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“You’ll do as you’re told.” I nod once. It’s better to be obedient when my mother is in this state—or any state, really.
“I wish I could take you and leave, my sweet pie.” I wished that, too. I also wished she was my mother. At least she never hurts me and she makes me feel comfortable. At least she likes me. Mom doesn’t.
That’s why I don’t do it anymore. That’s why I want to get used to pain, so I won’t need to cry.
Nothing good ever comes without pain. Since I was a little girl, that fact has been cemented into my head with bloodstained fingers. I was born from pain, raised by pain, and eventually embraced it. However, no matter how much pain I’ve had to endure, I’ve never managed to become numb to it. Not even when I went out of my way to train my body for it. Pain is real, suffocating, and with the right amount of pressure, it’s bound to break my every last barrier. My endurance is stronger, though.
“My most beautiful prima ballerina. You were a work of art tonight, Lia chérie.” “Thank you, Philippe.” I pull my hand back as swiftly as I can and wince when a tendon aches in my left leg. I need to get a pain patch on that as soon as possible. “Do not thank me. I’m the one who’s honored to have a muse like you.”
That’s probably why I have no friends. Some kiss my ass for their own benefit, then stab me in the back, and others are malicious about everything.
“Maybe the producers will finally realize how much of a fucking talentless bitch you actually are.” I stare at her. Thankfully, she’s not tall enough to look down on me. “If you rehearsed as hard as you run your mouth, you’d probably have a chance at taking some lead roles from me.”
Her words don’t sting. Not only are they untrue, but I’ve also heard such jabs from the entire ballet troupe over the years. In the beginning, I wanted to prove I’m no whore and that I got this far by torturing myself, but I soon realized it was pointless. People will think what they want to think. So now I’ve grown accustomed to them, but at the same time, I won’t allow Hannah or anyone else to walk all over me. Squaring my shoulders, I say with mocking calm, “Until then, you’ll have to remain Miss Number Two.”
One isn’t a producer, though. Far from it. His dark gray eyes lock with mine and I lose my footing. But I save it at the last second, landing on my feet instead of on pointe as per the choreography. He’s here. The stranger has come back.
I never pay attention to the audience, because they interfere with my performance and my interpretation of the character’s emotions. The only time I look at them is once I’m done and everything is finished. Now is different. Now, I can feel his intense cold eyes piercing into me and peering inside my head. In a way, it feels like everyone else has disappeared and he’s the only presence I can sense. The only person who’s watching me. Just like Albrecht was watching Giselle that day and became infatuated with her.
“I never said I would answer them all.” “That’s not fair.” “Fair is for weak people, Lia. You’ve been in a monstrous world long enough to realize fairness doesn’t really exist.” “It does exist, even if people like you are doing their best to erase it.”
“That doesn’t make you a hero.” “A hero is the last thing I want to be. Selflessness has never been my thing.” “So you would rather be the villain?” “A villain is the hero in his own story, so why not?” “The villain always loses.” “In Disney films. In your ballet performances, perhaps. In real life, however, the villain is the one who always wins.”
My dark stranger. The killer. The tormentor. Adrian.
That after he gets me, he’ll realize, like everyone else has, that I’m not a keeper. I’m a diamond others admire from afar, but once they dig into it, all they find is black stone.
If it were a few days ago, I would’ve told them all about Lia Morelli, but after today, she’ll remain locked between me and myself. She’s now my secret. Dirty. Dangerous. And entirely fucked-up.
“Touch her again and I’ll make sure you’re paralyzed for life.”
“What if I want to have a choice?” “Too late.” He stares at me with those unnerving eyes. “I already claimed you as mine and there’s no going back.”
“Just so you know, the prettiest roses have the deadliest thorns.”
“I’m not going to be your spy, Luca.” “Why not?” “It’s Adrian. He’ll know.” “He won’t.” “How can you be so sure?” “He’s blinded by you.” My lips part. “Blinded by me? You must be kidding.” “I’m not. For the first time in his life, the meticulous Adrian Volkov is letting a woman close. If that’s not a weakness, I don’t know what is.”
