Irritation flashes across her face for a moment before she turns and walks to the corner. She takes fifth position and begins again.
This time, her turns are close to perfect, she nails the leaps, and she manages a particularly grand jeté. She kicks her leg back behind her, balancing en pointe and raising her arms above her head.
“Hold it!” I cry. “Hold it… hold it…”
She breaks, her leg coming down. She glares at me, shaking her arms and legs out.
“Come here,” I beckon. “Let’s practice that arabesque.”
Her gaze slides between me and Bas, who seems to be preoccupied with texting. She hurries over to stand before me, taking fifth position. Then she sweeps her leg back and up and lifts her arms.
I move closer, adjusting her posture ever so slightly with a hand on her waist. My other hand comes up to touch her inner thigh, lifting her leg ever so slightly higher.
Her eyes widen as I touch her. Her breath falters, only noticeable to me because I’m standing so close.
It is very tempting to slide my hand down to tease her pussy and up to nudge her breast. But I don’t.
Even if I were to give in, Bas is standing right behind us. He’s waiting for just that kind of move from me.
So I stay put. I can feel Kaia’s muscles start to tremble under my fingers.
In this moment, she is graceful and beautiful.
“One more…” I whisper.
She holds it for another half breath before slowly releasing. I step back, putting my hands behind my back.
“That was good,” I say.
Kaia looks at me, her wide hazel eyes taking me in. Her cheeks turn pink and she tucks a stray lock of her hair that has escaped her ribbon back behind her ear.
“Don’t think so much,” I murmur. “The pose is not easy, but it should be calming for you. After so much motion it is your reward. Just being still for a few moments.”
Bas smiles lightly, looking at his phone. “I should go. Good work today though, Kaia.”
Kaia blushes and ducks her head. “Have a good night.”
Bas purses his lips and arches a brow at me while he walks out of the studio. I’m not sure what that was exactly, but I’m sure that he wouldn’t leave me here with Kaia if he knew what kind of thoughts I’ve had about her in the last twenty four hours.
As he leaves, I heave a sigh. “Do you want to run it again? Repetition builds muscle memory.”
She puffs out her cheeks and puts her hands on her hips, nodding as she walks across the room. “Yeah.”
We drill the same combination about ten more times. “Good. Again.”
As I walk over and check my phone, I see twenty missed calls, from Lucas and from another number that I don’t recognize. As I’m scrolling through my texts from Lucas, I see this.
Anita had a bad fall. They are taking her to Memorial Hospital with a suspected fractured hip and a possible concussion. Call me.
And then, where the fuck are you, Calum?
“Fuck,” I say, glowering at my phone.
“What?” Kaia calls.
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. I have to go,” I say, not even looking at her.
I have to take control of this situation or Anita is going to have Lucas eating out of the palm of her hand soon enough. Not even glancing back, I grab my water bottle and start calling my limousine driver.
16
Calum
I ride the elevator upstairs to the twelfth floor of Memorial Hospital, brooding as the floors tick by. The doors open to reveal a white block that serves as a desk and runs to my right and to my left.
I step out and stalk to the desk, looking over the nurses who are doing paperwork. “1217?”
One of the nurses looks at me, her eyes narrowing. “Are you family?”
My lips curl up in a sneer. I’m certainly not a blood relative, but Lucas and I are all that Anita has. She’s driven away everyone else.
“She wants to see me,” I say. I can see the door on the right side of the hall, labeled 1201. Starting toward it, I flap a hand at the nurse. “I got it.”
“Sir?” Another nurse calls after me. “Sir, you need to check in—“
Picking up the pace, I turn the corner and walk down the eerily quiet hall. Everything but the doors is white; the doors are antiseptic seafood green, most closed for privacy. Here and there, placed at staggered intervals, are odd numbered doors.
1213… 1215… 1217.
I find the door, turning and facing it. The same nurse has followed me down the hall, her expression uncertain.
I realize my heart is thumping in my chest as I suck in a deep breath. Before I can make a move to open the door, it swings open wide. I see my brother’s dark hair first as he turns from saying something to the room’s occupant.
“I’ll get—“ Lucas sees me and his eyebrows rise. “You’re here.”
I squint at him. “I am,” I agree. “You said it was an emergency.”
He moves forward, closing the door behind himself and puffing out his cheeks. “Yeah.” He checks the hallway, waving to the nurse. “Hey, can you call Dr. Stein? She is complaining that the pain medication is making her nauseated. We need to try another one.”
The nurse slows, looking between us. It takes too long for Lucas, who pulls out his phone. “I’m going to call the head of medicine. What’s your name again? I want to make sure I get it right.”
She swallows. “Sandra! I’m Sandra. And… no need to call Dr. Baker again. I’ll call Dr. Stein right now.”
She hurries away, her thick soled shoes squeaking on the floor. I arch a brow.
“How many times have you called Dr. Baker already?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “For what we pay in charitable donations, I’ll call Dr. Baker every ten minutes until Anita is out of the hospital.”
I take a deep breath. “What happened?”
“She said she fell getting out of the shower.” He screws up his face. “She hit her head pretty hard and bruised her left hip.”
I narrow my eyes at him, calculating. “Are you saying that you brought me all the way across Manhattan in rush hour traffic because Anita has a bruise?”
He rolls his eyes dismissively. “She asked for you.”
“Uh huh.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Where is Manuelo?”
Lucas heaves a sigh and sticks his hands in the pockets of his dark slacks. “She wouldn’t say. It seems like they had a spat, I guess. She kept saying that he’s been gone for a while.”
My upper lip curls. “Manuelo works for us, Lucas. Why didn’t you just call him?”
He pushes his cheek out with his tongue. “Don’t take your distemper out on me, Calum. I tried his number; it has been disconnected. So Anita was my only source and she was less than forthcoming…”
“Lucas?”
Her voice comes faintly through the door. The sound of her nasal tone sends a wave of nausea through my whole system. It also causes me to break into a cold sweat.
Lucas turns around and pushes the door open. “Look who is here, Anita.”
He grabs me by the forearm and tows me into the room. Anita is sitting on the hospital bed, her tiny body surrounded by pillows and smothered in blankets. She sits up a little and pats the back of her dyed black hair, her mouth pursing. Whether she is displeased or not is impossible to say.