She chatted on for a few minutes, the conversation naturally veering toward Scarlett and Mia.What a pleasure it is to watch your wife dance. What a pleasure it is to watch a new star of the ballet in motion—the next étoile!Until she said something that made me tell her to repeat herself, unsure if I had heard her correctly.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “She did not even call. Some of the girls were worried. From what the others tell me, this is unlike her.”
Cerise hadn’t showed up for her classes. Something she had never done before. Even after all her sorrow, dance had kept her rooted. For her not to call set me on edge too.
Larsen continued, chatting as though I had been present in the conversation. One ear in, one ear out, but the one ear caught what was most important. The hairs on my arms stood erect, and that feeling of someone ready to snap their teeth on my spine made the weather suddenly feel colder.
“Repeat that once more,” I said, rolling my shoulders.
Larsen took a step back, her eyes darting back and forth. “Oh. It’s just that—I knew she looked familiar. Her family, the Nemours, they are well known in France.” She laughed, waving a hand. “They are known for their influence. I often had dinner with—”
“Olivier Nemours,” I repeated the name, taking a step forward, closer to her. “He’s related to Cerise.”
“Of course!” She smiled, attempting to please me with the information. “Olivier is her uncle. Her mother’s brother. But—” she brought her voice down conspiratorially, leaning in closer “—the family does not claim her mother. She had an affair that the family did not approve of. Olivier took interest in the girl, Cerise, despite the scandal. He has a fine eye for talent.”
Then she rightened herself, a true ballerina.
“It has been marvelous to reconnect with her. The last time I saw her she was a small child with a lion’s mane for hair. Oh!” She called after me. “Please tell Scarlett that if Cerise needs to change her schedule, I would be more than pleased to switch. It would be wonderful to dance with Scar—”
The rest of her words were drowned out by the roaring in my ears and the distance between us. I didn’t stay to finish hearing her go on and on about the Nemours, how influential they were, and how she would just love the chance to dance with my wife.
Cerise was related to that bastard, and she had failed to clue us in on this important fact—just as Collette had been doing Nemours’s bidding before she had committed suicide to escape the war between us.
Just like that, the entire forest came into view—all the damn trees leading us to this very moment. Years ago, Cerise had entered Scarlett’s life, a little girl claiming to have issues with her dance. At the time, Scarlett and I were planning on getting married, but I’d done something that came close to a regret in my life.
During the planning stages of our wedding, I had withdrawn, stopped calling and stopped seeing her.
There was no fooling my wife, the heart beating in my chest. She knew I was uncertain. Uncertain of who I was, what I could bring into her life, and how hard she would fall if my intentions ever failed her.
Coming to my senses, though, I’d taken Everett’s private plane to Paris and went to get mine. The sight of her, Nemours, and Cerise walking into some sort of thing for the ballet never left me. I didn’t even need to close my eyes to see it. Jealousy for a man like me is an uncommon emotion, but when it came to her, it burned me deep.
“Pick up the fucking phone, Scarlett,” I growled into the receiver. The phone rang and rang and rang—her voicemail finally picking up. Flinging the phone down on the passenger side seat, I used the console to make the rest of my calls.
It would only take me a few minutes to get to the school, or our house, but those few minutes felt like a lifetime. Even the car felt like it was trying to burn rubber through a bog.
Mia and Matteo both had phones, only used for emergencies. But if they were home, they’d be in their bags, since one of us were usually always with them. Neither of them answered. I tried to call Dimitri, and he didn’t answer either.
Everett called me.
“Brando?”
“Have you talked to Scarlett?”
He made a groaning noise. “No, but Cerise dropped the dogs off at our place, even hers—she seemed to be in a rush. Late for class, she said. You want to pick them up from our place? Or do you want me to bring them with Marciano?”
“The dogs,” I said. “What about them?”
“The traveling groomer. He’s taking care of them.”
We never brought our dogs to the groomer. I took care of them. Everett had tried to get us to send them to his traveling groomer, a man who came by with a camper that was filled with grooming supplies, even a tub, but it was something I took the time to do.
Cerise, who had never touched our dogs before, had taken them to him. Livia had gotten a puppy for Christmas, and she had dropped that one off, too.
That meant less security for my family.
“Pop,” I said, my heart racing, almost in my throat. My hands squeezed the steering wheel so hard that it squeaked. “AskMatiwhen was the last time she talked to Scarlett.”
Marciano laughed in the background, asking if he could have an ice cream after karate. Everett’s voice became muffled as he turned to ask Scarlett’s mother when was the last time she’d spoken to my wife.