“Was your stepmom evil?” A distant nostalgic look fills his eyes. “It was the other way around. My mother was the villain and my stepmom was the real-life Disney princess who didn’t get saved.”
Lia isn’t the other woman. She’s the woman. And I’m not my fucking father.
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.
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
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“Scars mean you are alive and strong enough to survive.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll worship each of your scars until you’re able to face them, Lenochka.”
Since my youth, I’ve learned to stop wishing for things, because they won’t come true. I grew up and made things happen on my own. So knowing that, how come I find myself wishing for a different outcome for Lia’s career?
When I’m done with this scum, he’ll disappear as if he never existed. Just like her career. This is my form of fucking justice.
“I wasn’t going to let you talk about me as if I were an object and stay quiet about it. I might have lost my dream, but I haven’t lost my pride and self-worth. I won’t allow you or your stupid bosses to humiliate me.”
Adrian’s monstrously beautiful face contorts and I hold his gaze as I mute the sounds he loves to hear so much. He took away my freedom. I’m taking away his pleasure. Adrian might have started as the only one with power, but I’m slowly finding mine. I might not have guns or an army of guards, but I’ll kill him with silence.
I try to ignore his presence, his touch, and his wood and leather scent that’s become stronger over the past couple of weeks. But it’s impossible to erase Adrian, no matter how much I try. Not only because he forced me to marry him, but also because of everything he does. The way he cares for me, how he sits beside me on the sofa and places my feet on his lap to massage them. Since the cast was removed, he’s been taking care of rubbing oil on my leg. I don’t even like to look at the hideous scar right beneath my knee, but he takes over the task with effortless ease. I hate how he holds my hair
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It’s odd how I never focused on it when I used to drive to and from rehearsal, but humans don’t realize what they’re missing until it’s snatched away from them.
“No, but that’s what most people do whenever they learn I have mental health issues.” “I’m not most people.” “You…you don’t think I’m broken?” “So what if you are. It’s what makes you who you are.” My lips part. It’s like he’s saying he likes me just as I am. Broken and all. “You don’t have to hide your pills from me, Lia.”
When I stared at that poster, it took everything in me not to cry. To force myself to turn around and not get caught up in how the world moved along and I didn’t.
I don’t usually revel in torture, but I’ll enjoy every fucking second of making those assholes talk before I kill them. No one threatens my family and lives.
After Aunt Annika’s death, I considered myself without a family. This is the first time I’ve felt like I have a family again. Lia and Jeremy. If I have to destroy the world and everything in it to keep them safe, so be it.
I tilt my head to meet his gaze. He looks so rugged and handsome, but the devil is always beautiful, isn’t he?
His quiet voice fills the air. “You’ll make it a habit, won’t you? No matter what I do to make you happy and comfortable, no matter how much I try to make progress with us, you will try to escape every chance you get.”
Adrian’s presence sends a mixture of relief and a stab of chronic agony to my aching chest. One-sided emotions are the work of the devil. Not only do they hurt all the time, but they also keep me hoping, pining. Even when I know that Adrian isn’t capable of returning such emotions. I know he cares. I know Jeremy and I mean something to him, but it’ll never be more than that. He’ll never look at me the way I secretly look at him when he’s not paying attention. And that hurts more than I care to admit.
The face of a killer. I finished a life and signed the death sentence of my innocence. But the possibility of Adrian using me all this time might as well have issued the death sentence to my heart and soul.
I’ll have to gradually get him away from her until she gets back to normal. While I hate separating them, it’s for his own good. I know what childhood fucking trauma is and my son will not relive my life. I can at least protect him like my father was unable to.
“Are you okay, Mommy?” She pulls away from me and smiles at him. “Yes, angel. Mommy just had a bad dream.” He points a finger at me. “Papa will make them all go away.”
“Understand this, Lia. I might not hurt you, might not fucking kill you, even though you deserve it, but I’ll find that bastard, and when I do, I’ll fuck you in front of him before I slice his fucking throat. Then I’ll fuck you again in the pool of his blood.” I release her neck and she sucks in deep breaths, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Protect him while you can.”
