My phone alerts me to motion detected on the cameras I just installed in Savina’s apartment, drawing my attention back to the present. I open the app immediately, silently chastising myself for being so damn eager. I’d promised myself that I would only check in now and then, just to make sure everything is safe and secure. But when I see Savina’s beautiful face on my screen as she walks into the apartment, swinging shopping bags in her hands, smiling and laughing, I know I’m going to be breaking that promise. It’s going to be addicting to know what she’s up to twenty-four-fucking seven, and I don’t see myself breaking that bad habit any time soon.
I force myself to close out of the app, cursing under my breath. Why am I so obsessed with her? Why have I always been that way? Only with her.Only her.All other women keep residence in my head for two-point-five seconds, but not Savina. She has been living in my head rent-free since I first laid eyes on her. Sometimes she’s all I can think about, all I can focus on.
Shaking my head, I look up the number to the superintendent forher building and call him. When he answers, I explain to him what I want done to make their apartment safer. And when he falters, I promise to make it worth his time. Eventually, he concedes after enough coaxing and promises it will be done within the next day with the bribe I’m willing to give him.
Satisfied with that, I hang up and check the cameras on my phone again. Savina is chilling on the couch with Darby, and they’re looking through their shopping bags, holding up various articles of clothing and talking about only god knows what since I don’t have the volume turned up.
My cell dings, and it’s a text from my father. He’s wondering where the hell I am. Cursing, I close out of the surveillance app. I have work to do, and it doesn’t involve salivating over Savina all damn day, unfortunately.
I exit the café and walk towards my bike that I left parked a few blocks away. My palm itches as I get the urge to check the camera feeds again.Fuck.Savina is like a bad habit I just can’t break, but I’m not even sure I want to. The more I’m around her, the more I like her. I know it’s dangerous, for both of us, but I can’t seem to stop myself. And maybe I don’t want to stay away from her anymore.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Savina
DARBYAND I have been settling into our new place remarkably well. I didn’t realize how much I had been craving independence until I didn’t have to ask permission to go shopping or make a coffee run. I can come and go as I please, something I never experienced before, and the feeling is incredible; better than I could have ever imagined. Even if this will all be short-lived, at least I can say I got to experience some freedom for a little while in my life. When I’m eventually locked up in a loveless marriage with Pavel, at least I’ll have these memories to look back on. Memories that might just keep me sane during trying times.
It's Friday night, and I’m walking to the ballet studio, which is only a few blocks from our apartment. I signed up for private lessons with Miss DuPont months ago. I figured it would be a way to escape. I always loved dancing and ballet when I was a child, and I thought it would be the perfect distraction from my life and Dimitri.
Dimitri Sokolov has become the bane of my existence. God, it’s like I can’t get him out of my mind. Even when he’s not around, it feels like he’s always watching me. I keep running into him in the most obscure places, and I have to wonder if his father didn’t task him with following me or something. If that’s the case, then I’m going to be upset. Pavel gave me permission to move out of my father’s place, but maybe he doesn’t trust me enough. That is a possibility that has crossed my mind.
The city is gray and washed out after a steady rain as I walk. I see the building, which houses the dance studio, in view, so I quicken my steps. It always feels like someone’s following me, and I turn around and check my surroundings quickly before darting inside the door. My heart is beating out of my chest even though I hadn’t seen anything suspicious outside. I can’t describe it. It’s just a feeling I get, and I swear I’ve been feeling like this most of my life.
Maybe I’m just paranoid.
I walk through a set of double doors, and they creak loudly on their hinges. It’s after hours, so the studio is calm, quiet. It’s perfect. Inside, the mirrors stretch on endlessly, mimicking my every move as I walk past them. I peel off my jacket, step up to the bar and stare at my reflection. My long hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, and I’m wearing a tight black shirt with black leggings under a short, ruffled skirt and ballet slippers.
I’m early, so I decide to stretch and practice before my teacher gets here. My eyes catch the glint of awards plastered to the wall. Miss DuPont has won several from the French ballet studio she used to teach at before she moved to the U.S. Once upon a time, she was the principal dancer with the Paris Opera Ballet, so she’s used to self-discipline at a level I’ll probably never experience in my lifetime. Miss DuPont is very poised, very strict, but I like it in a way. She keeps me focused.
I’m doing some normal stretches when suddenly soft classical music fills the room through the smallspeakers embedded in the ceiling.Oh, she must be earlier than usual tonight, I think to myself, as I go to the bar and get in first position, awaiting instruction.
But instead of the dainty footsteps that usually accompany the music, I hear the heavy footfalls of boots on the hardwood floor. My eyes dart up to the mirror, and I see Dimitri strolling into the room from behind me.
Irate, I turn and glare at him. “What are you doing here? How did you know I was here?” I ask angrily.
He smirks and clicks his tongue. “Hello to you too, Savina.”
I roll my eyes at him. “My teacher will be here any minute, Dimitri.”
“Then we better hurry,” he tells me cryptically.
So, I guess I wasn’t being paranoid before. Iwasbeing followed, and that angers me even further. What was the point of letting me move into my own apartment if the Sokolovs were just going to keep tabs on me all the time? Did they just want to pretend to give me some freedom to see what I would do? Is Dimitri spying on me and reporting everything back to his father?
Question after question swirls inside my head as Dimitri moves closer to me. The soft scent of tobacco wafts over me as he stands inches away. “Did your father send you?” I ask, my voice quiet and wounded.
“No,” he answers, surprising me.
“Then why are you here?” I press.
“To watch you dance,” he whispers against my ear. “Now, get up on your toes, Savina. I want to see you,” he mutters.
The sexual tension grows to immeasurable amounts in the room, and I find myself having trouble breathing. I don’t know if I fully believe him when he says his father didn’t send him here, because why else would he follow me around? Unless he’s testing me, seeing how far he can bend me before I break. Well, I’ve got news for him. The answer is never. I will never break for him.
Keeping a steady gaze on Dimitri, I step closer to the bar. With one hand lax on it, I slowly raise up. I only have my slippers on, notmy actual pointe shoes, so I can’t go completely on the tip of my toes. But I go as far as I can go without experiencing too much pain.
“Now, lean over the bar,” he tells me.
My eyes narrow on him as my fingers tighten around the bar in front of me. I want to tell him no. I want to tell him to leave me alone. But I don’t do any of those things. Instead, I lean over the bar, wanting to see just how far he’s willing to take this. Maybe a part of me wants to break him.
