Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
He won’t be winning “father of the year” anytime soon. Alonzo is a lethally effective underboss, but he isn’t what I’d call a good man. He keeps his daughter on a short leash. His mafia status grants Sera the privileges of wealth and access, but it limits her freedom. Much like I’ve limited Isla.
“Fine,” Isla responds curtly. It’s clear that she recognizes Sera and doesn’t think much of her. I’m betting on there being a dance rivalry buried beneath their posturing. Like her father, Serena’s ambition may exceed her best interests, coupled with insecurity. She eyes the place where Isla holds onto my arm, and a look of bitter envy sweeps across her face.
“Hello Vincent,” Sera smiles as she turns her attention toward me. “Thank you so much for inviting me here tonight. I always look forward to a chance to see you.”
She reaches out her hand for me to take, wanting me to plant a small, customary kiss on the top of her knuckles. When I do, she leans in closer to showcase the cleavage of her dress.
“Alright, Sera,” Alonzo says as he pulls his daughter back alongside him. “Mr. Moretti has more important guests to attend to.”
He glances between his daughter and Isla on my arm. They’re clearly young, and roughly the same age. If I’m not mistaken, Alonzo isn’t entirely approving of how I look at Isla. I couldn’t care less.
“Madame Durant is waiting to speak to you at the roulette table,” Alonzo says, glancing across the room at her. “She’s been waiting there since the start of the gala.”
With Isla still on my arm, we walk toward the ballet mistress. I can practically feel Isla’s heartbeat quicken and her step lighten as we get closer to her instructor. When we get to the game table, she abruptly lets go of my arm and flings herself into Celeste’s arms. The old woman wraps her in a hug and strokes the back of her hair. I briefly considered recalling Isla, then changed my mind. I let them have this moment before interrupting.
“Good to see you, Celeste,” I say as I hold out my hand toward her.
She lets go of Isla and gives me her hand, even as she grimaces doing it. When I extend the same courteous kiss atop her fingers that I did with Sera, Celeste Durant gives me an entirely different reaction of disgust.
“How long are you going to keep my dancer?” she says in a low voice. “She’s missing rehearsals, you know.”
Her voice is unwavering, but her eyes tell an entirely different story. Madame Durant isn’t concerned with missed rehearsals; she’s concerned with Isla’s safety. She wants her out of my clutches and back where she can safely watch over her.
For a moment, she hesitates. Both women are aware they don’t hold any power here, and neither desires the other to suffer because of me.
“Actually, Madame,” Isla says. “If it’s okay, I think I’d like to stay here for a while longer. Vincent has allowed me to keep up with my training during my absence from the studio.”
Celeste gives me a soft glare as the tension between the three of us builds. I remind her of her role. “The Madame and I also have a few arrangements,” I say. “I’m sure she wouldn’t take issue with you extending your time here with me. Would you, Celeste?”
She clears her throat before answering and turning back toward her dancer. “Of course not. We will all be awaiting your return to the troupe, Isla, and I look forward to having you back as soon as you are ready.”
I pull away after watching the women’s sad smiles. I don’t want either of them getting any ideas.
“I can’t believe she fell for that,” Isla says with a delicate frown as we walk back through the crowd. “I can’t believe that she thought I would actually want to stay here instead of returning to the studio.”
“She didn’t. She knows you were lying.”
“But then why—”
“Madame Durant has a complicated past,” I say ambiguously. “An acquaintance from my past. I guess you could loosely call us old friends.”
Isla wrinkles her nose at me. “I doubt that.”
“After she lost her daughter, she—“
“Wait, what? I didn’t even know that Madame Durant had a daughter,” she interrupts.
I instantly regret having said anything. It’s not a topic that I want to think about or discuss, especially not here and not tonight. But before I can shut it down, we’re interrupted by a man who will soon come to regret having accepted my invitation to this event.
“Isla Hart, the prima ballerina, isn’t it?” a man in the crowd asks as he steps toward her. “I have to say, you’re even more attractive in street clothes than you are up on stage.”
Instantly, my protective nature kicks into overdrive, and I step in to shut this guy down.