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Thank fuck.
It’s a good thing I didn’t leap from the vehicle because the couple behind me would have thought I've lost my mind. Hell, maybe I have. I've never felt so connected with someone by just one look.
It’s insane, but I feel like I'll die if I don't find out who this girl is.
As if the universe is throwing me a bone, the woman behind me squeals and points at my angel. “Oh look, honey! There she is!”
“There who is?” he asks, peering through the window.
My hands tighten on the wheel again, and I have to fight the urge to rip his eyes from his sockets as his gaze roves over my angel.
“You know, the girl who played the lead in tonight's performance,” his wife gushes. “Bella Maslinski.”
Bella Maslinski.
The name sears itself into my brain. I watch Bella and the other girl get into a limo. As much as I'm dying to follow it and see where she goes, I know I have to take this couple home, but I have enough to go on now. I have her name.
And before the night is over, I'll know everything there is to know about Bella Maslinski.
CHAPTERTWO
Bella
“So,you still insist on doing this?” My father frowns at me, and my heart drops. All the elation I felt in the aftermath of my performance and seeing my sister evaporates. I deflate like a popped balloon.
My father has a tendency of doing that to me. It's like any time the man can sense that I'm the least bit happy, he comes along more than ready to pop my bubble.
Sometimes I wonder if he hates me.
“Yes,” I answer him simply. I don't bother pointing out to him how good everyone says I am. It doesn’t matter. His mind is made up. He thinks it’s silly. He doesn't approve of me pursuing a career in dance. He lets me take dance lessons only because it looks good on my resume, and now that I’m eighteen, he technically can't stop me from dancing.
I know that's the only reason why he continues to put up with it.
However, he can stop me from getting my own place. He's never allowed me to have a job other than dance, and he's made itveryclear what is expected of me.
My father is a powerful politician, and just like he married my sister off to further his connections, I know the same is my destiny.
I've never been on a date or had a boyfriend. I'm supposed to wait until my father chooses the best candidate, and then I’m supposed to just fall in line with what he wants. I've always accepted that.
The one thing I've always stubbornly ground my heels in about, though, is dance. I want something—just one fucking thing that's my own. And when I'm on stage dancing, I'm free. I can be myself and not the little porcelain doll that he expects me to be.
My father has never attended one of my dances. My sister would come if she could, but she can't ever get away from her responsibilities. My sister is ten years older than me. She's more like the mother I never knew. My sister remembers our mother, of course, but she died shortly after giving birth to me.
I’m sad I don’t remember her, but my sister tells me our mother was amazing. But if that's the case, I don't know how she ever ended up with a heartless dictator like my father. All my father thinks about is money and power, and he'll use whatever resources he has at his disposal to get his way—even his own daughters.
Yeah, he's a great guy—not.
He frowns at me again before he turns and walks out of the room, muttering to himself.
I don't pay him any mind. I just go upstairs to my room. I'm used to his disapproval by now. It seems like I can't do anything to make him happy, so I stopped trying a long time ago. Our relationship is what it is. He dictates, and I obey. For the most part, I don't act out—so long as he lets me continue to dance. It's the one concession he's made because it’s the one thing that keeps me in line.
As I'm crawling into bed, I hear a knock on my door. “Yes?” I call out, a ball of dread already settling in the pit of my stomach. Whatever he wants, it can’t be good. My father rarely seeks me out unless it’s something business related.
He opens the door long enough to poke his head in and confirm my suspicions, “Oh by the way, I don't want you going out anymore until I hire you your own personal chauffeur.”
I just nod, my heart sinking. It's not that he's concerned about my safety. I know what this is. It's a way to keep me in check and make sure I don't do more than dancing—as if I would dare to defy him.
I know what he's doing. He's making sure that nothing happens to his prize mare before he has a chance to pawn me off.
