I yank his head back using his hair, forcing him to look at me. “When I first came here, I wanted to talk to you about how the patrons were treating the dancers. Then I saw firsthand how you treat them. I saw firsthand your fixation on Arabelle. Now, my decision has changed.”
“Please. I can just quit and leave. You’ll never see me again.”
I force him to his knees, never releasing my grip on his hair.
“Please, I’ll do anything you want me to,” he begs. “Just don’t hurt me.”
I stand behind him and remove my knife from its holster with my other hand. I lean over near his ear. “No amount of begging will save you,” I whisper. “She’s mine. No one else can have her.”
As the sharp blade glides across his neck, a metallic smell fills the air. It’s a familiar smell, one that I’ve come to love, but I don’t have time to relish it. The theater will be open in a few hours.
Pushing his body to the floor, I watch as he desperately clutches at the wound to no avail. It will only take a few seconds for him to bleed out. With a deep sigh, I watch as his body goes limp, and then I reach for my phone to dial Alrick.
“It’s done,” I say as soon as he answers the phone. “I need the body removed and this place cleaned up.”
His deep sigh reverberates through the phone line. “On the way.”
I ignore Alrick’s aggravated sigh, end the call, and stuff my phone in my pocket. I will never regret what I have to do to keep her safe. If it comes down to it, I will not hesitate to kill anyone who’s a threat to her.
4
Arabelle
Chicago
After ordering room service, I fall backward onto the bed of the master bedroom of the hotel suite I’ve been staying in for the past week. I’ve been doing promotional photoshoots and interviews for the dance company, which the new company director scheduled for me to get my name and face out there. It’s almost set in stone that I’ll be named principal dancer. Hopefully, this will be the final push I need.
I had been discussing it with Samuel before he suddenly left everything behind to take on a new position in a European theater company, as confirmed by the theater company. No one, including the dancers or even the new director, knew anything about this new position or which company. I arrived one morning at the theater, was informed about his departure before meeting with the new director and was then thrust into rehearsals. Although I find it strange when he had so many new ideas for the upcoming season, I can’t say that I will miss him. He was creepy as hell. Hopefully, the new director isn’t the same kind of man.
This is my last day in Chicago. Tomorrow, I’ll be flying back to New York, and I can’t say I’m looking forward to it because my phone has been ringing nonstop for the past few days. When he calls, he wants something, and I don’t have the time or the patience to deal with my father.
I jump at the sound of a knock at the door. Since I’ve been here, the attendant has been flirting with me when he brings my food. I don’t believe he knows who I am, and I’m glad because I don’t want to scare him away. I’m not that comfortable around guys, but he makes it easy, and I like it.
I fluff my curls, straighten my oversized shirt to make sure I’m presentable, and then walk to the door. I’m not one for wearing makeup unless I’m performing, so if he’s the type that likes glitz and glam, I’m not that girl.
I check the peephole, but I don’t see anyone there or the room service cart.
“Hello,” I call out instead of opening the door. However, I’m met with silence. “Hello,” I call out again.
After a few moments with no response, I unlock the door, pull back the security latch, slowly open the door, then peek out. When I don’t see anyone, I open the door wider and look back and forth down the hallway, but it’s empty. However, when I close the door, I notice the red rose and black envelope on the floor.
I look down the hallway again before I pick up the rose and envelope. Just one day, I would like to see who’s leaving these for me. I’ve been getting a lot of roses lately, ever since my dressing room was decorated with them in the most beautiful crystal vases.
Excitement races through me as I close the door when I should be freaked out. The only people who know I’m here work for the theater. But I’m not freaked out. I love all the roses, and the notes are always so nice and eloquent.
I sit on the couch and smell the flower, then smile. I can’t pinpoint the fragrance, but they always smell so good, nothing like any flower I’ve smelled before. I’ve tried to track down the person who’s been sending them to thank them because they always bring me joy, but I’ve come up empty so far.
I place the rose on the couch beside me, then pick up the envelope and pull out the black card with lovely gold writing.
This rose, although beautiful, will never compare to the light of your soul that battles the darkness of my heart. You will always be my unattainable beauty.
I sigh. “I wish whoever this is would make themselves known.”
I’m not scared, though I can admit it’s a little creepy. They always know where I am. I should be scared, but I’ve received so many flowers and notes now that I actually look forward to getting them. Dale says I’ve got to be experiencing some type of Stockholm syndrome. Maybe he’s right.
Despite my petite frame, men are intimidated by me once they find out I have a career and can support myself. Also, being recognizable to people, especially in the media, has made men shy away from trying to date me. I understand because who wants to be on the cover of tabloids if you didn’t sign up for it? The few who’ve tried didn’t stay around too long, and I never heard from them again.
Another knock sounds at the door.
