His gaze travels back up to my mouth. His fingertips dig into my shoulder as he starts pulling me closer. My breathing grows more rapid; my heartbeat roars in my ears.
I want to feel his kiss more than anything. But I haven’t forgotten how it felt to have Calum look at me and say that he doesn’t want me anymore.
My hand comes up, slapping him on the cheek hard and fast. His eyes widen. He raises his hand, touching his cheek.
I shudder, wrenching my shoulder out from his grasp. “I’m not some toy that you can take down from the shelf whenever you feel like playing, Calum. I know you are richer than Croesus, but I’m not a street walker. I have some dignity, if you’ll let me.”
He scowls. “I’m telling you, beauty. I broke things off with you because I was being blackmailed…”
Holding up a hand, I shake my head. “I don’t care. I don’t want to see you again.” I pause, dragging in a shaking breath. “And don’t you dare call me beauty. Not after tossing me aside.”
With that, I turn away, moving swiftly down the passage. I hear Calum calling my name. But there are tears gathering in my eyes and I’m too fucking proud to let him know how deeply he’s hurt me.
4
Calum
Everyone lives with regrets. Every single person has a few moments that they replay when they should be sleeping. Wondering if they had just said or done something differently, the outcome would have been much better.
The early morning light breaks through the gaps between the towering buildings of downtown Manhattan. As they slide by my chauffeured car window, I find myself ruminating on mistakes and regrets. I have always been a leader, always felt certain about making multimillion dollar deals that would affect literally hundreds or thousands of my employees.
But just now, as I stare out the window, I must admit to having made a mistake in dealing with Kaia. I’ve done so many gutsy boardroom deals in my lifetime, with little or no eye toward the feelings of anyone else involved. I always felt like anyone who whined about a merger or a new direction was ungrateful and unreliable.
But looking into Kaia’s face after she slapped me? The hurt and fury that I saw dancing in her eyes was itself a blow. It was only at that moment that I really started to feel like I might have fucked up.
More than that. I was tantalizingly close to pulling her into my arms and kissing her anyway. I missed the shape of her small body pressed against mine.
But what am I supposed to do about it? How can I make Kaia come back to me?
I don’t have an answer for that yet.
The limousine pulls up outside the New York Ballet. I get out, stretching. The building itself is no work of fine art; in fact, from here, it looks like an oversized cement brick. It’s funny that it hides such a gem inside; the ballet has really been my touchstone, my grounding influence in a materialistic world.
Slowly making my way up the broad gray steps, I check my phone. I stop when I see a message from Devereaux, the private investigator I sometimes use. I asked him to check up on Honor, to find any kind of dirt that I could use against her in my blackmail battle.
My lips curl up as I scan through the documents he’s sent me. It’s the first time I have felt like smiling in ages. Gripping my phone, I look up and push open the huge glass door of the NYB.
I trot up the stairs, nearly running smack into a distressed-looking Emma. She smoothes a hand down her charcoal pants suit and gives me a wide-eyed look.
“Honor is derailing a dress rehearsal by throwing a fit about her costume,” she grits out. “I have no idea what you two have worked out between yourselves. But she’s even harder to work with than before! She’s really giving prima donnas a bad name.”
I flash her a grin. “I’m going to take care of her right now. And by take care of her, I mean fire her. You’d better have a good dancer in place as her understudy.”
Emma’s brows rise. “I think so. We… lost… Kaia. So I put Ella in as Honor’s understudy.”
I give her a hard look. “Do you want Honor fired or not?”
She nods quickly. “Yes.”
I straighten my tie, smiling grimly. “Okay then.” I brush past her.
From the click of her heels on the granite floor, it becomes clear that Emma follows me toward the auditorium. But I’m focused on the task at hand. When I throw open the double doors to the high-ceilinged space, I’m immediately confronted by a red-faced Honor.
She’s standing in the middle of the stage, hands on her hips. All the other dancers are sitting down on the stage, riveted by the drama that is unfolding. One of the male dancers casually films the fight on his phone. Gathering evidence for a future lawsuit, maybe.
Honor yells at Sam, the diminutive silver-haired man who hand-sews all the costumes. He’s as pale as a ghost and trembling like a leaf.
“If you can’t make the costume in exactly the way I’m telling you to make it, I think you should quit your job right now!”
Sam tries to speak up. “But Honor, it’s hardly my fault that your measurements keep changing—“
She stomps her foot petulantly. “Is it too much to ask that you use corseting to make the size of my top fit better? Jesus!”
“But corsets aren’t recommended for women who are… in your condition,” he argues.
I stride down the aisle, clapping my hands. “That’s enough,” I boom. I feel all eyes turn toward me. “Rehearsal is dismissed for the next hour. Sam, you can return to your work backstage.”
Sam sends me a wide-eyed look but doesn’t argue. He just looks relieved as he scurries off. In the wings, all the dancers begin getting up and walking backstage.
Honor levels a black glare at me. “And just what do you think you’re doing?”
My lips twist. “My job. The New York Ballet asked me to stage manage. And for the last month, I’ve been allowing you to run things as you saw fit.”
Honor rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “You haven’t been much of a stage manager. And even Bas hasn’t been at the last couple of rehearsals—“
“Shut up,” I say loudly, cutting her off. “You’re fired.”
I feel Emma at my right elbow. She clutches my arm excitedly when I announce it, but I keep my eyes on Honor.
Honor’s lips curl upward into a sarcastic smile. “Are you insane? Surely you have lost your senses. You can’t fire me.”
I straighten on of my starches cuffs. “Yes, I can. If anyone wants to know why, I’ll just ask around for video of you berating and belittling a staff member in front of everyone. Something tells me that people will rush to provide evidence.”
She makes a sour expression. “I think you have forgotten that I know things about you. Things that would see you not just fired from your position here, but probably tarred and feathered too.”
A thin smile spreads across my lips. Out of the corner of my eye, I look at Emma. “Give us a minute alone.”
Emma is looking at me a little suspiciously. But she nods nonetheless. “I’ll go check on the rest of the dancers.”
She turns and vanishes out the doors, leaving Honor and I the only two in the cavernous theater. I stalk toward the stage, already pulling my phone out of my jacket.