Uncle Roman gently lifts my sweater and swears.
“This can never happen again. After tonight, Bohdan, your father won’t be a problem for you. Do you understand what this means?”
I nod.
“Do you want me to take care of it?”
Another nod.
Then my uncle leaves.
I just signed my father’s death warrant, and I don’t regret a thing.
Chapter Ten
Dasha
I am hot and sweaty after practicing so hard, and I take a shower at the theater. It’s strange showering with Bohdan right outside the room.
For years now, I’ve had no sexual desire at all. It’s been dead. Ever since I saw him however, all those weeks ago outside my dressing room in the hallway, my libido has roared to life.
It doesn’t make sense. I hated him for all these years, didn’t I?
He betrayed me with that awful woman, and then I never saw him again. I had loved him, yes, but in some ways, you might say it was an innocent love. We were saving ourselves until I was eighteen, so it’s not as if I have a lot of torrid memories of me and him.
He never saw me fully naked. We did kiss and touch. I had orgasms with him. Some nights when my mother was deep asleep with her ear plugs in, I’d let him into our apartment, and we’d creep into my room. Once there, we’d snuggle under the covers, kissing and touching, sometimes for hours.
On a few of those nights, we’d get carried away and touch one another, rub up against one another, find a release together in the dark. Even those interludes, though, I see as innocent somehow.
I’ve seen him naked, though.
I blink to try to forget the memory as it hurts still, but it pushes its way in.
The image of him sprawled out on a bed as a woman licked and sucked at what I’d not even tasted. His eyes were closed, and I remember that for a moment, before the reality of what was happening hit me, I had thought he was so beautiful. Then I’d zoomed in on her red lips wrapped around his penis, and I’d fled.
The memory brings the usual hurt and feelings of shame at being so naïve as to believe a man his age would and could wait. It also brings something else. A faint frisson of desire. Would he look like that now? I doubt it. He’s piled on weight and all of it muscle. He’s broken his nose, and it means he doesn’t look quite like my angel anymore.
Nor does he look like the god I used to think he was. More like a fallen god, I huff to myself, annoyed I’m giving him so much head space. So much heart space.
As soon as I get out of here, he and I are having a talk, and he’s going to agree to assign someone else to my case at the end of it, so help me.
My phone buzzes and dances on the stool across the room from the shower stall. I sigh, turn off the water, and wrap a towel around myself. I didn’t wash my hair, and it’s covered in a plastic cap with pink flowers all over it. It’s hideous but my mother brought it for me a long time ago so I could shower without always having to wash my long hair, and I cherish it for those reasons. I love my mother. She’s about all I have left in this world that I do love. She can be difficult, and she refuses to see any faults in Jasper, but she cares, and she’s home to me. So I love her despite her faults. That’s what love is, isn’t it?
When I glance at the screen, I frown.
We have a dinner this evening, with a couple who are interested in sponsoring you in your own private show. The highlight of which will be The Dying Swan. Go shopping and buy something incredible. They are arriving at eight pm, and I have the catering sorted with our housekeeper. Go to Galeries Lafayette and buy a new dress and shoes. Please be home in time for your hair appointment at the house at six pm. See you then.
I sigh. Most women would love to get such a text, but not me. It means I am in for an evening of torture. An evening of talking to people I don’t know. I never know what to say. I’m not shy as such, but I do lack social skills. Small talk gives me hives.
What kind of dress? What sort of people are they? Should I buy something conservative, or a bit more daring? I never go for sexy as I don’t have that type of body. It’s all angles, and sinew, and bones. Jasper told me not so long ago that the reason he has to sleep with all the many similar blondes is because I’ve over trained in dancing, and now he finds me repulsive. I wipe the mirror with my hand, letting the steam clear, and stare at my reflection.
Am I repulsive? My face isn’t. I know I’m classically beautiful. I also look younger than my years, by quite a bit. I could pass as twenty-five easily. That’s what you get from a lifetime of very little alcohol, not much sugar, fierce use of sunscreen, and healthy eating.
Although some of it is genetic, I imagine, because my mother doesn’t look her age either.
I dry myself, spray some body oil on, Chanel Gabrielle, and sue me if I don’t want to look and smell good when I have the talk with Bohdan. It will have to wait now until we’ve shopped, however. I head out the door, letting it bang shut, and Bohdan falls into step behind me as I head back to the dressing room. I don’t even glance his way but leave him outside again. I stash my dance bag in the cupboard and grab my usual tote. Then I put some makeup on again. This time I add a swipe of lipstick. I pause at the mirror and let my hair down, running my hands through the knots.
It falls in a heavy red curtain down my back. The color is all natural. The style is simple, no bangs or heavy layers for me as I often have to sweep it up. I do have a special blow dry once every two months, though, where they use this deep conditioner, and then this stuff that allegedly means your hair will dry the same way every time until the next treatment. How true it is, I don’t know, but my hair has looked better to me since I started using it.
When I hit the hallway outside, Bohdan once more falls into step with me as we walk in silence to the garage.
“Where to?” he asks when we hit the road in the car.
I tell him, and he raises one brow but doesn’t say anything.
“I need a dress for this evening,” I tell him, weary and sick of this charade that is my life.
He parks up near to the store and shoots me a glance. “We could have walked, you know?”
“Well, we didn’t.” I get out of the car without looking at him again and slam the door.
When we enter the store, I head to the ladies’ fashion department, Bohdan trailing me.
I expect what I’m about to spend on a dress will seem horribly wasteful to him. I guess he must earn decent money, but he won’t be rich the way Jasper is. The way Jasper is because of me. I must try to find a lawyer, but it all seems beyond me when I’m so exhausted.
I don’t mean the physical exhaustion from practicing, but a bone-deep mental and emotional weariness that stops me from being able to gather the energy to do the things I know I should.
Leaving Jasper would be a start. He swears he’ll find me and make my life hell, and break my feet, but if I’m gone, I’m gone. I’d go into hiding.
A thought hits me. I could pay Bohdan to guard me against Jasper, if only I could find a lawyer in this city who didn’t seem scared of my husband and would be willing to help me.
Bohdan used to be my savior; would he be it again?
A thought enters my head. A bad thought. It’s a terrible seed of an idea, but I let it grow. What if I seduced Bohdan? He can’t be here purely for the reasons he’s stating; I refuse to believe that. There’s a coincidence to him being here. It means he might still have feelings for me. Oh, I’m not stupid enough to believe he loves me, not after what he did. Perhaps, though, he regrets never having had me?