Dance, Sugarplum

24. Lyla

CHAPTER 24

LYLA

FINALE

Rehearsal begins, and I can’t help but notice the watching eyes or the murmur of voices. What bothered me when I first arrived at this theater doesn’t anymore. What they say about me now is true. I am with Mikhail. He drives me and brings me back home. We fuck in his car, bed, and kitchen. My skills aren’t disintegrating under their watchful eyes because what comes out of their mouths is true, and that’s the difference.

Eduard divides the production into sections, each group in different rooms and timetables. In the morning, I still start early and warm up at the barre, making sure to stretch. In the afternoon, I bounce between two groups, and each time, I surprise myself and others with excellence.

Maeve is usually around, the only one who isn’t scared to approach me. We eat together and run routines side by side. She always smiles and thanks me when I point out things she can do to better her craft. It’s a far cry from what it used to be for me.

Eventually, Eduard comes to stand nearby, specifically paying attention to me. He doesn’t tut or click his tongue, and I’m nearly ten feet tall as I land the final move of my routine for the performance later tonight.

“Very good, Lyla. You nailed your performance last night too.” Eduard doesn’t give compliments he doesn’t mean, and no one snickers or otherwise signifies they disagree. I hold my head high, and for once, I am sure I can be proud of myself.

Rehearsal comes to a close, and we have a two-hour break before we have to be back for costumes and makeup. I plan to get something to eat and hopefully track down Mikhail. He’s created this desperation in me I can hardly understand. His attention and his affection—I need them both more than I need air. I hope he’s pleased with me tonight.

“Lyla.” Someone calls my name, and I turn to find the prima ballerina, Judith.

“Hey, Judith,” I say carefully. She’s smiling, but she’s never been anything else other than snickering every time we crossed paths.

“You really are doing amazing.”

My shoulders relax, and I release my anxiety for a minute. Everyone notices how hard I’ve been working. My improvement is the most obvious thing about this production. Sure, we won’t be best friends, but maybe she appreciates my dedication.

“Thanks,” I breathe, still unsure where this is going.

“How did you improve so fast? You were really rough when we started.”

Her eyes flash with a mean glint that takes me back to our first week together. My eyebrows come together as I frown. It’s not exactly something you can explain.

“Just needed to get back to the old me, I guess.”

I step back, desperate to get away from her and end this conversation. “I have to go now. I promised…”

“I’m going this way, too.” She falls into line with my steps, clearly not taking the hint. “You were the best. You know it really gets old hearing your name all the time.”

My heart rate increases. What the hell does she want? She’s the star now. Does she just need to rub it in?

“It has been a couple of hard years.” There’s no use denying it when she and the others saw all my things in my car at the beginning of the month. I don’t care what her problem is. The results are all that matter. Look how I’ve managed to turn things around.

Lies can ruin someone’s career, destroy their mental health, and anyone can be next. It happened to me and could happen to them too—lots of men lie. She’s surprised how good I’ve gotten? Does she think I have a secret recipe to share? I had to crawl my way back from hell. It might look sudden, but it cost a hell of a lot more than she can imagine.

Judith nods, and for a second, I think she understands what I mean.

“It was pretty great to see you humbled.”

My mouth falls open, and I turn to her, stopped in my tracks. Her lips crack a small smile like we’re sharing a joke, but I’m not laughing.

“What the fuck do you want?” I demand, but before she answers, I pick up the pace, ready to leave her behind.

“What I want is for you to go away. I don’t want to have to compete with some slut who would fuck her own stepfather.”

Of course. I turn around, and she’s following me so closely I almost bump into her. “How am I competition to you? You’re the prima ballerina, you lunatic!”

“Isn’t this why you’re fucking Mikhail Ivanov now?” She pushes me. “You are known for fucking your way to the top. I won’t let you ruin this for me.”

“Don’t talk about what you don’t know, Judith.” My voice is low, but I hope she hears the threat behind my words.

I turn around to follow the path to Mikhail’s office, but Judith blocks me. “How is that fair? I worked hard too!”

“You got the lead role. What more do you want?”

“There are more shows, Lyla. The lead is mine.”

“Fine!”

There’s no alternative but to turn and go the other way. At this point, I don’t care if I have to go around the block and call Mikhail from outside. All I want is to avoid her. I wouldn’t dare tell her I was a virgin before him. She can think I’m the whore of Babylon for all I care. She’s not worth my breath. If anything, I learned people can say whatever they want. It only matters if you let it.

And I don’t.

“Fuck you!” I shout at the top of my lungs, ready to sprint away from her if that’s what I have to do.

An alleyway only theater workers use to load and unload materials stands to my right. I slap the door in anger and go outside. Cold air sweeps my hair and stings my cheeks. I’m annoyed I’m out in the cold without a jacket, angry that people like Judith still think they can talk to me however they please.

My head hangs, and I take a breath, deciding whether I call Mikhail from here or go inside and throttle Judith. I reach for the door, but before my hand closes on the knob, someone calls my name.

“Lyla, baby.” His voice chills my blood, and I look up to find Carter watching me with an expression of fake concern. “What are you doing out here? You don’t have a coat.”

I thought his production had ended. All their stuff is gone, so he has no business being here yet again. He comes closer, and I step back, a reaction that doesn’t go unnoticed. His lips close in a flat line, but he shakes it away, schooling his expression.

“This rebellion phase. It’s gone too far now.”

My mouth opens, and I snap it closed. I want to argue and ask what the fuck he’s talking about, but I should know better than to argue with crazy. I go for the door again, but he’s faster. Arms snap around me, holding me much too tight.

“Lyla.” He sighs. “It’s time to come home, baby.”

“Let me go. What’s wrong with you?” I scream.

I struggle against him, but he doesn’t let me go, and my desperation reaches a new high. His arms bring me even closer, and I feel his erection digging into my belly, and bile rises up my throat.

“No, no, Carter, let me go!” I’m begging, desperate, and with the image of my mother in my mind’s eye, I start crying. A car rolls slowly forward, but I only pay the slightest attention to it as I fight to add space between his body and mine.

My struggle increases, but I’m no match for him. He lifts me easily, and even as I scream, I know the sound won’t penetrate the dense walls of the theater. He starts walking toward the car I noticed but hadn’t paid much attention to.

Oh fuck, he’s taking me.

“Mikhail!” I know he can’t hear me, but tell that to my frantic heart.

He opens the door and shoves us both inside while someone else hits the gas. By the time the door shuts, we’re moving much too fast for me to escape. Carter's eyes are wild when our gazes meet.

“Don’t ever say his name again.”

I shake, my heart hammers, and I look around as if I could find a way to escape this moving vehicle. My nails dig into the leather seat when reality hits me.

There’s no escape.

Carter looks at me with brown eyes full of excitement. He doesn’t even try to hide that he’s looking at my body with lust.

“I’ve waited long enough. It’s time I finally get what I want from you, Lyla.”

The car speeds up, and thick dread pools in my stomach.