Amour Amour (Aerial Ethereal #1)(16)

“Yeah, I can tell,” I whisper.

He nods a couple times. “But I wanted to give you a better shot because I felt like I put you at a disadvantage, and that wasn’t fair to you.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

His eyes rise to mine again. “Our relationship,” he says, “is unprofessional.”

I sway back a little. “I wasn’t aware we had a relationship.”

He still towers above me. “Whatever you want to call it—it’s not right. I don’t shit where I eat. I pierce and tattoo people looking to have fun in Vegas. I give them an experience. You were here for a job.” He shakes his head. “I regret what I did. More than you can possibly know.”

“Don’t,” I tell him. “It’s just a piercing. And I said it was okay.”

“We may work together,” he says. “It’s not just a piercing to me.” He gestures to my small frame. “And how old are you?” He grimaces some. “Please tell me that you’re not eighteen.” Maybe because he supplied me shots all night. Or because he fondled my boob, and that’d mean we’d have a significant age gap than the one that already exists. I’m going with the latter.

“Twenty-one.”

Relief floods his face, and he exhales deeply.

“What about you?” I ask.

“Twenty-six.” He scans my body for a second, as though he’s reading the language of my movements. “Despite the control I had at the auditions today, I have almost no weight in the final choice. They can pick any one of you, even if I say otherwise.”

The tiny hope he’d given me might have been false after all. “The choreographer dislikes me,” I recognize. He was introduced at the end of the auditions, so I’m certain he’s the man who’ll arrange the aerial silk routine.

Nikolai relaxes his shoulder on the locker again. “Ivan doesn’t dislike you.”

My chest inflates with more positivity.

“He actually hates you,” he says flatly.

It pops just like that.

“Amour won’t last the year if we don’t find a replacement,” he explains. “The Masquerade is threatening to shut down the show, and it needs the aerial silk act to complete the story. So Ivan is under a lot of pressure, as am I, and as will be my partner.”

I want to believe that I can handle the pressure. I can say it every day, all day, but actions speak louder. I haven’t ever been tested to this degree. Nothing this grand has weighed on my shoulders. I can barely even imagine what he’s going through.

“And it doesn’t help that you’re not Russian.” He checks the clock on the wall and heads to the exit.

I frown, his words ringing in my ears. “What does that mean exactly?”

He glances back. “It’s aggravating when you can’t communicate with someone. He tried to cut your audition short because of it.” With this, he curves around the corner, disappearing out of sight. I hear the heavy door open and then click closed.

I stand up, more uneasy but a little more prepared than before. I pocket the false hope like a gem, refusing to believe it’s fake for now. I need it. He gave it to me because I needed it. I won’t let it go that easily.





Act Five



I made the first cut.

I send the group text to my parents and my brother and then another text to Shay. I walk down the long carpeted corridor of the casino floor in sweat pants (over my leotard)? still in a daze about the verdict. An hour ago, Helen called my audition number along with Elena, Kaitlin, and another girl’s. I almost couldn’t believe it.

Nikolai even made a point to nod at me when she announced that I made it through to day two of auditions. Maybe it was a pity nod, but it fuels me for the final round tomorrow.

At first, I planned to decompress in Camila’s apartment, maybe finish Bite in the Dark, a vampire romance that I’m three-fourths through. But I think couch-surfer protocol forbids me from loitering. I sleep and go. And sleep again.

So I decided to take advantage of Vegas and soak up the atmosphere while I’m here. If I don’t land the role, then I may never have the opportunity to return to this city again.

The slot machines ping and glow—a group of thirty-somethings clustered at a roulette table. They simultaneously cheer, raising their beers and cocktails. Everyone here seems to be on a high, skiing up it or sliding down.

The energy is new, and I feel a smile pull at my cheeks. Life is slow in Ohio. Not a bad slow. Just different. Vegas begins to take hold of my senses, drawing me deeper into the casino’s sins.

Evening hasn’t set in yet, so the crowds aren’t as thick as they could be. I mosey around the tables and slots, watching people gamble from afar. I understand the enticement of throwing dice, playing cards, and pressing a button.

It’s the dream, right?

To be granted money without any real work or effort. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you look like, where you come from—we all have the same odds.

Vegas may be a genie, willing to grant wishes, but it’s also a devil in disguise, here to slay our dreams just as quickly.

While I observe a really confusing game—craps, I think—my cell pings.

Duh, you made the first cut. Booking my plane ticket already. – Tanner.