Beneath the Parisian Skies Page 13

  Even though she’d spent more time than usual warming up, Viktoriya’s muscles felt like she’d already had a hard day at the barre. Nerves were not foreign to her, so why did she feel like her body was so stiff?

  Alexei took his position in the centre of the room. Rimsky-Korsakov’s composition floated through the air, serenading her, willing her to give in to the music, for every muscle and sinew to respond to the love and care Michel Fokine had taken in choreographing this majestic ballet. She closed her eyes, imagining herself in the harem, that she was in love with the devastatingly charming and handsome Golden Slave. Desire cascaded through her as Alexei’s hand slowly ran up her arm, their eyes locked on one another. Stepping en pointe, Viktoriya lifted her arms above her head, allowing Alexei to hold her in an embrace. Each note guided her, filled her heart with love, and as her lungs expanded with oxygen, her pulse raced with adrenaline.

  Ballet, above all else, fulfilled her.

  This was her life.

  Nothing would ever get in the way.

  Ever.

  Alexei took her hand as she pirouetted, delighted in the freedom of movement. When the time came for the lift, she used the muscles in her legs to give her height, making Alexei’s work easier. Her body tensed, and a moment later she was high above, Alexei slowly turning. Her eyes connected with the baron’s and for a moment, she lost concentration. Alexei faltered under her softened pose and she quickly tensed her body again. Alexei brought her to the ground, and he bowed while she curtseyed to the enraptured applause of their hopefully soon-to-be financial backer.

  ‘Incredible!’ The baron hurried towards them, his eyes wide with admiration. Turning to Diaghilev, he said, ‘If this is up-and-coming talent then I can’t wait until they reach their full potential. Marvellous!’

  Although the baron’s delight buoyed her, she took in Alexei’s scowl, knowing he blamed her for his stumble. He was right, of course, and she shouldn’t have let herself get distracted but the baron was like a magnet—a cloud of charm that drew her towards him.

  Diaghilev strode over, hands behind his back. He drew his brows together and glared at Viktoriya briefly before he turned to the baron and slapped him on the back, his demeanour friendly once more. ‘I told you I have some wonderful dancers in my stable.’

  Baron Cheverin’s happy eyes met Viktoriya’s. ‘You didn’t tell me how beautiful, though.’

  Heat raced across her skin. She focussed on her feet, embarrassed by the compliment but also loving the attention from this striking Bulgarian.

  Alexei placed his hand under her elbow, his fingers digging into her. She subtly moved her arm away as Alexei cleared his throat and said in a measured tone, ‘Thank you, Baron Cheverin, for the opportunity to perform for you. Mademoiselle Budian and I are a very strong partnership, as I am sure you have noticed.’

  What on earth was Alexei doing?

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said the baron. ‘It must take many hours of practice to achieve the quality of dance you have together, but life is not all about ballet, is it? There must be time to eat, sleep, love.’ As he said the word love, Baron Cheverin glanced at Viktoriya.

  Viktoriya wished the ground would swallow her. She hated this whole macho possessive dance between Alexei and the baron and all she wanted was to get as far away from them as possible. She wasn’t some toy in the playground the boys could fight over. Viktoriya was a grown woman with her own heart and mind and could do whatever she pleased. Well, she still couldn’t vote but that would hopefully change one day soon. Maybe then men would realise women were their own people and could make up their own minds.

  ‘Please excuse me.’ She turned and dashed away before anyone could stop her. When she got to the door, she hesitated, wishing she hadn’t left Alexei and the baron to face-off with each other. If Alexei switched to full macho mode, then he could jeopardise Diaghilev getting the funds. Viktoriya turned to find Alexei striding over to her while Diaghilev and the baron watched on.

  Opening the door quickly, she stepped out and Alexei followed. Closing it as quietly as she could, she whispered harshly, ‘What was that all about?’

  ‘He was trying to romance you,’ grumbled Alexei.

  ‘So what? Do you think I care?’

  ‘You didn’t seem to mind.’ His eyes didn’t meet hers.

