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Viktor purposely made me forget.
With his kiss, all the worry and pain seeped out of my body, leaving me breathless and limp in his arms.
When we pulled away, he laid his forehead against mine. He appeared just as breathless. I watched his lips as he spoke, not wanting to miss anything. “They were in the nightstand. I found them in your drawer.”
My eyes squeezed shut at his words. Viktor had brought out something from my past—something I wanted to forget. A part of me that was stolen and ripped into shreds right in front of my eyes.
“Valerie! Valerie!”
My head snapped up at my name being called. Turning around, I saw the director coming my way. I waved, letting him know I heard him.
He came to stand in front of me, breathless, but his eyes were shining with admiration and happiness. “I thought you were gonna leave and I wouldn’t be able to give you the news.”
I smiled back at the show of his enthusiasm. “What news?”
“You are going to want to sit down for this,” he said, pointing at the bench behind me.
Mathew Easton was a middle-aged man, married with two kids and another one on the way. His father owned this theater before him, and now it was his.
To him, we weren’t his investments or just his dancers. We were more. He built us, made us who we were today. A perfect unit. The perfect dancers that everyone admired. Funnily, he liked to call us his little petals. His children. Together, we were a family built on the same ground—the same passion that lived in us.
Ballet.
“Sit down,” he ordered again. I did as I was told. Sitting down, I bent forward and started to unlace my ballet flats.
My feet were sore, but I smiled at the pain. Hours and hours of dancing, doing the one thing I loved the most in the world, had brought me beautiful pain.
“Now will you tell me what has gotten you so excited?” I questioned with a raised eyebrow.
“This is big, Valerie. I am almost sad that I will lose you after this. But Goddamn it, I am so happy for you,” he mumbled before taking a deep breath.
Confused, I only stared at him mutely. Mr. Easton sighed and handed me the portfolio he was holding. Taking it from his hands, I opened it and read the first paper.
I saw my name in bold letters, and my heart stuttered as I continued reading. No way! Impossible. I read the paper again. And again. Maybe three times.
“You are the best dancer I have, Valerie. At such a young age, you have come so far. Only eighteen—not a lot of dancers can do this,” he continued when I stayed silent.
“This…” I started but then broke off. Tears blinded my vision. “How…I don’t…”
I was in shock—my heart in tatters as I read the words again. My body trembled with the force of my happiness.
“Remember the last dance? That was our best performance. A few people from The Royal Opera House were our guests. They saw you, Valerie. They approached me after the performance. Their director wanted you as one of his dancers. Not just one of his—he wants you to play his female lead.” Matthew paused when I still hadn’t said a word.
I was…speechless. This was my dream. But it felt so surreal.
Mr. Easton sighed and placed a hand on my shoulders. I looked up at him through tearful eyes. He gave me a small gentle smile, his own happiness evident in his eyes. “He said he will send an official invitation. I didn’t believe him at first. I thought he was just being nice, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to get your hopes up. But then this arrived in the mail today. The real invitation. Your name in golden bold letters, Valerie.”
“He wants me to dance for The Royal Opera House in London? One of the most famous ballet theatres? As the female lead?” I finally choked out.
He nodded and touched the paper on my lap. “Yes. He is only asking for one performance. For now. But like the invitations says—if you want and like his theatre, he would like to hire you as his female lead. He’s asking for one dance for now—and I am sure if this is a success, which I know it will be, he might just rope you in as an official female lead dance. You might be able continue with The Royal Opera House.”
I closed the portfolio and jumped up. Mr. Easton staggered back when I wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him tight.
He laughed and patted me on my back. “I guess that’s a yes?”
Instead of answering, the tears continued to fall down my cheeks. I sobbed into his chest, feeling too overwhelmed to do anything else.
