Scarlett stared in my direction for a moment before she rushed inside, into the warmth of the studio and the comfort of familiar people. Those weren’t her people though.
She’s mine.
The thought came unbidden, almost ferocious, from the beast that had reared its head out of the depths of inner darkness. In response, a low growl emanated from my throat, aimed at myself.
Still, I had lost the war. I couldn’t move or tear my eyes from where she was supposed to be. She might have been the most perfect ballerina, but there was something else about her that called to me, something that went even deeper. Something that might get me killed one day, but in her honor, I’d give up my life without a second’s hesitation.
She’s mine, the voice came again, and this time I accepted it without issue.
Yeah, she is.
Elliott had been insane to ever leave her, to leave this—light.
Once she was safely inside, I stood outside watching from the shadows. She stood in the center of the window again, leather jacket still on, looking out into the depths of the night. She felt me, judging by the grin on her face.
Her dance picked up where it had left off.
This time, my ballerina girl danced just for me.
Chapter Two
1996 ~ Brando, The arrangement
I dressed in honor of the occasion. White button-down shirt rolled to the elbows, black slacks, and boots. I slicked my hair back and used pomade to keep it in place.
I slipped on a thick watch and checked the time.Enough.The tattoo on my lower left arm snaked from wrist to elbow, a reminder of that night out in the snow, a piece of her to carry with me until there wasn’t a breath left in me. December was bitter with cold, so I added a thick jacket. It completed the look more than it was necessary to keep me comfortable.
My cologne hung in the air when I stepped outside. The breath from my mouth came out in a frosted white cloud. The leather seats of the Chevy held the cold, but the heater evened out the temperature. Not that it mattered. My body ran hot. The cold rarely touched me.
The drive only took a short time. Small town.
The southern plantation loomed in the distance. If a house could be considered a Civil War relic, this one took the title. White columns stretched the height of the structure and balconies stretched the width, standing out against the brick.
It had a long driveway that seemed to meander, surrounded by ancient live oaks, their leaves intertwined with fluttering moss. Not far behind, the Cane River carved out a path.
The closer the car moved toward the structure, the bigger and richer it became.
“This place is straight out ofGone with the Wind,” Maggie Beautiful had once remarked when we had come for a party.
“Yeah,” I said to myself over the humming of the motor. “Can’t argue with that.”
The entire place, even the trees that lined the driveway, had been covered in twinkling lights and decorations that signified Christmas was close. It made the house seem even more lavish. Though it would be some time before night fell, the lights were on, haloed in the haze.
Parking in front of the house, I turned the car off, breathing in a lung full of fresh air not polluted by fumes from the exhaust pipe. The scents of burning wood, cold water, and fresh pine lingered; an undercurrent of leather from the seats and my cologne drifted below them.
The smells lingered but I didn’t. Lifting my arm, I checked the time.
Right on schedule.
Before I could knock, Eunice, the woman who had worked for the Poésy family for as far back as I could remember, stood there, a cheery apron covering her dress. She smelled of fresh baked goods and the spice of firewood.
“Brando!” She embraced me, holding me tight. “It’s been too long! Too long!” She stood back but kept her hands on my arms. “You’re too thin!” She slapped at one cheek.
I smiled at her, despite the feeling of unease that rushed over me when I came here now. It wasn’t the same as it used to be.
“Oh,” she breathed out. “But you’re still as charming as ever! Too beautiful for your own good. Come in.” She stepped aside and shut the door behind me. “Let me take your coat.”
I slipped out of it and she hung it in the closet, turning to face me once more. Her eyes roved over me for a long minute, before stopping on the tattoo on my arm.