  ‘Oh for goodness’ sake! I was playing the game.’ She refrained from throwing her arms up in disgust. He shifted from foot to foot as he stared down the deserted hallway. Fighting to remain calm, she said, ‘This is all for the benefit of the ballet—and us. If Diaghilev doesn’t get the baron on board we’re as good as on the street. Your paranoia about him is ridiculous.’

  She marched towards the changing room and closed the door, locking it behind her for good measure. What was with Alexei? This insecurity didn’t match the strength he’d exhibited in Russia. He’d been the first person she’d known who’d found the courage to leave Russia behind and forge a new existence in a land he didn’t know, with a ballet company he’d never seen. Not only had Alexei succeeded, his fearlessness had inspired her to leave behind the only world she knew. So what had made Alexei lose his confidence and fear that she didn’t love him with all her heart? Surely a flirtatious Bulgarian baron wasn’t enough to cause Alexei’s angst. What had happened between him leaving Russia and her arriving in France? If their relationship had any chance of surviving, she needed to get to the bottom of it—now.

  CHAPTER

  13

  Lily sat on the steps of Yves’s apartment, turning her sister’s diary over and over. It had been hard finding the courage to go back to his place as memories of his warm skin against hers, his soft, sensuous lips, and his slow, experienced hands sent her into a tailspin and left her feeling confused, fearful and craving more of the man she couldn’t get off her mind.

  Gazing up at the window of his apartment, it felt like she was returning to the scene of the crime. Although one night of hot, passionate sex did not a crime make. She could have texted Yves but seeing him in person was the right thing to do, even if it scared her witless. He deserved an explanation. She dreaded bringing up the subject but it had to be done. Learning to go en pointe was way easier.

  ‘Do you always make a habit of lurking in doorways?’

  She looked up and was met with Yves’s bright blue eyes and contagious smile. Her heart skipped a beat and she berated herself for letting his attractiveness mess with her mind. Oh, but his body, those lips, those hands…

  She cleared her throat. ‘I only lurk in doorways if I’m in need of fresh veggie soup.’ Lily went to get up and Yves extended his hand. She clasped her fingers around his and it felt way more sensual than it should have. Be normal, Johansson. Be normal! ‘So any chance I could scrounge a meal?’

  ‘I do not make the habit of taking in starving foreigners but today is your lucky day. In fact,’ he pulled a bunch of celery from the hessian shopping bag, ‘I am about to prepare a feast.’

  ‘Were you expecting company?’

  ‘No, no. I have done my shopping for the week so we have much to choose from.’

  ‘Well, I just happen to have brought some wine.’ She grabbed the bottle of French syrah out of her bag.

  He tilted his head back and laughed. ‘What? No Australian shiraz?’

  Lily screwed up her nose. ‘Oh no! I wouldn’t drink that dreck! I prefer the silky smoothness of a syrah grown in the magnificent French soil.’

  ‘It is good to see you have come to your senses.’

  Yves winked and any fear she’d clung to dissipated into the ether. Perhaps she had read him wrong. Maybe he hadn’t cared that she’d dashed away. Then she remembered the confusion and concern on his face as he’d leaned over the banister.

  She followed Yves up the stairs and he said over his shoulder, ‘I figure you must be up to something if you are bribing me with the best wine in the world.’

  She drew her lips in a tight line as he paused to unlock the door to the apartment.


  Holding it open, he asked, ‘It is a bribe, oui?’

  ‘Not at all. It’s an apology gift.’

  ‘For?’

  Did he have short-term memory loss? ‘For leaving so abruptly last time.’

  ‘You did what you had to do. It is done, now we will not worry about it.’

  His matter-of-fact tone sounded like he was looking at this from a non-emotional point of view but she’d taken on the same tone in the past while her emotions were in turmoil. She wished she knew him well enough to know which side of the fence he stood on.

  Yves made his way to the kitchen and put the bags on the bench-top, then he opened up the cupboard and placed a couple of glasses in front of her. ‘Wine?’

