Florian steps closer to me, invading my space, and just like the first time we met, I’m trapped in his steely gaze. He pulls me as close as he can with my pregnant stomach and gazes down into my eyes with so much love, it almost knocks me off my feet.
“I love you, Mr. Larsson,” I say with a smile on my face, giddiness moving through my body. “I guess since we did this the right way this time, now you’re stuck with me.”
He lets out one of his rare deep laughs that makes my knees tremble. “I love you too, Mrs. Larsson. And there’s no other person I’d rather be stuck with.”
When our lips meet, it’s like an explosion, a kaleidoscope of feelings all at once. Happiness. Joy. Desire. Love. It engulfs me, consuming every thought and feeling, leaving no room for anything else. With this kiss, a torrent of love, hope, and dreams surge between us, flowing through our lips and into the very depths of our souls.
For as long as I can remember, dance has been my entire life—my one true love for so long. A lot of long days and lonely nights were spent perfecting my art. Perfecting the one thing that I loved and what I truly believed loved me in return. However, I would give up all the fame and all the fortune, just to have my happily ever after with my Beast. My true love.
Epilogue
FLORIAN
Fifteen Years Later…
As tears fill her eyes, her grip on my hand tightens. From the private balcony of the theater that’s reserved for us, we have a bird’s-eye view of the bustling crowd below in the theater where she achieved the prestigious title of principal dancer almost seventeen years ago.
I can’t help but smile when I see the look of wonderment and amazement on her face. She’s even more beautiful than she was when I first met her in the dressing room of this very theater.
My eyes are drawn back to the stage, where our daughter gracefully moves across it, her first performance as a professional ballet dancer.
“She’s beautiful,” my wife whispers, and I couldn’t agree more.
Carina’s graceful movements on the dance floor evoke the same sense of awe that I felt when watching her mother dance on that very stage. It’s like she’s whispering words directly into your ear as she interprets the music she is dancing to.
“She looks just like you. The embodiment of grace, poise, and beauty.”
My wife’s smile has a radiant quality that can chase away any darkness, especially when she’s proud of our daughter’s accomplishments.
“She’s so much better than me, Florian. Just look at how elegantly she moves across the stage. It’s almost like she’s floating,” Arabelle says with awe in her voice.
It always amazes me when Arabelle talks about dancing because, after all this time, she still does not realize how good she actually is even as she’s aged.
When Carina, our oldest child, decided to follow in her mother’s footsteps, I supported her despite Arabelle’s initial objections. Arabelle didn’t want her to experience the same challenges she faced during her early years of dancing. The isolation. The mean girls of the dance world, which I was clueless about until I witnessed Arabelle having a run-in with someone after a performance. No, I didn’t want my daughter to experience any of that part of dance, but Carina’s natural talent can’t be denied. Just like they did with Arabelle, the papers are labeling her as a prodigy. And she is. As soon as she saw her mother dance, her eyes lit up with excitement, and there was no stopping her. It’s a talent that has to be fostered because it’s too amazing to let the world not see how great she is.
When the final note sounds, the crowd erupts, and we join in, jumping to our feet and clapping along with them.
“Bravo! Bravo!” We all shout and cheer as the dancers, including Carina, take their well-deserved bows.
As we hold each other, tears of joy and relief fill our eyes. Hugo’s hand lands on my shoulder. Glancing back, I’m met with the sight of prideful expressions etched on everyone’s faces.
Not only is Hugo here, but Asva, Alrick, Nero, and Didrick have joined us as well. Carina thinks of them as her uncles, andthere’s no way they would miss her first performance. They all bitched about having to wear tuxedos but did it for her.
“She was amazing,” I say as the dancers leave the stage.
“She was,” Arabelle agrees. “I can’t believe the performance she just had, Florian. This is going to open so many doors for her. It was absolutely perfect. She hit every mark she was supposed to. Do you realize how hard that is for someone her age?”
The sound of panic mixed with admiration is clear in my wife’s voice. Having been here before, she’s familiar with what lies ahead for Carina. I’ve only experienced this life through her and for only as long as she’s been in mine. I have no idea what dancers face other than what Arabelle has experienced, but I trust my wife.
“She’s going to be fine, Beauty.” I try to give her some type of comfort. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”
“You’ll have to increase her security.”
“It’s done.”
“The paparazzi are probably going to be camped out at the house and her school now.”
Since Arabelle’s retirement, we haven’t been bothered by the paps as much as when we first got married, but I have no problem doing whatever I need to do to keep Carina safe. She nods, relief on her face.
