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“Huh?”
“Yes!” She claps her hands. “It would be the perfect opportunity for him to see your Giselle and for us to spy on the man who got your heart.”
“He doesn’t have my heart,” I say defensively, then pause at the thought Stephanie just planted in my head.
Should I invite Adrian?
Since he’s part of the reason for how I shaped my Giselle, I’m sure I’ll perform even better knowing he’s there.
Or worse.
I shouldn’t take that risk, but at the same time, a part of me wants him there. In the midst of the thousand strangers, I want to step onto the stage, knowing Adrian’s among them.
“I guess I can ask him,” I tell Stephanie, who squeals.
“I’m getting you a VIP ticket.” She winks at me and hurries down the hall.
I laugh at her enthusiasm and go in to change.
Half an hour later, I’m wearing a blue dress with a double V-neck, complementing the look with a dainty sterling silver necklace—the only memory I have of Mom.
My heart tugs at the reminder of her and I tuck those black memories to the back of my brain. I wear low heels and let my hair fall in loose waves down my shoulders before I put on my coat and meet Stephanie and Philippe.
She shoves a VIP ticket in my hand, grinning like an idiot.
“Chérie.” Philippe kisses my cheek as we walk to his car. “I’m glad you could join us.”
“I won’t make it a habit.”
“I’m happy with what I can get. Don’t spoil my fun.”
We leave the theater together in the midst of glares from other dancers. I learned to tune out their envy a long time ago. Adrian was right, in a way. If I care too much, I’ll be the only one who suffers.
Matt, who’s tall and obese, meets us at the venue where the event is being held. Apparently, it’s the opening for some subsidiary of a large corporation named V Corp. Our producer has associates here and owns some shares. While leading us inside, he keeps reminding us to be on our best behavior like we’re children.
The hall is enormous and majestic as is expected of a large corporation. Gold glitters everywhere as if they want to shove the fact that they have money down everyone’s throats.
Men in tuxedos and women in gowns are scattered all around, chatting happily.
I’m glad Philippe and Stephanie ignore the commotion, choosing to attack the long lines of the buffet and the open bar.
I climb onto a stool and wait for them to stop arguing over which food is fattening and join me.
“What can I get you, miss?” the bartender asks.
“Nothing.” The voice coming from my right gives me pause.
The young bartender pales before he retreats to the corner, going to serve the customer farthest away from me.
I stare up to find Yan, Adrian’s younger guard with the long hair, standing by my side, his face as stoic as usual. “You need to leave, miss.”
That’s the first time he’s ever addressed me in the month I’ve known Adrian. He has a subtle Russian accent that resembles Adrian’s, but it’s less sophisticated.
Wait. If Yan is here, does that mean his boss is here, too?
I hate the fluttering in my belly as I stare around Yan, searching for the most threatening and dangerous man in the room.
“Miss.” Yan repeats, impatiently this time.
