Break

I put my hands in my pockets and lean back on my heels. “Growing pains is a nice way of putting it. Katerina would run her flesh and blood into the ground if meant an ounce of benefit for herself.”

Mr. Koslova looks at me pointedly before being approached by the lead server, who asks for a word with him. I step away politely, but Koslova holds up a finger, indicating I wait. He speaks to the man in hushed tones and then waves me back.

“They’re serving dinner tonight, and it appears Katerina has left you off the list. I’ve instructed them to add a place setting. I hope you’ll be joining us.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Hope you sat me right next to Lance,” I say, taking a gulp of Champagne.

Taye looks at me from across the room and smiles with a little wave. She’s glowing tonight, and I mentally check myself, promising only good behavior for her sake.

We sit down to eat in the formal dining room, our seats assigned with place cards. My name is missing from the tablescape, but there’s an odd chair shoved in next to Tayla’s, meant for me. As Katerina tells everyone to sit, I watch her face drop and then become scornful when she realizes her husband has worked to accommodate me.

“Hey, there, superstar,” I say to Taye as we sit.

“I’m starving!” Natayla immediately reaches for the bread once everyone’s seated.

Bread is on her nutritional plan. The woman burns easily nine hundred calories a class, so as far as I’m concerned, she can eat whatever the hell she wants as long as it’s not self-destructive behavior.

I watch Katerina’s brow shoot up to her hairline as she watches her only child like a hawk. The horror gives way to outrage and disgust as Tayla takes the butter and spreads it on thick.

“Darling, we don’t eat bread, remember?” Her desperate statement comes right as the food hits Taye’s tongue, and her expression drops from excitement to shame as the room quiets, taking in the embarrassing exchange.

“That no longer concerns you, Madam Koslova,” I tell her, helping myself to the breadbasket. “We’re working with a nutrition specialist, and besides,” I direct the next part at the rest of the group, “everyone needs a day off now and again, right?”

The guests murmur in agreement, and Katerina bites her thin lips, her grimace painting a clear picture of her disapproval for everyone to see.

“Wow, Mother. Thanks for the extreme interest in what I put in my mouth,” Natayla says bitterly to Katerina. “I wouldn’t talk, though, since you don’t seem to be all that discerning yourself,” Taye finishes.

This is a direct dig at Katerina sucking face, and probably dick, with the douchebot. Katerina gets the innuendo and has the decency to change the subject, which goes over as well as a crew tossing a flotation ring to the guy who’s already been consumed by sharks.

“The caviar is amazing!” Lance gushes. The caviar in front of him is ostensibly untouched.

I down another flute of Champagne to bolster me through the night and make it through this godawful dinner. “Remind me why we came again?” I whisper to Sam as the waiter refills my drink.

“I don’t remember myself. I think I was so impressed with how she handled the living room that this seemed like an atonement. But sitting here next to you, eating bread, and drinking Champagne, I’m suddenly reminded of how free I am. I can turn these parties down now, can’t I?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure your mother would have any reason to host them.”

“She’s going to take this all personally, act like I intend to ruin her rather than live my own life.”

“You’ve given her twenty-one years, Sam. That’s a long time.”

She looks at me thoughtfully and nods before her eyes scan to her mother, father, and finally, Lance. They narrow in anger or perhaps in conviction. “I’m going to chew and screw, as they say.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Natayla eats every single thing on her plate, including dessert. When she licks the final bit of whipped from the tines of her fork, she pushes back her chair, drops her napkin on her plate, and takes my hand so that we can screw this joint.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Natayla

My favorite coffee joint is walking distance from the Crestview. I dream of a world where I can sit in one of their cozy booths reading all day, but that’s not the life of a dancer. Instead, I hit the line but preorder on my phone anyway.

Two girls up ahead grab my attention. They’re Crestview Academy students, but I don’t know them. They look like first-year students, giggling and looking at their phones and then sneaking peeks at me. I guess in the dance world, I’m marginally famous. Not anywhere near as famous as Dash, but it’s not unheard of for people to recognize me when I’m out. It makes me feel self-conscious and I run my fingers through my French twist to make sure it’s not falling out. I think the attention has increased since I started working with Dash. Unsurprising, given his instant fame and notoriety thanks to Dance Props being streamed into every living room in the country. His social media following is insane, and he’s looking for someone else to manage it.