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Elena
You’d think a career-ending moment like almost snapping your ankle in the middle of a dance performance would be enough to get a girl some privacy. Apparently not. Well, not when you were as rich as Hugh James.
He barged into the dressing room I was taken to, where bags of ice were hastily applied to my rapidly swelling ankle.
“Elena! What happened?” Hugh asked in the nasal whine that passed for a voice.
“What do you think happened? You have eyes,” I bit out. I was mad as hell. My hopes and dreams were in tatters around me as I lay there, prone and helpless. Hugh was a great target for my wrath.
“I mean, what is that other dancer going to do about this?” Hugh demanded.
“Nothing. It’s not his fault,” I said woodenly.
Was it Elliot’s fault? Maybe, but nerves are difficult to control, and I should’ve been more cautious. In these situations, there was no one person to blame. Things happened fast, and luck was a huge factor.
I’d never had a stroke of good luck, so it fit with my track record.
“Not his fault? He maimed you!” Hugh gestured to my leg, his piggish eyes shying away from the brutal reality.
It was swelling quickly, and my foot was bloodied where my unforgiving pointe shoe had cut into the ball. It was elevated now, but it would only darken with bruising and further swelling later. A dancer’s ankle, foot, toes, you name it, were like sophisticated machines. One grain of sand in the processor and it was fried.
“It’ll heal,” I said quietly, uncertainly.
Hugh scoffed.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why do you care, anyway?”
“Because you know I admire you, esteem you… support you however I can.”
“And your pet ballerina won’t be able to perform for you on cue, so you’re mad? There’s nothing between us, Hugh. Stop pretending that there is. If anything, you’re a man who can’t take a hint who thinks your wealth entitles you to my time. It doesn’t.” My tone could cut glass.
Hugh smiled and shook his head slightly. Something about that smile sent a warning tingling through my body.“You’re a dumb bitch, aren’t you, Elena?”
His words shocked me. Hugh had only ever been courteous, if not supremely annoying, before now. But it was as if his good guy mask had slipped and the ugly, entitled bully underneath was showing.
“Excuse me?” Despite being unable to move, I wasn’t about to back down.
“Are you deaf as well as stupid? I said you’re dumb. You could have gone on a few dates with me, taken me home, and been set for life. Instead, you ignored me, pushed me away. Now look at you. Pitiful. Broken.”
Tears sprang up behind my eyes and I blinked them away furiously. I refused to cry in front of this man. I wasn’t upset about his mean, crude words. I was upset because I couldn’t spring up and slap him.
“But that’s okay because I’m feeling generous. I’ll give you a pity fuck and a thousand dollars for fun. I’m sure you’re going to need help with the hospital bills. I can be persuaded for the right…enticement,” he sneered, leaning closer to touch my face.
That was his mistake. My hand flew at his face, and I raked my nails down his cheek, leaving a furrow of red slashes in their wake.
Hugh cursed and fell backward. “You fucking bitch!” His roar shook the walls of the dressing room. “You’ll pay for that,” he spat, lunging toward me. His civilized veneer was gone, leaving a mean, privileged asshole with an ugly mouth in its place.
“I don’t think so,” an unfamiliar voice cut through the tension in the room like a knife.
Something in that voice sent my spine snapping straight and my senses on high alert. It contained a level of control and power that Hugh could never hope to match.
Hugh spun toward the doorway, where a man in an expensive dark suit was lounging against the doorframe. The mysterious newcomer was all man. Tall and broad, he looked like he’d be more at home on a battlefield in bloodstained armor than in the sophisticated suit he was wearing. There was an aura of suppressed violence about him that sent my nervous system into disarray. I didn’t know whether to run from the predatory threat he posed or hide behind him.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hugh demanded.
He surveyed Hugh with disdain. “None of your business. I believe your girlfriend asked you to leave.”
“I’m not his girlfriend.” I immediately corrected him. The idea that someone might think that was intolerable.