  ‘Here, I’ll do it.’ Lily opened the bottle and filled the glasses to the brim. She passed one over to Yves, who had already unpacked the vegetables and placed them next to the chopping board. When he drank from the full wine glass and put it on the bench he didn’t spill a drop. How did he do that? Lily bent her head and sipped in a very unladylike manner and wondered why she was so heavy-handed with the portions. Yves started chop, chop, chopping while she snuck a glance at this tall, lean man with just enough muscle to make a girl’s mind think very-naughty-but-nice thoughts.

  Stop it!

  Lily took a deep breath and told him about the afternoon in Natalie’s apartment. She left out the reference to her great-grandmother for now, especially as he put the knife down the second she mentioned Viktoriya Budian’s diaries.

  ‘Her diaries?’ He leaned so far forward he looked like he would topple over.

  ‘It’s a long story, and one I promise to tell in full soon, but the short version is Natalie got her hands on Viktoriya’s diaries and had them translated.’

  He shook his head slowly. ‘I had heard a rumour about these diaries but was never sure if they really existed. And your sister had them?’

  ‘Yep. I think she’s found something and that’s why she’s taken off.’

  Yves tilted his head. ‘There is a lot of thinking but no evidence.’

  ‘You’re right.’ She looked at the diary in her hand. ‘I’ve called her a billion times, left messages, texted, emailed…Her roommate Penny has done the same.’

  Yves’s eyes didn’t meet hers.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘She didn’t answer my calls or texts, either.’ It shouldn’t have surprised her—after all, Natalie and Yves had a friendship of sorts. ‘Much like you.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You did not answer your telephone and I was worried.’

  ‘Huh?’ she said again, wishing her vocabulary would expand. Lily reached for her phone and was met with a dark screen. Shit. When did that happen? She grabbed her charger from her handbag and waved it near the power point. ‘May I?’

  ‘Of course.’ He returned to chopping vegetables. ‘I thought I would give you some time after your hasty exit but my patience did not want to cooperate. So I called then I sent a text. Well, maybe six. When I did not get an answer I called your sister.’ Looking into her eyes, he said, ‘I care about you, Lily Johansson.’

  Wow. His admission flattered her but it also created havoc within. She’d been stupid to think this was just a physical relationship or, at best, a brief flirtation. Realising that Yves cared enough to try to contact her after she’d fled tugged at her heartstrings. Her head screamed for her to back away but her heart pulled her towards him.

  She sighed inwardly. The conversation she’d planned to have would be way more difficult than she’d anticipated.

  ‘Thank you for looking out for me. I’m fine, I promise,’ she said. Yves looked like he was about to say something so before he could, she blurted out, ‘I’m going to read Natalie’s diary. Maybe we can figure out why she’s disappeared without explanation.’

  Lily mentally slapped her forehead. Looks like she had a lot more in common with Natalie than she’d thought.

  ‘You are feeling guilty about reading your sister’s thoughts, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’ She eyed off the book sitting next to her handbag.

  ‘You need some company to do this?’

  ‘Maybe I just need you to tell me I’m doing the right thing.’ She gave a hopeful smile.

  ‘You are not doing this out of spite or any other negative emotion. You are doing this out of love and caring for your sister, oui?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So if she finds out you have read her diary then she should not be angry. If she is, though, you will have my support. This is the right thing you are doing given the circumstances.’

  ‘Thank you. I needed to hear that.’

  Taking a deep breath, she opened the cover and the spine cracked as she did so. The first page was dated a few months ago. She scanned the diary, reading her sister’s words and noticing the building angst.

  No one seems to care about anything around here, not even the artistic director. Or the choreographer. They don’t listen to my ideas, even when I KNOW they’ll make the production better. And then there’s that wretched Audrey in costumes. No matter how many times I tell her the seam is digging into my left butt cheek, she doesn’t loosen it enough. I swear she’s got it in for me. Don’t even get me started on Penny. Seriously, how long does someone need in a bathroom? She should spend that time doing the dishes that she leaves lying around the house. I found a coffee cup in the hallway yesterday. Who brought her up? Cavemen?

  For God’s sake, I’m not some freaking diva, I just want people to do their job and behave properly.

