d like to discuss having you come dance at our theater. See if we can get you back on the stage.”
If he’d announced I not only won the lottery but had the right digits in the Powerball circle as well, I wouldn’t have been more shocked.
“Are you here to screw with me, Mr. Volkov?” I asked in disbelief. “Is this some sort of sick practical joke?”
“It’s Alek, and I’m not known to be a joker,” he replied, appearing not the least bit nonplussed by my accusation. Meeting my glare with a stare that made me feel even smaller, he continued, “Though I can understand your hesitancy in believing me, I assure you this is a serious offer. I want to discuss a possible contract with you. See if we can work toward having you return to where you belong.”
“And where is it you think I belong?”
“Center stage,” he said without a moment’s hesitation.
The nails of the hand not clutching mail bit into my palm in my effort to appear unaffected by the way he’d nonchalantly referred to the one place I’d ever truly felt at home.
The stage.
Before I could formulate a reply, he tilted his head to the side. “If underneath all that”—his hand lifted to gesture at me from my tangled hair to my bare feet—“you still have what it takes, that is.”
Fuck unaffected. I might have walked away from that life, but I’d be damned if I was going to let him judge me in my own freaking driveway. Quite capable of giving my own smirk, I raised my eyebrow and canted my head, allowing what I considered the appropriate pregnant pause before taking the faker down a much needed peg or two.
“You’re not only rude, you’re a liar. Volkov Ballet is owned by Nadia Volkova.” I remembered the beautiful Russian woman known for her incredible precision during her reign as the featured prima ballerina of her generation. She’d taken that dedication to perfection with her when she opened her own company. She had an unshakeable level of expectation in any dancer she accepted into her ballet. Nadia wasn’t only a legend, she had been my role model. I would have cut off the big toe on my right foot to have her notice me. Of course, doing so would have made dancing on pointe virtually impossible, but it was the thought that counted.
“She’s dead,” he said evenly. “I’m her oldest son. My brother Yuri and I are now co-owners of the company.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. She was an incredible woman,” I said sincerely, momentarily forgetting I was pissed off. How could I not have known she’d passed away at far too young an age? Then again, considering my life had not only gone to hell, but I’d purposely kept my involvement with anything having to do with that past life restricted to giving classes to children who didn’t know how to plié without looking like awkward frogs, it really wasn’t all that surprising.
“She was,” he said, not revealing any further information, but the tone in which he said those two words let me know he was sincere.
Suddenly remembering that I wasn’t interested but was anxious to get this guy out of my driveway, I quickly shot back, “Do you not know my history? Do you not know what I did?”
He didn’t flinch at the anger in my voice. “I’m aware you walked right off the stage in the middle of a production, leaving a company already reeling from the loss of one prima ballerina without their second. That your actions practically destroyed the entire company all because you were a jealous bitch,” he said without so much as a blink of an eye. While I fought not to reach out and scratch that asinine look right off his face, he shrugged. “Or at least that’s what people have accused you of.”
Okay, so this smug bastard had no fucking clue. Volkov or not, it was obvious he hadn’t been in the ballet scene for long, and he didn’t know shit about the world of dance. Maybe his mother had shielded him from everything. Because to me, anybody who knew anything about ballet, especially people who were privy to the exclusive bubble prima ballerinas were kept in, knew every sordid detail.
“That’s the tip of the iceberg,” I said. I wasn’t proud of what I’d done, but I didn’t have the energy to explain why I’d made those choices. He didn’t press for details, as if it didn’t bother him in the least, which had me wondering what in the hell was going on with the company he’d inherited. If he was coming to me, he was either desperate or far too inept to run a successful ballet company. But I didn’t care either way as I was far too jaded and way too exhausted to waste another moment on his problems. “Look, if you don’t know the rest, then you really shouldn’t be coming to me with talks of contracts.” I moved to step around him but was stopped when he shifted to block my exit.
“Then tell me,” he said. “Make me understand why a career as promising as my mother’s came to a screeching halt.”
At the mention of my idol, I hung my head in shame for a second, allowing my hair to fall over my eyes. Did this man really want to know everything? Should I tell him about the ambition of a girl barely out of her teens? The shallowness of one wanting desperately to fit in? How I’d not only dated a man old enough to be my father but all the terrible things I’d done from the moment I’d met the bastard? How he’d cost me my pride and almost my life? Should I mention the sex, the drugs I’d swallowed like candy, or the alcohol chasers I’d downed? I figured it would simply take one look online to reveal it all anyway, so if he really needed to know that badly, he could find out for himself. But at the same time, I did need him to go away, so I decided it more expedient to tell him anything to get his Audi sedan out of my driveway.
“Look,” I said in the firmest tone I was capable of using, “I am not the sort of woman you want representing your theater, I can assure you. I left that world behind a long time ago. And even if I hadn’t, I’m not in a position to dance anyway.”
“Your past—” he began, but I refused to let him get a word in edgewise.
“I need to look after my grandmother. She needs me here.” I shook my head, wanting him to understand this wasn’t going to happen no matter how hard he tried. “I look after her twenty-four seven. I can’t take on any other responsibilities. Not now. So, hop back in your car, and go find yourself another ballerina.”
I turned my back to him and started to walk around the trunk of his car, but he wasn’t about to be deterred. He called out behind me regardless, “If you change your mind, you should come over to dance with the others at the theater in your free time. One free month as my treat. You might actually find Volkov Ballet to be a cool place. Welcoming. And, starting the day after tomorrow, we are holding auditions to fill some holes. I would really like to see what you still have. I have a feeling even though you may be a bit rusty, that dancer is still in you.” That little smirk of his returned. “I could be wrong though. Maybe you are too out of shape to bother. One of the younger women may dance rings around you.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows? But it’s up to you if you want to prove you are still the prima ballerina you were destined to be before you threw it all away.”
Not wanting to fall for his trap of goading me, I stalked back inside. Resisting the urge to look back and be hypnotized by his mesmerizing good looks, I slammed the door behind me, making my feelings on the subject very clear.