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He was fucking obsessed, and Diana’s phone call had only made it worse.
“That's it, baby,” he murmured as Sonia shuddered, yielding her ass with a sensual moan. “We’ll give each other everything we need.”
It was never going to happen.
But in the fantasy, he encouraged her to accept him. And he heard his brother’s voice:You gotta at least try.
4
Saturday
Eight days before the wedding
7:36 p.m.
They weren’t there.
Stepping back from the wings, Sonia’s hands fell to her sides. It was stupid to expect the least reliable people in her life to show up to her dance performance, even if it might be the last one the company ever put on.
But sometimes she had hope, though she knew better. So she’d sent her parents the details again, after texting them months ago, and invited them to come down from Baltimore.
Smoothing her matching white leotard and short mesh skirt, Sonia stalked away from the empty stage. It didn’t matter. In fact, it was better this way. She’d started this company to be free of everyone else’s expectations, to exercise creative control. If her parents showed up, it would only throw a wrench in things.
Beyond the wings, nine other dancers were hanging out backstage, chatting, stretching, drinking water, and putting on makeup. Sonia could hear them, but they couldn’t see her.
Her friend Elena’s voice rose above the hubbub: “Trust me, we’ll survive. Sonia won’t let this company fail.”
Trevor’s voice followed, dry and sarcastic. “We all know it’s her life’s blood, but she’s gonna have to hustle to raise the money. Maybe she should find us a sugar daddy. ”
Elena and Trevor had danced with her at Yale. They’d become friends, though Sonia didn’t make friends easily. True friends, the ones you let in, were hard to come by. Her mind flicked to Diana and Ian, the other people she wished were in the audience.
“If anyone can hustle, it’s Sonia,” Elena assured Trevor. “No sugar daddies needed. I have faith in that girl.”
Hustle.It was what Sonia had been doing for the past twelve months — longer, really — when all she truly wanted was to choreograph and dance. She felt alive, larger than life, onstage and in the studio. Outside of that, she was drained. But she couldn’t let this company, her baby, slip through her fingers.
It was unprofessional to walk to the wings again and look out one more time, but Sonia couldn’t help herself. Right when she needed to be strong, she was weak. Right when excitement should be charging her veins, she felt tentative and fragile. She should use this time to focus her energy and send it soaring, but instead, she sneaked a last glance into the audience.
Straight into a pair of bright hazel eyes.
A tingle raced through Sonia’s body. For the briefest second, she thought she saw Ian. It would have meant the world to her if he and Diana had driven the seven hours down from Connecticut.
But no. This was the wrong twin. There was no Diana at his side, and he wore a crisp blue button-down shirt with a gold tie, an outfit Ian wouldn’t be caught dead in. His wavy brown hair was brushed, and his jaw was smooth shaven.
Brendan fucking O’Brian.
Sitting in the audience like he had for every single show the company had given, thinking she wouldn’t notice him. How idiotic did he think she was? But instead of lurking in the back row, he was front and center, staring back at her with a weirdly determined intensity.
To her shock, he got to his feet, leaving an enormous bouquet of stargazer lilies on the seat, and headed straight for her.
Sonia stared at the lilies, then at Brendan, her pulse driving faster. She wondered if the O’Brian twins had a secret triplet stashed away, because this was not Brendan behavior. He wasn’t flashing a bright, dimpled smile. He wasn’t offering that slick, patented wink. And he wasn’t avoiding her gaze, which had happened a lot on his visits to Yale.
When his eyes locked on hers, she couldn’t look away.
If only he weren’t so goddamned pretty.
No matter how hard she tried to ignore Brendan fucking O’Brian, she’d never been able to. He was all warmth and charm, like a drug that had been patented to put the world at ease. No wonder the slimeball landed in politics. The way he sauntered around — so thoroughly fake, such an insincere little shit — made Sonia wonder what lay beneath his surface.
He disgusted her. He turned her on. She hated the combination.
