Brutal Obsession (122)

“I wanted you to dance for the American Ballet Theatre,” he says carefully. “And that might sound crazy, but I was given the chance to handpick some dancers for their upcoming touring season. I chose—”

“Giselle.” I cover my mouth. My mind is going a hundred miles a minute. “So I met with you that day?”

He nods. “We went over choreography. You were going to be in touch later in the week to come and dance for the board of directors.”

This doesn’t make any fucking sense.

“I was Odette.” My brow furrows. “I was the principal dancer for Swan Lake.”

He scoffs. “You think Crown Point Ballet can stand up to what ABT can offer you? You and I both know that they’re leagues apart. I was giving you a chance.”

“But then I broke my leg. My memory of that day was just…” I snap my fingers. “It was gone. How can I believe you?” I squint at him. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“What about your phone? We had conversations. I left you a voicemail, you called me back.”

I’m already shaking my head. “Smashed in the accident. I lost data from a week prior, since my last cloud backup.”

He sighs. He’s right to sigh—the signs of the truth are there. In the dance I somehow knew, in the spaces of my memory. But it doesn’t stop him from opening his phone and setting it on the desk.

A video plays. He stands in a studio that looks awfully familiar, and I face the mirror. Someone else holds the phone for him, filming me dance. Poor Violet back then, she had no idea what was about to happen. When I finish, I turn and beam at Shawn.

It goes black, and I step back. I let out a shaky breath.

“What time was that?”

He looks at the time stamp on the video and wordlessly points. Seven-zero-five p.m. Greyson hit my car closer to eleven.

“Did I leave after that?”

Shawn narrows his eyes. “Yeah, Violet. You got a call and left.”

I swing my bag back over my shoulder. “It’s been two minutes,” I say stiffly. “And it doesn’t really seem to matter much, since you’ve probably chosen for ABT. That was months ago. Besides, we’re both here.”

Shawn reads my stiffening posture, and he immediately raises his hands again. Like he’s not a threat to me. “I’m sorry. I was just surprised, is all. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I thought you knew me.”

He steps aside, and I rush out the door.

My mind is a mess. He wanted me to dance for him at the American Ballet Theatre? One of the best ballet companies in the US? I’d only just debuted as a principal. Hadn’t had a chance to dance a lead in front of an audience before it was ripped away from me.

I wipe at a tear that rolls down my cheek. Then another.

“Fuck,” I mutter, turning the corner.

I almost crash into Mia.

She grabs my shoulders and lets out a laugh. “Violet! I thought you had left already. Oh—what happened? Are you okay?”

I sniffle and step back. Her hands fall back to her sides.

“I’m okay, thanks. And thank you again for the opportunity. It was nice dancing in a company again—even if it was just for today.”

Mia rolls her eyes. “None of that pessimistic bullshit. You were excellent.” She hooks her arm through mine and continues with me toward the door. “Between you and me, I think you have an outstanding chance of being cast as Aurora.”

“Thank you.” I turn toward her. “And thank you for… all of it, I guess. Helping me get back into it, setting up the initial appointment with Dr. Michaels. You’ve done a lot for me.”

She pats my hand. “You know what? I think I need to buy you a drink.”

It’s only two o’clock. Willow will expect a phone call by three, which gives us plenty of time. I nod and let her lead me to her car. This part is familiar. I can’t begin to count how many times she’s given me a ride home or spent extra time with me in and out of the studio.

She stepped in to be a mother figure when mine was being chaotic.

I toss my bag in the trunk and climb in the passenger seat. She joins me, pulling out onto the road moments later. We head away from downtown Crown Point.

“Where did you have in mind?” I ask.

Mia glances at me, then back to the road. She doesn’t answer.

“Mia?”

Her lips press together.

“Where are we going?” My voice is as level as can be expected, I think. There’s not a trace of panic in it—although that panic is wrapping itself around my throat. Maybe I’m just working myself up over nothing. I’ve known Mia for years and years—she’s never had anything but good intentions.

“Hush,” she finally says. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“I just need to swing by my house. I forgot my credit card at home this morning.”

I nod along with her words. With her story.

Watch. In ten minutes, we’ll have grabbed her credit card then moved on to a local bar. She’ll buy me a drink, we’ll celebrate a successful audition, and I’ll meet Willow and Amanda. I’m overreacting.

Except… I’m not.

Because we get to a road that goes from pavement to gravel, and the driveways get farther apart. And then we’re just on a little one-lane dirt road. Minutes later, we arrive at a log cabin. There’s a dog on a chain out front, and the porch light glows dimly.