Page 20 of Lovely Venom

“Nella?” Her eyes widen in delight.

“That’s exactly right.” I tap her nose.

I continue the story, explaining how all the stars in the sky shone for her, and every animal in the land loved her so dearly, they would never leave her kingdom. When I get to the part about her army—a strapping stock of the finest soldiers named Angelo, Romeo, Cristian, Rafe, and Michele—Nella giggles and looks at her uncle.

“You pwotect me?” she asks Cristian.

“On my life, Cucciola.”

His voice is deadly serious, and when I glance up, I find him watching me, something unreadable flickering in the depths of his eyes. That moment suspends itself before Nella prompts me to continue, snapping me out of whatever that was.

I resume the story, sending princess Nella on magical adventures until the little girl in my arms inevitably falls asleep. As I peer down at her angelic face, warmth floods my chest, opening the floodgates of a familiar ache. I don’t even realize how long I’m staring at her until Mariella clears her throat, dragging me from my thoughts.

I blink up to find both her and Cristian studying me, and I feel entirely too exposed.

“You should probably get Nella to bed,” I tell him. “It’s late.”

He ignores my suggestion as his attention shifts to Mariella. “What’s the verdict on her ankle?”

“Yes, Doctor.” I roll my eyes. “Am I going to live?”

She doesn’t share my amusement.

“Real talk, this isn’t something you can keep putting a Band-Aid on,” she says. “You had a bad sprain that wasn’t properly rehabbed, and every time you re-injure it, you’re risking permanent damage. I know you love your job, but at some point, you need to ask yourself what’s more important. Another year on stage, or living with chronic pain ten years from now.”

I swallow as the reality of my situation hits me. I do love my job, and it’s not because I need the money. As a child, dancing was one of the few approved activities I was allowed, and it became my escape. I trained in tap, ballet, and competitive jazz, and when I was old enough, I attended summer intensives in pursuit of my ultimate goal. I wanted to be a Rockette so badly, it was all I thought about for years. With an insane amount of practice and precision, I achieved that ambition at eighteen.

Back then, my life felt like it was finally coming together. I had everything a woman in my position could hope for—a fiancé I didn’t hate, a dream come to fruition, and a life that looked brighter than it ever had. But when my illusions shattered and it all went up in smoke, all that remained was the one thing nobody could ever take from me.

When I came to Seattle, I had to start fresh without referencing most of my dance background. It was too risky to get into anything with publicity, so when I found Burlesque at a private club for members only, I knew it was my path forward.

It gave me back my confidence and the opportunity to build a new life. And while some people like to discount what I do, they don’t understand the amount of hard work and dedication it took to get where I am.

Nobody handed me anything. I started out dancing in the chorus, and I dedicated three years perfecting my craft before I was ever given the chance to showcase my skills as a feature act. But the work doesn’t stop when I step off the stage. I have group and solo rehearsals, physical therapy, strength training, barre, yoga, and Pilates. Then there are the fittings and costume prep, hair and makeup tests, prop work, music, choreography, lighting, and persona development.

For the last six years, it’s been my life. I’ve earned a prime time slot and a steady income that’s provided what I need. But every dancer has a shelf life, and deep down, I knew pushing my body would catch up with me.

Still, leaving it all behind now feels like a loss I’m not ready to face.

“How long do you think I have realistically?” I ask Mariella.

“I can’t give you a timeline. But if you don’t make the choice yourself, your body will eventually make it for you.”

I nod, accepting it for what it is. It might not be what I wanted to hear, but it’s reality.

“I’ll start thinking about my options,” I tell her. “How long do you think I need off for right now?”

“At least a few days. In the meantime, keep it iced and elevated. You can bear weight as tolerated. Just try not to overdo it.”

“Okay.” I blow out a breath, already knowing Victor won’t be happy with me taking anything more than that.

Until I have something else lined up, I’m not willing to risk my income. I have money saved, but I don’t want to dip into that. That’s my emergency fund, and there may come a day when I’ll need every penny of it to escape.

“Looks like you’re off the hook.” I glance up at Cristian. “Doctor’s orders, I can walk on my own.”

He gives me a dry look, and I rush to say something else before we have another staring contest. “I’ll take your jacket off too, once you take Antonella.”

“You can give it to me later.”