Dirty Obsessions - The Lion and The Mouse

Almost time.

I went to the center of the room, lowered to the ground, and balanced on my knees. There, I bent over and sank even further, pressing my forehead to the ground and not caring if some of my makeup was ruined.

Thank you, God. Thank you for keeping all of us safe—Misha, Grandma, and me. Thank you for my ability to dance. Thank you for this new love blooming with Misha. Thank you for your continued protection. Your continued blessings. Your continued love.

Out loud, I ended the prayer. “In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.”

Usually, my hands shook when I rose. This time, no tension came. After all that had happened—my grandmother’s surprise appearance, Misha killing and revealing his true criminal self, and the theater’s attempt at auctioning my body—I’d grown up a lot in the last few days.

This Ava going on stage is not one that they have ever seen before.

I left the quiet of my dressing room and entered the mayhem backstage. My guards followed.

Yefim walked on my side as we moved through the small city of organized chaos. Hundreds of dancers rushed into position. Costumes, wigs, and props lined the walls. Stagehands ran back and forth. Ballet masters jogged behind them, checking off stuff in their notepads.

We passed a small room, where several dancers warmed up together. Some stretched. Others twirled. The rest practiced their routines in the small space.

I leaned Yefim’s way. “Thanks.”

He drank the excitement in and looked at me. “What did I do?”

“You kept Misha calm.”

He smirked, raising one of his scarred cheeks. “I didn’t calm him. You did.”

Two ballerinas raced by. “Where’s the seamstress?!”

I stopped us in front of the entrance to the stage and turned to him. “The guards and you usually don’t come this far.”

“From now on we will. That also keeps Misha calm.”

“Where will you be while I dance?”

“Here. We’ll do our best to stay out of everyone’s way.”

“Okay.” I noticed Akiva enter the stage from the other side. He held a microphone in his hand.

Around the front of the stage, the musicians paused from their warmups.

Everyone quieted.

Akiva raised the microphone to his lips. “Hello, and thank you for attending tonight’s performance of La Bayadere.”

I pulled the thick curtain back and peeked in Misha’s direction. There he sat in his VIP box. Grandma was on his right. A large older man was on his left.

Who is the older man?

I spotted Maxwell in the seat behind him.

Akiva spoke, “The theater has suffered another tragic loss in the passing of our most dedicated patrons—Mr. Kuznetsov, Mr. Oblonskey, and Mr. Turgenev.”

All went somber.

“We mourn these three great men who have financially backed many of our performances and maintained the continued art of ballet in not just St Petersburg, but all of Russia.”

A few ballerinas came near me. My guards moved back and gave them space.

On my left, Alyssa whispered to me, “I’m glad they’re dead.”

I kept my thoughts to myself.

“They were disgusting men.” Alyssa glanced back at the stage and kept her voice down. “Tell your boyfriend that we say thank you.”

I gritted my teeth.

Oh shit. They know.

On the stage, Akiva continued, “These honorable men were so dedicated, they’d been at the theater to donate more money when the rip in the gas line happened, igniting a fire and taking these men away.”

Behind me, a ballerina giggled.

Akiva dabbed at his eyes as if he needed to wipe a tear. “I know that those men are in heaven, flying around and looking down at us tonight.”

A few ballerinas snickered.

Akiva placed his free hand on his heart. “Therefore, this performance is dedicated to them. Tonight, our company will dance for these honorable men and their families.”

“No.” Alyssa rolled her eyes and turned to everyone behind us. “Tonight, we dance for Ava. She stopped the hell.”

Several muttered, “Yes.”

My eyes watered, realizing that they’d clearly been victims of these men and others. No words left my lips. Many emotions hit me—sadness that these men had raped some, guilt that I had no idea, hope that all of this would finally be over, and anxiety that with so many people knowing, Misha could be in trouble.

I glanced over my shoulder at Yefim as if needing him to anchor me. Surely, he had been close enough to hear it all.

When our gazes caught, he winked.

Okay. I guess I shouldn’t worry.

“May they rest in peace.” Akiva gave a half bow and walked off stage.

The audience clapped.

Someone patted my back. I turned. It was Ivory. This ballerina barely talked to me but had never been mean. She had pale white skin and black hair like a china doll with the bluest eyes. Anger blazed on her face. “May they rest in hell.”Chapter 3

Misha

Captivating.

Gripping the edge, I leaned forward in my balcony seat. As always, I craved to be closer to the stage.

One day, we’ll move into a house. There, I’ll have a stage for Ava to only dance for me. And when she turns like that, I will come on that stage and take her right there. Make her orgasm and shake in those ballet shoes.