  Sure, her sister had a penchant for dramatics, which served her well on stage, but picking holes in everything seemed a little over the top, even for Natalie. Turning to another random page, Lily read:

  Once again that imbecile Louis dropped me in rehearsal. What the hell did he have for breakfast? Air? He needs to lift his game and lift me at the same time. Ha ha! Seriously, though, relying on others always ends in disaster. The only person I can count on is me. At least then things will turn out the way they should.

  Lily breathed in sharply.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Yves looked on, concern in his eyes.

  She went to say she was fine, then changed her mind. ‘She’s not herself in here.’

  ‘It is a diary, no? Normally they are not for other people to read. Perhaps this is Natalie being her true self.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She drew the words out. ‘There’s something…off about this.’

  ‘Maybe you are discovering your sister for the first time.’

  Lily bit her lip. Oh God. What if Yves was right? What if she’d spent her entire life thinking Natalie was a certain type of person but she wasn’t?

  Nope. You can’t know someone for that long and not see who they really are. Something was wrong.

  Trying not to dwell on questions she couldn’t answer in this moment, Lily concentrated on Yves as he deftly chopped the food like a professional chef. She admired his skill and the way his hands knew where to go, much like the way he’d touched her the night before. She closed her eyes, allowing visions of Yves directly above her as she lay on the bed, his arms either side of her, his breath warm, his eyes holding an intensity as her body shuddered and she arched her back as waves of ecstasy crashed over her…

  Lily sucked in her breath.

  ‘What is wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she croaked and resisted the urge to fan herself.

  ‘Did you find something?’ he asked and she felt ridiculous for having a fantasy about Yves right in front of him.

  Trying to regain composure, she said, ‘Let’s just say that I’m glad her roommate didn’t read it.’

  ‘She has mean words to say about her?’

  ‘They’re not mean, just picky. Natalie’s always been a perfectionist and if people don’t live up to her expectations then she can be quite harsh.’

  Yves slowly nodded. ‘Yes, I have seen this in her.’

  ‘Which is great for dancing ba
llet because it makes her strive to be the best but it translates badly to real life.’

  Yves pulled a loaf of bread, cheese and a jar of olives out of the shopping bag. He sliced the bread, cubed the cheese and drained the olives, placing them on a small plate then motioned for her to eat. She didn’t hesitate. She’d been so stressed about Natalie that the thought of eating had made her want to vomit. Yet somehow, Yves’s company helped her appetite return.

  Concentrating on the diary once more, she scanned the pages, carefully turning them so they didn’t bend or mark. It was bad enough she was reading her sister’s thoughts—the last thing she wanted was for Natalie to be given evidence of Lily’s snooping. She popped a chunk of cheese in her mouth as her eyes travelled the pages, looking for key words:

  Urgh. I need sleep. I know it’s not helping with my concentration but what am I supposed to do? Viktoriya’s diaries have helped me prepare to audition and it’s given me a far greater edge than anyone else. I will do anything to get this role—there is no one else on this earth who was made to dance as Viktoriya.

  The more she read Natalie’s words, the more angst grew within Lily. Something really was not right here, she just wished she could put her finger on it. She read the next page then looked up and said, ‘I think you need to hear this. I need your opinion.’

  Yves nodded for her to continue.

  Out loud, she read:

  The morons at Bohème have no concept about the importance of Viktoriya’s story. I know it’s impossible for anyone to fully understand exactly what goes through someone’s head, even if they’ve written their thoughts down, because pen and paper can lie. Just like failing memories. Just like lies that have been told over the years that are now viewed as the truth.

  The more I read Viktoriya’s words, the more it becomes obvious there is a whole different story between those lines of ink. I don’t know what it is yet but something tells me her real story is very different to what we know. A century has passed but perhaps the vestiges of time haven’t been so unkind as to erase the full story of Viktoriya Budian. I want to discover the truth. So much blame has been lumped on her and it has tarnished people’s memory of her. I want to change the way she is viewed. I want to find out why her life turned out the way it did and if she had any hand in her fate or if control was ripped from her. I am sure the Cheverins were involved but I’m not sure how. Whatever the reason, I owe it to Viktoriya, and if there has been injustice, I will ensure there are consequences, even if it’s one hundred years later.