Tempted by Deception (Deception Trilogy #2) by Rina Kent

“Mistresses?” I bite out, finishing for him.

He gives a hesitant nod.

“I’m nobody’s mistress,” I mutter from between gritted teeth. “If I have to fight Adrian tooth and nail to not be one, I will.”

“Please don’t.” He retrieves a pack of cigarettes. “May I?”

“Sure, I’m used to the smell.” I pause. “What did you mean by what you just said?”

He lights a cigarette and takes a long drag, then releases it through his nostrils. “If you use violence against him, you’ll be met with violence. I don’t have to tell you who will win in that case.”

“Do you suggest I stay silent?”

“I never said that. Just…be smart about it, miss. That’s the only way you can get anything from him. Boss is a practical man, and while he might seem robotic at times, he weighs everything and will always choose logic above anything else.”

I mull his words over in my head, finding them true. Going at Adrian full force would just blow up in my face.

“Thank you,” I say. At least Yan isn’t as desensitized as his boss.

He raises both hands in the air. “I said nothing. Don’t get me in trouble.”

I smile a little before getting in my car, and when I head out, Yan follows close behind me in his Mercedes. After the talk we just had, I don’t feel as stifled. He’s just doing what he was ordered to do.

At rehearsal, I go through the final motions and preparations. Costume designers and makeup artists are all gathered to make sure there are no loose ends.

Philippe tells me to do one last demonstration with Ryan because he wants to see his grasp of the emotions.

We do a few routines in which Philippe criticizes his laziness. Ryan says he had a cramp and will take care of it with the company’s physician.

The staff buzz around the empty theater and the other dancers stand behind the curtains, watching us. Stephanie, Philippe, and a few of their assistants are on stage as we’re about to perform the routine one final time.

I wipe the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand. I overworked my ankles today and I will pay a visit to Dr. Kim later.

The scene is a solo between me and Albrecht, played by Ryan. It’s when I choose to save his life even after he doomed me to death. He didn’t do it on purpose, but my life ended as soon as I knew he had a fucking fiancée. A princess.

It’s where love proves what it truly is, a masochistic feeling where you want the best for the one you love despite what they’ve done to you.

Bullshit.

I twirl on pointe for a few seconds, then jump into Ryan’s arms a fraction of a second early. He extends his hands, but he misses by a breath.

It’s a single breath.

Just one.

Time freezes for a moment and everything turns into white noise.

Both of our eyes widen as I land in an unnatural position. Shock ripples through my leg and then a haunting, ugly sound echoes in the air.

Pop.





22





Lia





It’s a nightmare.

I wait for it to end.

For reality to kick back in.

I’ve had a thousand nightmares about breaking my ankle, my hip, my leg.

But no matter how gory or frightening they are, I wake up.

I write notes about them to remind myself they aren’t real.

Not this time.

Now, the searing pain is a constant reminder that this is far from a nightmare.

This is reality.

I lie on the hospital bed, my leg in a cast and propped up high on a wedge.

I broke my tibia and the bone punctured the skin. I’ll never forget the sight of the bloody white rod protruding through my torn flesh. A surgery was needed to set the bone back in place, one I entered in a state of shock and exited numb.

I held on to the hope that the whole ordeal would be over with the surgery. That Dr. Kim would tell me it was just fatigue, that I should take my pills and everything would be fine.

He didn’t.

Instead, he said the words that almost always end a dancer’s or an athlete’s career, “We were able to set the bone back in place and suture the wound so that the scarring will be minimal. Fortunately, the fibula wasn’t broken, but there will be a permanent deformation near your knee. With rehabilitation, you’ll be able to walk normally again and run sometimes, but not for long. A full recovery is, unfortunately, virtually impossible.”

In other words, I’ll never be able to be a ballerina again.

I’m still not grasping it fully, and it’s not only because of the doctor’s words. I think I heard the end of my career with that pop and the silence and gasps that followed from everyone present.

But at that point, I was still praying for the nightmares that have scared me my whole life. I want the nightmare.

Someone give me the nightmare.

Dr. Kim asks me if he should call someone close, but I don’t have anyone. People have friends and family, I have ballet. I sacrificed my youth and my life for it. I survived my parents’ deaths and relocating from one country to another with it.

When people went clubbing, I went to rehearsals. When they slept, I timed my stretches and the care of my ankles. When others ate real food, I settled for apples or a salad.

I never considered it a sacrifice or a chore, because I was doing something I loved. Something I was damn good at. I was living my dream and getting rid of my excess energy through flying where no one could catch me.