I hug him. “I know, Nadia told me. Thank you. Who are you meeting for lunch?”
“Hmm? Oh, lunch. Vladimir Zoloth. He’s Maxim Zoloth’s son. He just arrived from New Orleans. I was expecting Maxim, but I’m glad Vladimir has come instead. Vladimir is one of the men I’m considering to take over the business. He’s brilliant.”
His words dampen some of my joy, but I shake it off. I’m not going to let anything spoil this day for me. Vladimir is a worry for my future, not my present.
“I’m leaving for my dress rehearsal now. I’ll be home for dinner,” I remind him.
“I’ll be here. Good luck today.” I lean over to accept his hug before kissing his cheek again. I pick up my bag near the door where Nadia left it. Outside, I find our car and driver waiting for me. He pulls over behind the theater entrance and wishes me luck as I exit. I thank him, but I’m distracted by the person waiting for me outside the stage door.
“Skylar! What are you doing here?” I ask, rushing forward to hug her.
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I talked to the Artistic Director about filming segments of the dress rehearsal for my program. As long as I stay out of the way and don’t distract any of the performers.”
“Oh, that was nice of her,” I say, somewhat surprised that Madam Volkov agreed to Skylar’s request. She’s known to be militaristic in her protection of the performers, especially during the dress rehearsal.
“I can be very persuasive when I want something,” Skylar grins.
Inside the theater, I leave Skylar to her work while I make my way to my dressing room. Before opening the door, I suck in a breath as I relish the feeling of my achievements. This is the first time I’ve had a dressing room to myself. I’m only a few steps away from the stage. Elena, who is playing Aurora, is closer as is her right, but I’m as close to the pinnacle. Breathing out the breath I’d been holding, I open the door and see it. Hanging from the changing partition is the lovely costume that I’ll be wearing for the next two weeks.
The pancake tutu contains layers of lilac, soft pink, and icy blue. Leaf-shaped appliqués rise to cover the bodice. Rhinestones and silver filigree make the costume sparkle. I let myself stare at it for a few moments longer as I imagine how I’ll appear onstage wearing it. Finally, I shake myself from my daydream, close the door, and begin stripping. Why should I just imagine how I’ll look when I can put it on and see for myself?
My fingers itch to put it on, but I remember that I need to apply my makeup first. After putting on a robe, I sit at the vanity. I pull my hair into a basic bun, knowing others will add the finishing touches, including the tiara. I have just finished putting on my makeup when there is a knock on the door. I call out for them to enter. The wardrobe assistant enters to help me into my costume. This is one of the moments that I’ve been dreaming of since learning I earned the part. I remove my robe and toss it on the chair. With great care, the assistant helps me step into the costume and then raises it. In the full-lengthmirror, I watch myself transform from Anya Stepanov into The Lilac Fairy.
As I admire my reflection, the wardrobe assistant leaves to let the hairdresser in and add the finishing touches to my hair. With the tiara in place, the transformation is complete. I’m breathless as I stare at my reflection. Movement at the door draws my attention. I turn to see Skylar standing in the hall. She’s holding her phone and recording me. Tears fill her eyes as her voice cracks with emotion as she describes my costume and the role I’ll be playing.
I wave my hands in front of my face to keep from crying. I’ve never been this emotional before. Madame Volkov’s voice calls out for us to take our places. Dress rehearsal has begun.
From my place at the edge of the stage, I feel the warmth of the footlights bloom against my skin as the court gathered in a swirl of gold brocade and fluttering ribbons. The music lifted—light, ceremonial—as I moved forward with the serene grace the role demanded, offering my blessing to the infant princess cradled at center stage. Around me, the other fairies sparkle through their variations, each blessing unfolding like a jeweled petal, but I keep my focus steady, my breath timed to the orchestra’s rise. Beneath my calm smile, I register every detail: the precise spacing of the courtiers, the faint rustle of tutus brushing the floor, the anticipation humming through the wings. I know what is coming—the sudden darkening, the jolt of Carabosse’s entrance—and I hold my wand lightly, ready to answer chaos with measured, commanding light.
As the music unfurled its gentle waltz, I let my breath settle into the rhythm, my arms sweeping through soft port de bras that feels like warm light spilling from my fingertips. I float forward in an arabesque voyage, wand extended, the tutu whispering around my hips as my pas de bourrée couru carries me across the stage. A controlled développé blossomed at myside, steady despite the heat of the lights, then a chassé lifts me into a grand jeté that lands like a sigh. I turn inward—one slow pirouette en dedans—and pose, serene, before gliding through a balancé that lets my body sway with the music’s pulse. My final promenade in attitude feels weightless, as if the blessing I offer truly softens the air, and then I ride a sweep of waltz turns down the diagonal, every movement a promise of protection.
Madame Volkov claps to gain everyone’s attention. Those not in the final scene join us on stage. “Not bad, not bad,” Madame Volkov says. “However…” she proceeds to critique the performers, including Elena and me. However, even her comments, delivered in her usual clinical, cold tone, can’t diminish my confidence. While my performance may not have been perfect, I felt as if it was one of my best. That feeling intensifies when I spot Skylar in the audience; she’s beaming at me. A movement at the lobby doors draws my attention, but when I don’t see anyone enter, I assume it was my imagination.
Reluctantly, I change back into my street clothes while Skylar sits at my vanity chattering. “You were amazing! I’m so proud of you. You looked like you were flying across the stage. Like a real fairy.”
I chuckle at her enthusiasm as I lift my bag and gesture for her to exit my dressing room. “Did you get enough footage for your episode?”
“More than enough. I need to get back to the hotel and edit it, but I have time. I promised your Madame Volkov that I wouldn’t post anything until after Opening Night.”
“I still can’t believe she let you attend the Dress Rehearsal,” I muse. “She’s kind of a stickler for tradition.”
“I told her that I was focused on you,” Skylar says with a shrug. “She likes you. Besides, it turns out that she’s a fan of my show.”
When we exit the theater, I search for my driver instead of paying attention to my surroundings. Skylar screams as rough hands grab me and pull me toward a waiting van.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: VLADIMIR
“You can drop me off here,” Alexi says when we’re a block away from his home. “I remember walking this way that day.”
I signal for the driver to pull over so we can let Alexi out. Behind us, my men pull over, and two hop out to join him.
“They’ll keep their distance, but will be there if you need backup. Let them know when you’re ready to return to the hotel, and they’ll call for a car,” I tell him.
He nods before slamming the door shut. I watch him adjust the collar on his coat and pull the hat lower over his face. He’s unrecognizable with the beard, but he’s not taking any chances. We don’t want anyone to recognize him before he’s ready to reveal himself.
“He can take care of himself,” Dom chides me. I glance at him to find him grinning at me. “You’re like a mother hen.”
“Shut up,” I bark, but there’s no bite to it. “I’ve spent a lot of time and money rescuing him. Maybe I just don’t want my investment to be a waste.”
